“Not Viktor,” Lord Akadra interjected. “Whatever his choices, he holds the Republic close to his heart.”

“Really? Then why has he never married? The bloodlines are withering. The Republic needs more than merchants suffering pretensions of nobility. We’ve let matters slide too far.”

“I’m sure our forebears believed the same of us.”

“Nonsense. This is different . . .” She broke off, her eyes narrowing. “Please don’t tell me you’ve sympathy with Malachi’s nonsense.”

Lord Akadra winced. “I confess to seeing some small benefit to the cessation of hostilities.”

Lady Kiradin sniffed. “Benefit to yourself, you mean. What use is gold if the Republic crumbles around us? But I wouldn’t expect you to see that. You’re weak in the middle.” She drew closer. “Do you think I’ve forgotten how you crumpled before your beloved son?”

Lord Akadra’s scowl hardened into something cold, almost fearful. “I had no choice.”

“Of course you did. You simply lack the stomach to make it.”

“And you know no such restraint, I suppose?”

“What a question to ask a mother at her son’s graveside.”

“Lady!” Marek hurried to offer an arm for support as Lady Ebigail’s knees buckled. She clung to it with an iron grip as she steadied.

“Thank you, Marek. At least someone knows their duties.”

“Mother? Is anything wrong?”

The day grew brighter still at Lady Sevaka’s approach. Lady Ebigail was a handsome woman, no question. Marek had broken the jaw of the last man to suggest otherwise. But her daughter? She shone like the sun. When Lady Sevaka had departed for service in the navy, Marek had feared the ocean wind would wither her golden hair and turn her cheeks gaunt. But such a fate had not come to pass. Lady Sevaka remained as radiant as when a child, even in the drab grey garb of a lieutenant of sail.

“A passing weakness, my dear, nothing more. Indeed, I was discussing such with Lord Akadra, was I not?”

Lord Akadra nodded but said nothing.

Lady Sevaka’s grey eyes narrowed. “There’s no shame in admitting grief, Mother. And I’m sure you’ve been working yourself too hard. Hasn’t she, Marek?”

“And we should all be grateful for that.”

“Perhaps. But you must allow yourself time to grieve, Mother.”

“She’s right, Ebigail,” said Lord Akadra. “The Republic will endure without your guidance until tomorrow.”

Lady Ebigail eyed him with suspicion. “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure.” She turned her attention to Sevaka once more. “You’ll join me in the carriage, my dear?”

“Actually, I’d agreed to spend the afternoon with Rosa. We’d a mind to toast my brother’s memory . . . once or twice.”