The sitting room door fell open at the slightest touch. Ebigail Kiradin stood at the hearthside, a brimming brandy glass in her hand. Nary a hair on her greying head nor crease on her crimson dress was out of place.

“Young Viktor. I thought it’d be you. Won’t you come in?”

“Josiri! Please come in.”

Hastened by Malachi’s greeting, Josiri stumbled into the Privy Council chamber. As he did, the other man wrinkled his nose. “What is that smell?”

Josiri was aware more than ever that he stank like something three days dead, and possibly regurgitated. “That smell is what happens when you fight in full armour at Sommertide. I don’t recommend it.”

Malachi took his place beside jumbled papers and quill. “I imagine not. You’re otherwise well?”

“Nothing that won’t mend. You?”

A wintery smile. “Time will tell.”

“Lilyana was asking for you.”

“I’m sure she was. And it’ll be longer still before I’ve a chance to see her. Ebigail is in hand, but she’s not without her supporters.” He rubbed at his brow with ink-stained fingers. “I’ve no choice but to draw up a few lists of my own.”

“Then it’s over?”

“I think so. With Horden’s death, command of the constabulary passes to Vona Darrow. Given that her wife was part of Ebigail’s leverage, I’m less concerned with Vona letting fish slip through the net than I am her gutting, frying and devouring them whole. I’ve asked Krain to provide restraint. Between that and some very penitent knights patrolling the streets, well . . .”

“Sartorov and Prydonis? Are you certain you can trust them?”

“Reasonably so. After all, I have their families.”

“That had better be a joke.”

A small smile. “The last was escorted home just a few minutes ago. My apologies. Lily’s for ever warning me about my sense of humour, and I think it may have warped under the strain.”

Josiri eased himself into a chair. His chair, although he still couldn’t bring himself to think of it as such. The wood dug into bruised muscles. “Mine’s taken a knock or two as well. As for the rest, it all seems so . . . I don’t know if easy’s the word.”

Malachi nodded. “Ebigail had orders ready, drawing troops back to the city. Some, I’ve intercepted. Others? Well, I’ve sent heralds of my own. Those officers too deep in her pockets will be removed. What we’ve done here would have been impossible even two days later. Viktor was right. Again.”

“Perhaps. But the triumph is yours.” Josiri planted an elbow on the table and propped a weary head on his hand. Stubble pricked at his knuckles. “How did you do it?”