“She was set up by the empire, just as Gaunt was.”

“So she’s missing too?”

“No, she’s in Ratibor right now planning a rebellion to aid your attack.”

Parker laughed aloud at that. “Oh please, sir! You do need lessons in lying. A princess of Melengar organizing an uprising in Ratibor? Get him out of here.”

One of the soldiers drew his sword. “Remove your weapons—now!”

Hadrian considered his options. He could run, but he would never get another opportunity to persuade them. Taking Parker prisoner would require killing Simms and Fall and destroy any hope of gaining their trust. With no other choice, he sighed and unbuckled his belt.

“Exactly how confident are you that Hadrian will succeed in persuading the Nationalists to attack tomorrow morning?” Polish asked Arista as they sat at the Dunlaps’ table. Outside, it continued to storm.

“I have the same level of confidence in his success as I do in ours,” Arista replied.

Polish smirked. “I keep forgetting you’re a diplomat.”

Eight other people sat around the little table, where the city lay mapped out with knickknacks borrowed from Mrs. Dunlap’s shelves. Those present had been handpicked by Hadrian, Dr. Gerand, Polish, or Emery, who was back on his feet and eating everything Mrs. Dunlap put under his nose.

With Royce and Hadrian gone, Arista spent most of her time talking with the young Mr. Dorn. While he no longer stumbled over using her first name, the admiration in his eyes was unmistakable, and Arista caught herself smiling self-consciously. He had a nice face—cheerful and passionate—and while he was younger even than Alric, she thought him more mature. Perhaps that came from hardship and struggle.

Since he had regained consciousness, she had babbled on about the trials that had brought her there. He told her about how his mother’s death had given him life and what it had been like to grow up as a soldier’s son. They both shared memories of the fires that had robbed them of the ones they loved. She listened as he poured out his life’s story of being an orphan with such intensity that it filled her eyes with tears. He had such a way with words, a means of inciting emotion and empathy. She realized Emery could have changed the world if only he had been born noble. Listening to him, to his ideals, to his passion for justice and compassion, she realized this was what she could expect from Degan Gaunt, a common man with the heart of a king.

“You must understand it’s not entirely up to me,” Polish told them. “I don’t issue policy in the guild. I simply don’t have the authority to sanction an outright attack, particularly when there is nothing to be gained. Even if victory were assured, instead of a rather wild gamble, my hands would still be tied.”