We crossed the street to the narrow stone staircase. The terrace sat forty feet above the street, too far to jump. If we went up there, the staircase would be the only way down.

Karat eyed the stairs. “Your sister informed me that you are not a fighter. If there’s trouble, hide behind me.”

“Thank you for that generous offer.”

“It wasn’t a suggestion.”

She really was Maud’s best friend. They were exactly the same.

The terrace was empty except for the woman with the mirror. As expected, it offered only two exits, the stairs that we took and a door leading inside the second floor of the weapons shop. The door was open, and something stood just inside, hidden in the gloom.

“A combat droid,” Karat murmured.

“How can you know that? It’s too dark to see.”

“I smell the lubricant and cooling fluid.”

Vampires.

Karat halted. I stopped too. The woman watched us for a moment, then approached. She moved very quietly. She came within three feet of us and held out a small tablet. On it a familiar face grinned. The haircut was different, the clothes didn’t match his current image, and his smile had a vicious edge, but there was no doubt.

“His name, his true name, is Cumbr Adgi. His father rules the Vagabond fleet of the Muterzen meteorite belt.”

“Pirate,” Karat spat out. “I hate pirates.”

“He was raised in luxury bought with the misery of many others. He’s sadistic and merciless.”

The woman pulled her hood down. Tiny scales sheathed her face. With her large, dark eyes and delicate features, she would have been beautiful by any standard. A large scar crossed the left side of her face, stretching diagonally from her nose to her jaw. The edges of the scar were red and ragged. Another scar clasped her neck, old and thick from repeated wounds. It was the kind of scar a dog might get if it strained against a collar with spikes on the inside.

“I was altered for him. To please him. The scales are his fetish. He did this.” She pointed to the scar on her face. “And this.” She pointed to her neck.

Her eyes told me she wasn’t lying. They brimmed with pain and cold anger, a kind of fury that had burned like a fire but had been repressed for so long, it crystalized into ice. This woman suffered in ways I couldn’t even imagine. People said the eyes were the windows to the soul. If that was true, her soul was raw.

Karat was perfectly still, like a statue.

“There is a price on the Sovereign’s head. It’s enough to buy a whole fleet,” the woman said.

“But it’s not the money, is it?” I asked.

“No. He wants to outdo his father and his siblings. This act would bring him great prestige and honor among those he seeks to rule one day.”