“Offer a bribe, and we admit weakness. Weakness invites betrayal.” The lady sniffed. “The Republic needs strength more than I need the services of Kaleo Tassandra. Those who survive must understand the single, inflexible truth of our times: that I am not to be defied.”

The cousin stiffened, his robes twitching in a non-existent breeze. Apara caught her breath. No one spoke thus to an elder cousin. More than ever, she wished she were elsewhere.

“Have a care, Lady Kiradin,” he breathed. “The Parliament of Crows remembers your service, but there is a limit to latitude granted by favours past.”

“I agree,” the lady replied. “It is the future alone that concerns us. You will fulfil my wishes.”

After brief hesitation, he nodded. “Cousin? The task falls to you.”

Apara offered a bow. She, at least, knew the difference between a request and an order.

“What of the Grand Council?” asked the elder cousin.

Ebigail snarled. “Hah! The Grand Council is irrelevant. The Grand Council was always irrelevant. A talking shop for inbreds unfit for true responsibility. They will fall into line. Everyone will fall into line. We need only give them reason to pause.”

Green eyes blazed beneath the hood. “We will not be your footsoldiers.”

“I’m well aware of that. Look at you! For all your tricks, a little daylight chills you to the marrow, doesn’t it?” She fixed the elder cousin with an iron stare. “The Crowmarket has always clung to the shadows. I am a creature of light, and I’ll scour this city clean before I’m done. Work with me a little while longer, and we shall all have what we desire.”

The shadows about the elder cousin deepened, the dawn further distant with each quickening beat of Apara’s heart. If he ordered Lady Kiradin’s death, Apara knew she’d have no choice but to obey. The raven-cloak whispered in anticipation. She pinched her eyes shut and blocked out its voices.

“Will there be anything else?” Ice crackled beneath the elder cousin’s words.

“No . . . Yes.” The lady pressed a finger to pursed lips. “I’d like to retain Apara’s services here at Freemont for the immediate future. For contingencies, if you will.”

“She is yours.”

Apara cursed softly behind an impassive expression.

“Good,” said the lady. “Now if you’ll both excuse me, I have family business to address.”

The cell was dark, and silent but for the crash of waves. Viktor wasn’t sure how long he’d hung there, his chained wrists suspended from an iron hook in the ceiling. That was the point. Let isolation work on the mind as surely as fire and silvered steel worked on the body.