“You’re in no position to make demands.”

“The Parliament have marked him, and I want the bounty.” She looked up, fresh resolve in her grey eyes. “I’m more useful to you if I have their confidence.”

So his father had roused vranakin ire? He could leave the Crowmarket to its business, and that would be the end of the matter. No one need know. Except . . . He’d know. The memory of that weakness would stay with him far longer than the guilt.

“Take them and go.”

Apara crouched beside the prisoner. He fought, but he fought blind and groggy, and a second blow to the head stilled his last resistance. Hands gleaming with silver and gold, Apara retreated into Otherworld. Mist flooded the doorway and boiled to nothing, leaving the men alone.

Viktor unbound the captive’s hood and tore it free. Bleary eyes stared up from a haggard face.

“Viktor?” gasped Hadon Akadra. “So it is you. What is this?”

“This, Father, is our last conversation.”

His father staggered upright. Desperate eyes flickered about the shadows. “Where in Lumestra’s name are we?”

“Coventaj, where men once sought absolution for their sins.”

Eyes widened. “This place is forbidden.”

“Mother told me stories of how they’d bathe in the waters, lured by siren song. Those whom the spirits found worthy were permitted to leave. All others, they dragged beneath the surface, never to be seen again.” Viktor lowered himself onto a slab of rock. “Tell me. How do you suppose you’d fare?”

His father scowled. “Your mother filled your head with a lot of nonsense. It’s little wonder you turned out as you did.”

“As a witch?”

“As a fool. A muddled fool who lacks all sense of priority. Whose veneer of courage peels away at every sob-story.” His eyes narrowed. “I raised you to be strong. All your mother ever gave you was weakness.”

Viktor shook his head. He’d wondered what he’d feel at this moment. Sorrow? Dread? Anger? But there was nothing. Just a yawning chasm filled with spent memories.

“You lecture me about strength, Father? It’s been years since you found the courage to stand for more than self-interest.”

Now there was anger. Not at his father, necessarily, but at the waste of everything his father could have been. Hadon Akadra, General of the Republic and Defender of the Ravonn. He’d seemed a giant when Viktor had been young. No. A god. How times changed.

“But you’re right, Father. I’ve been weak. I’ve asked others to make hard choices – choices that have cost them everything. And all the while, I’ve shied away from my own. No more. You belong to the past. It’s time you took your place within it. You’ll not be found, and you’ll not be missed.”