The interior of Lucian Lamprey's viewing box was spacious and split into two levels. Behind Lucian’s heavy wooden desk on the smaller but higher back level was the luxurious chair in which he spent most of his day. The larger space was a relaxed lounging area, with plush chairs and a comfortable couch. They were arrayed in a semicircle around the viewing window, with a low refreshments table in the middle.

Lucian had descended from his usual perch as a gesture to his visitor, awaiting her in one of the soft chairs in the viewing lounge. Respect was not the same as deference, however, and he didn’t stand as he waved her to another of the chairs. The Director of the Magic Society did not stand up to meet a crime lord.

“Thank you for your kind invitation,” Clarissa Ventress said.

Her bodyguard, Darnell, remained outside the door. He rarely was away from her side, but Ventress was at a rare disadvantage. The Fortress was the symbol of power in Old City, and she was one of its rulers. In front of Lucian Lamprey, however, she was reminded that Old City’s power was only hers so long as the Island had no interest in taking it from her. Lucian Lamprey represented both danger and opportunity.

“You have been the Fortress’s most important patron for some time now,” Ventress said. “I’m delighted you’ve given me the privilege of a meeting.”

Lucian nakedly ran his eyes over Clarissa. He could sense her bronze-rank aura, see the body sculpted into lithe perfection by the magic of her essences. She wore an exquisite green dress that both commanded and provoked. Lucian had heard the delta contained several breeds of snake that were beautiful in their colouration, but deadly to encounter. He had the same impression of Clarissa Ventress.

“The pleasure is genuinely mine,” he told her.

Lucian’s assistant Cassowary brought refreshments, setting them on the table as Lucian and Clarissa exchanged more niceties.

“As you may be aware,” Lucian said, “I am an enthusiast of the fights here in the Fortress.”

“I have heard as such,” Clarissa said.

“Normally it is the evening battles that interest me. Fighters with a full set of essences. But lately, I have found one of the lower-card fighters to be highly compelling. One of your fighters.”

Clarissa smiled. The key to controlling a person was finding what they wanted. Now she understood what Lucian wanted, her concerns melted away.

“The Nightingale,” she said.

It was hardly a leap of deduction. A certain kind of man took perverse pleasure in breaking the will of a strong woman. It was the reason Sophie made such a useful stick with which to prod Cole Silva. Clarissa enjoyed such men; she found them weak and easy to handle.

“Her real name is Sophie Wexler,” Clarissa said. “She came into my employ under the condition that I would protect her.”

“Give her to me.”