“Go try it on,” Dyeawan bids her. “It’s a little stiff and it takes some getting used to, but I think the color will suit you better than it does me.”

Riko accepts the tunic, grinning unabashedly.

“Can I… I mean, is it all right to still call you ‘Slider’?”

Dyeawan nods, the question inspiring a warm sensation in her chest.

“I still like the name,” she says. “Especially when a friend uses it. I suppose I just… I didn’t want to need the name anymore. Does that make sense?”

“I think I get it. Can I… try this on now?”

Dyeawan smiles. “Please.”

Riko practically skitters away, clasping the tunic against her.

They watch her go with shared pleasure, Quan smiling down at Dyeawan without comment.

A repeated echoing from the shadows filling the far side of the chamber draws their attention. It is the sound of two gloved hands clapping, slowly, with monotonous insincerity.

A moment later Oisin, still mocking Dyeawan with praise, steps from the shadows. The Protectorate Ministry agent is also smiling, but his is an expression filled with malice.

“And to think,” Oisin muses ruefully, “when I first saw you winding the corridors on that contraption I thought you the most pathetic of Edger’s pet rats.”

“Please leave us,” Dyeawan gently bids Quan.

The impossibly tall attendant immediately bows to her, though he does cast a sidelong glance of disdain in Oisin’s direction. Quan strides from the room in the same direction Riko left it.

“Are you here to kill me?” Dyeawan asks Oisin a moment later without a trace of fear or anticipation in her voice.

The agent laughs, empty and hollow and forced. “What a question.”

Dyeawan frowns. “If you aren’t going to kill me, what do you want?”

“How did you do it?” Oisin asks. “How did you cause Edger’s death? I know somehow you did, but I cannot for the life of me imagine how you arranged it.”

Dyeawan remains perfectly calm. “Edger spent his life with a wild creature’s teeth at his throat. It allowed him to speak, but he knew it came with great risk.”

Oisin waves a hand dismissively. “Fine. It doesn’t matter. His time was passing with or without you.”

“It matters very much,” Dyeawan disagrees.

“You cannot really believe you’ll sit in his place at that table, can you? You’ve been privy to enough Cadre information to know what we’re facing. There’s a full-blown rebellion in the east that must be dealt with. There’s an army marching on our border. You’re a child, however clever. You’re not equipped—”