“Oh, I have,” Invidia said lightly. “They’d begun to peck at my eyes and lips when the vord found me. I am disinclined to repeat the experience.”

Amara felt a chill smile stretch her lips. “Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?”

“Come, Countess,” Invidia replied. “It is far too late for any of us to seek redemption for our sins now.”

“Then why haven’t you killed me and had done?” Amara replied, lifting her chin to bare more of her throat to Invidia’s blade. “Lonely, are we? Missing the company of our fellow human beings? Needing some scrap of respect? Forgiveness? Approval?”

Invidia stared at her for a moment though her eyes looked through Amara as though she weren’t there. A frown creased her brow. “Perhaps,” she said.

“Perhaps you should have thought of that before you began murdering us all,” Amara spat. “You aren’t wearing a collar, like the others. They’re slaves. You’re free. You’re here by choice.”

Invidia let out a harsh laugh. “Is that what you think? That I have a choice?” Amara arched an eyebrow. “Yes. Between death and destroying your own kind. You could defy the vord and die of the poison still in you—die horribly. But instead you’ve chosen to let everyone else die in your place.”

Invidia’s eyes widened, and her lips peeled back from her teeth in an unnatural grimace.

“The truly sad part,” Amara said, naked contempt ringing in her voice, “is that in the end, it will make no difference. The moment you are more of a threat than an asset to them, the vord will kill you. You selfish, petulant child. All the blood on your hands has been for nothing.”

Invidia’s jaws clenched, and spots of color appeared high on her cheeks. Her whole body began shaking. “Who,” she whispered. “Who do you think you are?”

Amara learned into the blade and met Invidia’s eyes with her own. “I know who I am. I am the Countess Calderonus Amara, Cursor of the Crown, loyal servant of Alera and the House of Gaius. Though it cost me my life, I know who I am.” She bared her own teeth in a wolfish smile. “And we both know who you are. You’ve chosen your side, traitor. Get on with it.”

Invidia stood motionless. The many fires blew a hot wind over the rooftop. Somewhere, there was a roar of collapsing masonry as a building succumbed. Distant thumps of firecrafting pulsed irregularly through the night. The distant desperation of the trumpets and drums of the embattled Legions remained a constant, hardly noticed music.

“So be it,” Invidia hissed.

And then the rooftop exploded into motion.