Was that bitterness? Regret? Apara couldn’t be sure. She couldn’t even be certain her mother was speaking to her at all. Kasamor. A reminder that she’d not merely lost a sister, but a brother too. Apara shook her head. Such thoughts belonged to the past.

“And Viktor? Lady Orova?”

Her mother sighed. “Opportunities too good to waste. Superstition has such power. Even a simpleton knows how to fear, and to hate. Convince people that your will is actually theirs, and they’ll bleed themselves dry without ever really knowing why.”

“And what do you fear, lady?”

“Dying with my work undone. I intend to live on in every brick and stone.”

Apara realised she could no longer put off the reason for her presence. “My cousins are unhappy, lady.”

There was no outburst. No scowl. Rather, her mother laughed. “I’m certain they are. Let me guess the nature of their complaints. They’re afraid my little enterprise will interrupt their own. And are livid that I have temporarily reclaimed the kraikon they accepted as payment?”

Apara inclined her head. “Yes, lady.”

“Tell them not to be so foolish. Short-term turbulence is to be expected, but the curfews will not last for ever. The Crowmarket will ply profit from its sordid little trades soon enough, and the kraikons will be theirs again. They need only grow a spine.”

Apara winced, the memory of the elder cousin’s green eyes vivid in her mind. “I might phrase it differently, lady.”

“You may phrase it however you like, so long as they understand.”

Apara nodded. “Yes, lady.”

A sharp knock sounded at the door.

“Enter!” snapped Ebigail.

A red-haired young woman in a proctor’s robes crept into the room, head bowed. “Lady Kiradin?”

“Tailinn? I gave instructions you were to remain in the foundry in case of . . . complications.”

“Yes, lady,” Tailinn’s coastlander’s lilt danced atop the words like wind on waves. “Only I thought you’d want to know – Viktor Akadra’s there. In the high proctor’s workshop.”

Apara’s mother laughed under her breath. “Elzar. Of course. I never knew the old goat had it in him. Apara? Find Captain Farran. He’ll secure the foundry. Viktor is yours. I’ve no need of him alive.”

“Yes, lady.”

The door had barely opened when Lilyana Reveque, ordinarily so restrained, flung her arms around her husband. Josiri stepped aside and averted his gaze, embarrassed to witness a private moment.

“Malachi! Thank Lumestra! I was on the point of sending Braxov after you!”

“What? Why?”

“Sevaka’s awake.” The words came out in a gabble. “She says that Ebigail’s responsible for all of this. Kasamor. Poor Abitha Marest. Viktor’s arrest. She locked Sevaka up for days. What manner of mother could do such a thing?”

Malachi disentangled himself. “A mad one.”