She sat on what might have been a lavish throne, but it was difficult to tell, as little of it was visible behind the silken folds of her crystal-blue robes. They bunched to her shoulders and cascaded across the floor like a tsunami. Her headdress was even more neck-strainingly elaborate than usual, adorned with the fangs of a dozen banner-bugs arranged like the points of a crown. Even the faceplate was formed from the head of such a beast. Its savage features had been tempered to appear vaguely humanoid, which only made it more terrifying. Her right hand clasped a spear-sceptre, the barbed end presumably made from the insect’s stinger. The weapon looked ancient, but its tip still glistened with a sickly yellow glint. I found myself praying it was purely ceremonial, though it struck me that such ceremonies could include ordering an execution.

She said nothing until our party had marched into the chamber and bowed, though confined to my chair I could do little more than nod my head. I hoped she would not find this disrespectful, but I doubted it would make much difference to my final fate.

‘Propagandist Simlex,’ she said, her voice muffled slightly by the mask. ‘You did not heed my warnings.’

‘Sadly so, my lady,’ I said. ‘I should have trusted your guidance.’

She ignored the clumsy compliment, rolling her weapon between thumb and forefinger.

‘Still, you survived.’

‘Yes. Thanks to Flight Commander Shard.’

‘Shard?’ she hissed, leaning forward, the spear resting across her lap. ‘That renegade almost got you killed. Do you have any idea how poorly it would reflect on me if I allowed a relative of Planetary Governor Zanwich to die on my watch? Did you even consider that?’

‘I did not. I am sorry.’

‘Spare me,’ she said. ‘She will be taken care of. You are the only loose end from this ghastly enterprise.’

I did not know what to say. Dolos was in no mood for charm or platitudes. I know not what had transpired whilst I was trapped in the swamps, only that her knuckles whitened as she clasped the spear-sceptre, her anger palpable. I did not speak, fearing anything I said would invite retaliation.

She waited a heartbeat longer before continuing. Her voice had softened slightly, but still held a malicious edge.

‘Poor Simlex,’ she said. ‘I’m sure she made all kinds of promises to persuade you to fly. You are lucky to still be breathing.’

‘Yes, governor.’

‘And I intend to keep you that way,’ she continued, motioning to her ­physician. ‘My medicae has made some modifications to your quarters. Under his watchful care I am sure you will recover. In time.’

‘Thank you, governor. I am already feeling stronger, and I am sure a few days–’