Calenne glared at her, a brace of the demon’s ribald tales surfacing from the pit of memory. “I dread to think what you mean by that. If there’s to be any disrobing – if this is some northwealder’s perversity – I cherish my ignorance. Just because I’ve spent fifteen years locked up in this house doesn’t mean I don’t hear rumour of what goes on among quality folk when the drapes are drawn and passions run amok.”

Viktor held up a soothing hand. “It’s not. Or at least not in the way you suggest . . .”

“And what, pray, does that mean?”

A deep breath before the plunge. “There’s a side of me that you can’t see. Anastacia can. A gift like Yorvin’s, but different. I keep it hidden. I have to.”

He watched her closely, searching for the fear that warned of betrayal. What was he prepared to do if he saw it? He didn’t know. Could he kill her? No doubt. She was a young woman half his age, untempered in battle. Her neck would snap cleanly enough. But at the same time, Viktor suspected he lacked strength of a different sort. And not just because the act would doom his attempt to win Josiri’s support. He’d grown more used to Calenne’s company than he could have believed.

“You’re a witch.” She spoke flatly, without expression.

“I’m a man. One who’s striving to save your brother from foolishness, and your people from conquest. I will do nothing to hurt you. You have my word. But you must tell no one of this, not even Josiri.”

His shadow stirred, woken from its slumbers by his fear. Viktor’s skin prickled with cold as his shadow slunk to join those cast by the lanterns.

Anastacia perched on the edge of the altar, her fingers idly toying with the doll’s hair. For a mercy, she held her tongue. Unfortunately, so did Calenne.

“Calenne . . .” Viktor began.

“I’ll tell no one, not even Josiri.” She shook her head furiously, as if trying to dislodge something from her hair. “Do you believe me so shallow? I’m not swayed by labels, and certainly not those bestowed by the Council, or the church. If I’m to hate you, I’ll do so on my own terms.” She offered a thin smile. “And I said that you had it in you to be a monster.”

Her fingers whitened at the knuckles where they hugged her elbows close. But though her expression was notably less friendly than minutes before, it fell short of the terror with which she’d first beheld him.

Viktor exhaled, and felt a burden slip from his shoulders. “You did indeed.”

Anastacia’s soft applause echoed around the chapel. “Oh, well done. She’s grown more in two days of freedom than fifteen years of captivity. So, are we still doing this?”