‘Just this,’ Vass laughed. ‘All of this.’

‘I’m certain that your alliance with House Xudine will bring you great fortune,’ Chetta said, with a completely straight face.

‘Oh, I’m sure it will,’ Vass agreed with a smile. ‘Especially given that Kennevario seems so happy with the progress made so far in his talks with your brother-in-law! I owe you a debt for agreeing to end the dispute between your houses, although of course I understand that the decision wasn’t taken with any thought to my benefit.’ Her smile widened. ‘I suppose the Emperor guides the hand of happy coincidence.’

‘I’m certain that He does,’ Chetta agreed, with a smile of her own. Everything about Vass’ presentation suggested that Chetta was looking at a flighty, insubstantial woman who’d been awarded a Letter of Marque as… what? A bribe? As the result of a bribe? As a convenient method of getting her out of the way, by compelling her to comply with the Letter’s requirements of exploration and conquest in the name of the Imperium? It wouldn’t be the first time such a thing had happened.

And yet she’d worn power armour like she’d been born in it, and for all its richness and frippery, the suit hadn’t been unmarked. The dents and scratches had been lovingly smoothed out, filled in and painted over, but they’d still been there. The armour itself had seen action; the only question was, had Vass been inside it at the time?

This exuberance was a few steps up from the smoothly urbane rogue trader laughing at a secret joke, whom Chetta had met at Azariel’s wake. Either Vass was drunker – possible – or she’d been deliberately restraining her more effusive nature due to the solemnity of the event – also possible – or this evening’s version of Vass was a performance. In which case, Chetta mused, as Vass curtseyed again in farewell and steered the still-reluctant Alexun van Sennit away across the room, she was fairly certain that she wasn’t its intended audience.

‘This is Lady Chettamandey,’ she sub-vocalised into the comm-bead worked into her choker. ‘I want constant surveillance on Rogue Trader Vass. Where she goes, but particularly who she talks to, and what gets said.’

‘Acknowledged, my lady,’ came the response into her ear. There was a brief pause and then the same security guard spoke again, slightly hurriedly. ‘My lady, please be advised that Lord and Lady Jo’Sin are behind you.’

Chetta quelled the small smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth, and made a mental note to find out which staffer it was who’d just warned her of her sister-in-law’s approach and reward them in some small way. She turned on the spot.

‘Morandia, Jalamar,’ Chetta said amiably, managing to hide how amused she was by their clear disappointment at being unable to surprise her from behind. ‘How good of you to accept our invitation.’