Fatima hissed in a breath. “I could have sent a dozen bel dames after Mercia.”

“Not good enough.” Nyx yanked Fatima’s arm back sharply. Felt it pop out of the socket. Fatima shrieked as her arm went limp.

“Cat bitch, I’m not here to kill you!” Fatima said.

“And I’m not here to get used again. What the fuck do you want, and why did you pay Mercia to get it?”

“Talk, just talk. Goddammit, Nyx.”

“Bel dames don’t talk,” Nyx said. “And you’ve gotten slow.”

“I’m a high councilwoman. All we fucking do is talk. I could call half a dozen women in here.”

“If that was true you’d have done it.”

“Let me speak—”

“I haven’t cut your throat yet. Talk.”

“The Queen asked for you. Not to kill you! In case you haven’t noticed we have some… issues here. We need someone not associated with the bel dames or the monarchy. Your name always comes up when we have those jobs. If it was up to me, I’d let the exile stand and let you wither away in whatever shitty hole you crawled into.”

“This better be good.”

Fatima nodded to the door. “Haven’t you seen them out there? The Queen asked for you by name. I don’t fucking know why. She pardoned all criminals and made sure your name was on the list. Rumor is she’s dying, and that’s the only reason she did it.”

“Catshit.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Swear to God.”

“I swear to God—the compassionate, the merciful. I swear on my oath as a bel dame. You hear that?”

Nyx heard it. There were a lot of things Fatima would do for the Queen, but shitting on God or her oath wasn’t one of them. Nyx released Fatima’s arm and stood. Went back around the desk. She waited while Fatima struggled to her feet, useless arm dangling.

“Some assistance?” Fatima said, motioning to her bad arm.

“Gladly.” Nyx took hold of her arm and popped it back into place.

Fatima cried out and cursed. “Sit,” she barked.

“No more orders,” Nyx said. “I don’t work for you. Never did. You didn’t sit on the bel dame council till long after you stripped my title.”

Fatima winced. She settled back into her chair, favoring her injured arm. “Fine. I didn’t ask you here, Nyx, and it wasn’t my idea. I’d just as soon people forgot about you.”

“Me too.”

Fatima pulled a wad of sen from her desk drawer, and took a pinch, offered some to Nyx. Nyx shook her head. She wasn’t stupid enough to eat or drink anything in this kill hole.

“Before I tell you the details, we have some unfinished business,” Fatima said. She reached into the desk drawer with her good hand. Nyx recognized the chittering click of an organic lock tailored to Fatima’s blood.