I did not know, but did not contradict.

“What do you know already?” Caesar asked. I knew this voice of his, a special tone reserved for courtrooms, where office makes MASON play the cruel judge, while in another chair he might be merciful.

Carlyle looked to the princess curled on the couch, tresses leaking from her fallen hair like molten sun. “Danaë is my mother. Is anyone going to deny that?”

All saw the sheen of gold too strong for the brown tints of Carlyle’s hair to overwhelm, and stayed silent.

“And my father was some rival of Director Andō’s for Danaë’s hand, yes?” Carlyle continued, each word aimed at Ganymede like a dagger. “Some other young politician Madame was trying to corrupt? But there was some deal made between Director Andō and President Ganymede.” Even in rage, the good-hearted Cousin would not drop their titles of respect. “The two of you used the Saneer-Weeksbooth assassination system to eliminate my father, didn’t you?”

Ganymede laughed, as if to remind the company that a Duke is above spitting. “Don’t be absurd. Andō was not yet a Director then, and I had never set foot outside this house. How could we use a system we had not even heard of? Merion Kraye was a villain and a coward and I needed no assassin to deal with a worm who would not even face me in an honorable duel!”

Director Andō half released the Duke, as if testing to see if his haughty calm was real or feigned. “Merion Kraye was, as you say, Foster, a politician,” Andō confirmed, “a young European, and a client of Madame’s, on the middle level. They sought Danaë’s hand but, realizing I was the stronger suitor, they… disgraced her.”

“You mean they raped her?” Carlyle translated.

“No.” MASON’s bronze face set statue-hard, but other faces in the chamber seemed unsure.

Carlyle scowled. “Isn’t that what ‘disgraced’ means in your crazy ancient prejudice?”

Andō’s stern face turned sterner. “Kraye broke Danaë’s heart. Kraye wooed her, lured her, made promises to her, pressured her into an illicit meeting—with a solemn vow that it would be an innocent one—and there, when the lady would not satisfy Kraye’s mad jealous demands of eternal and monogamous fidelity,” here he glanced at golden Ganymede, “Kraye attacked her. He was caught in the act, her blood on his fists, and would not accept the consequences like a gentleman, kept abusing her with slanders no gentleman should utter. Ganymede and I were only two of the many who offered to duel to avenge the lady’s honor, but Kraye refused. When DNA proved the child was Kraye’s they went mad with rage, attacked the lady, and Madame, and others. Madame dismissed them forever from this house, and Kraye killed themself soon after.”

Carlyle scowled. “That’s not an answer, it’s a penny dreadful.”

“Tut,” Dominic warned, his voice deferent here among the princes, but still with its growling undertow. “There, little Cousin, thou malignest our philosophe; Diderot never sold for a mere penny.”