“Benzel Travestine. He was at Mevolent’s side when they destroyed the Sanctuary in Marseilles.”

“I doubt it. I’ve never heard of your father, and I was in Marseilles when the Sanctuary fell. It was my Diablerie that opened the doors to allow Mevolent entry. Your father wasn’t there, I’m afraid.”

Prave stared at her. “You’re lying.”

“I could name each and every sorcerer who toppled that Sanctuary. I won’t, because you’re truly not worth the effort, but I could. It seems your father was exaggerating his importance, Mr Prave.”

“My father was a hero!”

“To his weak-minded son, I’m sure he was.”

Prave hurled the sweeping brush away and stormed over, fists clenched. China turned her head to him and sighed. He stopped a hand’s breadth away, face red and snarling, like he was forcing himself not to commit incredible acts of violence.

“You,” China said, “are a very impressive man.”

“Do not mock me!” he screeched.

China smiled. “Walk back over there, pick up the sweeping brush and continue cleaning. Or go for a nice walk and think about all the lies your father told you. I really don’t care what you do, so long as you stop breathing on me. It’s really not as soothing as you might think.”

Prave’s bulging eyes bulged even further, which was a feat in itself. “I should kill you right here.”

“You know,” China said, “there was a time when nobody dared threaten me. I just wouldn’t stand for it. The amount of people I killed, of bodies I twisted and bones I snapped, all because they had allowed their anger to momentarily overwhelm their good sense. I regret it all now, of course. I was out of control. I was indulging the darkness inside me far too often. I was not, Mr Prave, a very nice person. But I have changed. I have allowed the years to mellow me. Now I find joy in simple pleasures. A good book. A fine wine. Good company. All of these things make me smile. They make me happy.