She smiled, tired. “You think I am a mad old woman.”

“I understand nothing of what I have seen here,” he said honestly. “Would you really turn her out if she got pregnant?”

“Agrippina has spent almost all her life in the Crypt. What lies outside, the disorder, the chaos—even the weather—rightly terrifies her. But it would be for the best.”

“She is your granddaughter,” he said hotly. “How can you say such an exile would be the best for her?”

“Not for her,” Regina said. “The best for those who follow. The best for the Order . . . It is hard for me to understand, too,” she said bluntly. “I follow my instincts—make my decisions—and then try to understand why I do what I do, where is the rightness.

“But consider this.” She poured a glass of wine. “We are safe in here, and we are bound by family ties. In fact we are so crammed in that it is only family ties that keep us from murdering each other. But with time family ties weaken. How can I keep that from happening?

“Imagine this wine is the blood of my daughter—blood that is mine, mixed with that of a buffoon called Amator—he does not matter. Brica gives birth.” She poured some of the wine into a second glass, and mixed it with water. “Here is Agrippina—half the blood of Brica, half of her father—and so only a quarter mine. But if Agrippina were to have a child—” She poured the mixture into another glass, diluting it further. “Agrippina’s blood is mixed with the father’s, and so is only an eighth mine.” She sat back and sighed. “My granddaughter’s blood is closer to mine than is my great-granddaughter’s. And so I want more granddaughters. Do you see?”

“Yes, but I don’t—”

“We can’t leave this Crypt,” she snapped. “We have no arms, no warriors to protect us. And though we are expanding our space, our numbers expand faster. We can’t support too many babies at once—we don’t have the room. Now—” She pushed forward the glasses. “Suppose I have to choose between a baby of Agrippina’s, or another baby of Brica’s. Brica’s baby would be closer to my blood, which would bind us more tightly together—and, if Agrippina were to support her mother, might actually have a better chance of living to adulthood. Which should I choose?”

He nodded slowly. “Yes, I see your logic—sisters matter more than daughters—it is better for Agrippina to support more sisters than to have her own children. But it is an insane logic, Regina.”

“Insane?”

“It is better for you, perhaps, if you accept this hot logic of the blood, even better for your Order—but not for Agrippina.”

She shrugged. “If Agrippina doesn’t accept it, she can leave.”