“It is always hard to see victory if one does not have vision.” His nod made me think he spoke in code, warning me, but he smiled impartially around the table. “My thanks, Cat. Your timely arrival and this intelligence gives us just the advantage we need at this juncture. Let us consider what this means. This army has the discipline and speed to reach Lutetia in two days’ march. Our army is smaller than the combined alliance of Coalition and Romans. But if we reach Lutetia before the Romans do—something they won’t expect we can manage—we can defeat the Coalition and immediately turn to face the Romans as they come up from the south. That gives us the advantage in both battles. Once we win Lutetia, I will proclaim the Declaration of Rights on the very steps of the prince’s palace, where it was first proclaimed twenty-two years ago. My proclamation of a new and more expansive legal code will embolden many a prudent Gallic lord to abandon the Coalition and join our cause, just as it will rally the guilds and laborers and all those trapped by clientage to our side. Justice will be the reward gained by all.”

“Now that I think of it,” Drake said, “I haven’t asked for any prize of war to this date, have I? All I want is the cold mage. I need him alive so he can acknowledge my long-awaited victory.” He sipped at his wine with a musing smile. “People do feel envy when they must admit that another is better than they are. As your husband will soon discover.”

Sadly, I laughed. I shouldn’t have, but I did, nor did I trouble to hide my scorn. “Oh, he already knows he’s better than you.”

A thread of fire spun out of Drake and into me. Its heated touch made me gasp, half in fear and half with the cruel grasp of magic-borne lust. My fingers lost the strength to hold the utensils, which clattered onto the plate.

“Cat?” Rory pushed back his chair.

A second catch-fire shimmered, catching the backlash as one of the girls spun a candle flame above her cupped hand and took a threatening step toward Rory. He drew up short, to the girl’s sarcastic laughter.

The girl hadn’t Drake’s finely honed control. Her catch-fire moaned, “It hurts.”

“Stop it!” I shouted, leaping to my feet. My chair crashed to the floor behind me.

The sliced folds of roasted beef caught fire on my plate as heat scalded through me. I coughed, fumbling at my cane, for by the gods I would crack his head open before he killed me.