Isana felt a sudden stirring of emotion from the Queen as she spoke—a brief spike of sadness and remorse, as slender and cold as a frost-covered needle. Isana did not look up at Invidia, but in her watercrafting senses, the simmering cauldron of pain, fear, and hate that comprised Invidia’s presence did not change.

The former High Lady had not sensed the instant of vulnerability in the vord Queen.

The burns, the injuries, the trauma of suffering so much pain, had doubtless left her weakened, of furycraft, of body, and, most importantly, of mind. Now was the time to pressure her, to see what information she might give away, what weaknesses she might reveal.

From somewhere outside the hive, there was a high, ululating shriek or whistle. The Queen’s head snapped around toward the entrance—turning an unsettling half circle to do so—and she rose from the table at once to stalk over to the glowing dome.

Isana watched her go and toyed with her food. She was starving, but this particular dish—intended to be some sort of marinade and roast combination, perhaps?—tasted singularly vile.

“Terrible, isn’t it?” Invidia said. She cut herself a small bite, impaled it on a fork, and ate it daintily. “On a scale of one to ten, ten being the most revolting and one being almost edible, I believe that rating this recipe would require the use of exponents.”

Isana ate the largest bite she thought she could stand. It was not large. She chased it down to her stomach with several swallows of water. There was no point in starting an attack too soon. Even in her diminished state, Invidia would surely notice anything truly overt. “I suppose food does not absolutely need to taste good in order to keep one alive.”

“But to keep one from committing suicide, it does need to taste better than this,” Invidia said. She fixed her eyes on Isana and smiled. It was a grotesque expression. “Why, First Lady. What do you see that disturbs you so?”

Isana cut another bite from the rectangular brick of roasted croach. She ate it very slowly. “I’m sorry to see you so harmed, Invidia.”

“Of course you are,” she said, her voice dripping acid. “After all we’ve done for one another, of course you feel sympathy for me.”

“I think you should hang from the neck until dead for what you’ve done, Invidia,” Isana replied gently. “But that isn’t the same thing as seeing you in such pain. I don’t like to see anyone suffer. That includes you.”

“Everyone wants someone to suffer, Isana,” the former High Lady replied. “It’s simply a matter of finding a target and an excuse.”

“Do you really believe that?” she asked quietly.