“Not so drunk you couldn’t fumble your way to betraying me.”

The old mercenary shrugged. “It’s always a crying shame when honest people are betrayed. When it happens to the treacherous, though, one cannot avoid a certain sense of… cosmic justice.” Cosca grinned from Eider, to Monza, and back. “Three people as loyal as us all on one side? I can hardly wait to see how this turns out.”

Monza’s guess was that it would turn out bloody. “When will Ario and Foscar get here?”

“When Sotorius’ grand ball begins to break up. Midnight, or just before.”

“We’ll be waiting.”

“The antidote,” snapped Eider. “I’ve done my part.”

“You’ll get it when I get Ario’s head on a plate. Not before.”

“What if something goes wrong?”

“You’ll die along with the rest of us. Better hope things run smoothly.”

“What’s to stop you from letting me die anyway?”

“My dazzling reputation for fair play and good behaviour.”

Unsurprisingly, Eider didn’t laugh. “I tried to do the right thing in Dagoska.” She jabbed at her chest with a finger. “I tried to do the right thing! I tried to save people! Look what it’s cost me!”

“There might be a lesson in there about doing the right thing.” Monza shrugged. “I’ve never had that problem.”

“You can joke! Do you know what it’s like, to live in fear every moment?”

Monza took a quick step towards her and she shrank back against the wall. “Living in fear?” she snarled, their masks almost scraping together. “Welcome to my fucking life! Now quit whining and smile for Ario and the other bastards at the ball tonight!” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Then bring him to us. Him and his brother. Do as I tell you, and you might still get a happy ending.”

She knew that neither one of them thought that very likely. There’d be precious few happy endings to tonight’s festivities.

Day turned the drill one last time, bit squealing through wood, then eased it gently free. A chink of light peeped up into the darkness of the attic and brightly illuminated a circular patch of her cheek. She grinned across at Morveer, and he was touched by a sudden bitter-sweet memory of his mother’s smiling face by candlelight. “We’re through.”

Now was hardly the time for nostalgia. He swallowed the upwelling of emotion and crept over, taking the greatest care to set his feet only upon the rafters. A black-clad leg bursting through the ceiling and kicking wildly would no doubt give Orso’s sons and their guards some cause for concern. Peering down through the hole, doubtless invisible among the thick mouldings, Morveer could see an opulent stretch of panelled corridor with a rich Gurkish carpet and two high doorways. A crown was carved into the wood above the nearer one.

“Perfect positioning, my dear. The Royal Suite.” From here they had an unobstructed view of guards stationed by either door. He reached into his jacket, and frowned. He patted at his other pockets, panic stabbing at him.