Malachi pushed off the wall and flung his arms about Aske’s shoulders. Impact knocked the sword from her hand, and most of the breath from his body. The alley lurched. Then the strike of filthy cobbles sucked the rest of Malachi’s breath away. But still he clung tight, and weathered blows from elbows and boots as she fought to break loose. For the first moment since entering the alley, he wasn’t useless.

The moment passed, as all moments do – this one with an elbow to the gut that left him sucking for breath as commotion reigned about him. With a cry of triumph, Aske scrambled free on hands and knees.

Vision blurring, Malachi crawled in pursuit. He tried not to think about what he was crawling through. As Aske’s hand closed around her sword, he sprang. The blade hissed over his head and, for the second time that night, they went down in a tangle of arms and legs. This time, Malachi ended up on top.

A hand closed about the scruff of his collar, hauling him up and away.

“Easy, councillor,” said Viktor. “Her comrades have fled. She’s had enough.”

Malachi hadn’t the breath to reply.

“Enough?” Kasamor stalked back down the alley. Of the sallow man and his two hearthguards, there was no sign. “Not nearly.”

He kicked Aske’s sword out of reach and hoisted her upright. “Trying to kill me? That’s one thing. But threatening my friends?”

A hard shove sent Aske stumbling against the wall. Her eyes shone in defiance of Kasamor’s sword at her throat. Malachi had seen that look in the Council chamber many times. She’d gambled and lost. Of course, it was a rare day when a councillor staked his or her life as she had.

“Let her go.” To Malachi’s surprise, the words were his.

Kasamor rounded on him, eyes ablaze. “She tried to kill you.”

“And she failed.” The justification rang hollow in Malachi’s ears, so he strove for a better one. “Hand her over to the constabulary. She’ll stand trial.”

Kasamor shook his head. “You believe that?”

Thundering boots heralded Rosa’s return from deeper along the alley. Cheeks flushed from exertion, she stumbled to a halt. “Lost them halfway to the Hayadra Grove. Could be anywhere by now. What did I miss?”

Viktor folded his arms and propped a shoulder against the dray yard wall. “Kasamor’s about to murder Lady Tarev. Or maybe he isn’t.”

“You think I shouldn’t?” The harshness had returned to Kasamor’s voice. “Would you?”

“She’d already be dead.” Malachi couldn’t tell whether Viktor was joking. His friend’s face seldom gave away more than he wanted, and the old scar on his left cheek lent bleak mirth to most expressions. “But we’re talking about you.”

“Do it, or don’t,” hissed Aske. “I’m not your toy. I’ll not beg.”