“Yes, love. I found him. I’m afraid we’ve had some bad news.” He looked back at Atre as he reached for the door handle. “At least put something on your face!”

Atre lounged against the wall and pouted at him. “Oh, look, you’ve torn my favorite shirt.”

Leaving Atre to make himself presentable, Brader went to head off Merina. He thought he’d schooled his expression, but Merina took one look at him and her eyes widened with dismay.

“You two are fighting again?” She caught up with him and clasped him by the arm. “And don’t tell me it’s nothing, Brader! Things have been going so well. He’s happy. I thought you were happy, too.”

“It’s not that, love.” How he hated lying to her! “We’ve just had word that Lady Kylith died.”

“Oh, no!” Merina came into his arms and rested her head on his shoulder. “The poor dear! She was so good to the children, and so generous.”

“Yes.” Brader held her close and kissed her hair. With her warm tears dampening his shirt, he couldn’t say any more than that. Building on the lie caught in his throat.

“Another dead patron,” she whispered against his chest.

“She was old, Merina, and she’d withdrawn her patronage.”

“She did? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

Merina sighed. “She wasn’t that old, Brader, and not the first. Sometimes I wonder if we bring bad luck with us.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. People die.”

She gave him a worried look. “It’s more than just today. I’ve been concerned for a while now, though I haven’t wanted to say anything. Atre gets this gleam in his eye sometimes, something wild, and so often it means we’re moving on again. This is the best place we’ve ever been!”

“Not to worry, my dear!” Atre exclaimed as he came out of his room, dressed in his best black coat. “I’m off to pay the company’s respects at poor Lady Kylith’s wake. Such a loss!” He kissed her cheek, then pulled on a fine pair of black kid gloves. “Nothing to fret your pretty head about, though. There are plenty more rich fish in this lovely, fertile Rhíminee sea, and I plan to stay here for a very long time.”

Seregil, Alec, and Thero arrived at Kylith’s villa to find it already full of mourners and a cold feast laid out in the reception hall. Dead she might be, but Kylith’s hospitality lived on. Looking around, Seregil saw Eirual and a number of her courtesans, as well as Count Selin and Malthus. A very somber Ysmay was attending to the guests, dressed in black and jet.

Seregil went to her and kissed her on both cheeks. “Ysmay, I’m sorry for your loss. Thank you for sending word.”