“Miles was jealous, and furious that Aldrick should use her so—though the girl didn’t seem to mind. So he challenged Aldrick to the juris macto on the spot.”

“The famous duel in Alera Imperia,” Isana said.

Araris nodded. “Miles was going to get himself killed, so I nudged him out in front of a wagon. That’s where he got his bad knee. And I took his place in the juris macto.”

Isana frowned up at him. “Why?”

“Because what Aldrick was doing was wrong. Regardless of whether or not it reassured her.” He gave her a brief, wan smile. “There are some things you just can’t ignore.”

She nodded slowly. “Go on.”

“Not much more to it,” Araris said. “I beat Aldrick, but I couldn’t kill him. He was one of the Princeps’ singulares. Like a brother to me. But while he was still on his knees, Septimus walked up to him and castigated him, in front of half of the capital. Cast him out of his company and made it clear in no uncertain terms that Aldrick was to stay out of his sight if he wanted to keep breathing.”

“What happened?”

“No one in Alera Imperia would have let him wash their dishes for free after what Septimus said. So he took the girl and left.”

“Odiana,” Isana said. The image of the tall, dour Aldrick and the sweetly curved dark-haired woman always to be found in his company sprang into her thoughts.

Araris nodded. “I tried to be kind to her, for my part. Helped her eat. Gave her my blanket one cold night, on the way to the capital. I suppose that’s why she helped me at Second Calderon. But afterward, I thought that it would have been better if I hadn’t fought him once Miles was safely in a healing tub. The duel made the events that provoked it public knowledge. Septimus had no choice but to dismiss Aldrick, and as harshly as possible. If I hadn’t handled it that way, maybe Aldrick would have been at First Calderon. Maybe it would have made a difference. Maybe a lot of things would be different.”

“Do you believe that?” Isana asked.

Araris smiled faintly. “I don’t know. I think about it often, what I might have done differently. But I suppose we all do that with the important choices.”

A knock sounded at the door.

“Ah,” Isana said. “The escort from the Senate, I suppose.” They broke their embrace, and Isana carefully smoothed her dress. “Would you care to open the door, please.”

Araris drew himself back up into flawless military posture and inclined his head to her. Then he went to the door, reached out a hand—

And the door itself flew from its hinges with a squeal of tearing metal, struck Araris full on in the chest, and flung him across the room to crash into the opposite wall.