“If it makes you feel better, you have my promise, and I’ll sign my name to it on parchment, that they will be interrogated…humanely,” True added this last when Aron opened his mouth to interrupt. “They will then sit tribunal, and if found guilty, they will not be executed, but instead take residence in Crittich Keep for forty years, or to their death, whichever comes first.”

“I cannot sentence a Go’Doan priest to that,” Aron spat.

“You fail to see,” Apollo entered the discussion, “that you walked into this room after the cards have been dealt. You turned your back to the game at a time when you were the only one who knew it was being played and you held all the trumps in order to win it. In the interim, the rest were forced to the table. Now you’ve decided to enter it. Thus, sir, you not only have no cards, you most assuredly have no trump.”

“I have human decency,” Aron rejoined.

“The men recruited to this cause and killed in Fire City, outside The Enchantments, those hanged for treason here but days ago and those sitting right now in Crittich Keep were Firenz and Dellish. These people send you their sick. They send you their children. Or they are lost and alone. And through their need and their gratitude, they have been preyed upon, and in the end, used. Have you no decency to extend to them?” Ophelia asked.

“We have decency enough to extend safe harbor to Airenzian females who seek to escape their oppressors and we send them to you,” Aron retorted.

“A need that will no longer be necessary as Cassius has been made Prince Regent and his first order of business is to free the females of his realm of that tyranny,” Ophelia deftly rejoined.

Aron stared at her in amazement.

Apparently, that news had not yet made its way to the Dome City.

“Aron, my brother,” Ry put in quietly before anyone else could say anything, “perhaps you and I can have a word outside the doors for a moment.”

“We’re in negotiations,” Aron returned.

“I believe he missed the point of my trump comment,” Apollo muttered to Noctorno.

Noctorno, who had requested I call him Tor, shook his head at Apollo in apparent disgust.

“But a moment,” Ry pressed.

Aron’s voice dropped. “I’ll remind you of your remit here, my brother.”

“I don’t need reminding,” Ry replied.

Aron glared at him pointedly, saying without words he felt he did.

“I would have a chat with your colleague,” Noctorno advised, sitting back in his chair and leveling a contemplative stare on Aron.

“With respect to your throne across the sea, I don’t even know why you’re here,” Aron said to Tor.

Tor opened his mouth.

But True spoke.

“He was asked by me. He is a guest of mine. In my home. Where you are sitting.”

Oh my.

True was talking through his teeth.

I’d never heard him do that.

My hand veritably itched to reach toward his.