“A fellow knight . . .” She couldn’t bring herself to use the word “friend”. She told herself it was because that would too easily give Viktor’s identity away. “. . . stands accused of conspiring with the Crowmarket.”

Sevaka gulped down a mouthful of wine and scraped her chair closer to the narrow table. “Do you trust the source?”

“The source is your mother.”

The corner of her mouth twitched. “My question stands.”

“Should I?”

Another gulp. Sevaka glowered at the empty glass and refilled it from the bottle. “My mother hears many things. More than I’d like. If she brought this to you, she must have had reason.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

“Don’t be coy. There’s nothing you can say in my mother’s absence that I haven’t said to her face. Often at pitch and volume.”

“You’re not close, then?”

“Close? My brother was the only thing that mattered to her, as she has taken great pains to remind me. Everything else . . .” She shook her head. “So on the one hand, you have the honour of your comrade, and the possibility that my mother is lying, or mistaken. On the other, you have honourless – and I’m guessing – criminal endeavour by said comrade.”

Rosa nodded. “Pretty much.”

“Have you considered walking away?”

“I can’t!” She winced, having all but shouted the words. Fortunately no one had taken obvious interest. Bellowed denials were common currency in the Silverway. “I have a duty.”

Honour and duty. Ever a complicated mix. She’d sworn to Ebigail that she’d not repeat the allegations to Sevaka, and this discussion edged close to breaking that promise. Why had she sought her counsel anyway? She barely knew the woman. But if Viktor was guilty, there was every possibility Malachi was compromised. Lilyana too. Who did that leave? No one her own age. At least, no one nearer than the border.

“Even so . . .” Sevaka toyed with her glass, eyes on its contents rather than on Rosa. “This comrade . . . he’s well-connected?”

Rosa hesitated, but that alone would hardly give Viktor away. “He is.”

“Then this will end with you trapped between my family and his. Are you prepared for that?”

She’d not thought of it that way. But Kas wouldn’t have hesitated. “If there’s guilt, yes.”

“Then you need proof. Something more substantial than my mother’s word.”

Would it change anything if she knew the accusation came from Kas? Or had supposedly done so? “And if there’s no proof?”

“Then my mother must be mistaken. And we can none of us be blamed for that.”

Sevaka leaned back in her chair. Her manner was that of a duellist having delivered a deathblow, now content to wait out her opponent’s last breath. And yet there was an intensity to her gaze . . . almost an eagerness. Such a pity she couldn’t be told more, for Rosa had an inkling she’d make a capable ally.