“Planning to put him in his place, are you?” Elzar nodded. “Then I doubt I’ve reason to worry.”

Viktor had known him too long not to recognise the note of reserve. Truth was, the surviving provosts wouldn’t forget. One false step, one whiff of questionable behaviour, and they’d have Elzar in their clutches – all in the name of vigilance, as far as anyone else was concerned.

“You shouldn’t have become involved,” said Viktor.

Elzar sniffed. “And if I hadn’t? Lilyana would still have fled here, which means Ebigail would still have sent her thugs. You might at least thank me for my trouble.”

“I thought I had.”

He grinned. “Wouldn’t hurt to do it again. You know what my memory’s like.”

Viktor offered a low bow. “Then, thank you High Proctor Ilnarov, for saving my life. And my apologies for putting you behind schedule.”

Elzar gave a dismissive wave. “This place will be up and running again by the end of the week, though I don’t know how I’ll manage it without Tailinn.”

Tailinn. Ebigail’s tame proctor. The passage of time had done little to dull the memory of her death. The first time he’d used his shadow to kill. The memory felt better than it should. “I’d say you’ll manage.”

“True enough. What about you? What will it take to scour the misery off your face?”

“A miracle.”

“Then I’ll get accustomed to that grimace. Miracles are in short supply . . . Unless we make them ourselves.”

“And how do I do that? Malachi wants me to solve everyone’s problems.” He plucked a scrap of cloth from Elzar’s desk and turned it over in his hands. King’s blue. Like the ribbon Calenne had given him the last time they’d spoken. A lifetime ago. “I’m a soldier, not a politician. Worse, I’ve been overconfident. Arrogant. It nearly cost me everything just yesterday . . . It may already have cost others more.”

“I see.” Elzar raised a bushy eyebrow. “What’s her name?”

There was no arguing with that stare. Viktor took another deep breath of the stale air. “Calenne. She rescued me from a mistake. Steadied me when everyone else begged me to fail. And in the end, she took up an unfamiliar sword and fought in a cause she hated, all because I asked her to do so. I have to know what’s become of her.”

“Then find her.”

Viktor set the scrap of cloth aside. “And if I do, my father will drag the Republic back into the mire. He’ll twist Malachi’s intent into his own ascension. He’ll not be as bad as Ebigail, but nothing will improve.”

“So what?”

Viktor blinked his surprise. “I don’t follow.”

“How long have we known each other?”

“Too long.”