Lightning’s gaze is pinned to the floor as she speaks. “We know who the commander of the Heretic siege is. There’s solid intelligence and I believe it. Kept from the public for a reason, the reason being that it would cause panic if it were known. And my family is allergic to panic. As you are well aware.”

Misery studies the lines of her profile as she dances around the truth, circling the matter of a name without touching it. “Who is it?”

An inward draw of air, a long and slow release. “Esse Temple. The commander of the Heretic siege is Esse Temple.”

Murderer of Spider’s compatriots. Haunter of Diamond’s dreams. Misery’s pulse quickens against her bones. “You never told me.”

“It’s not important—”

Misery catches Lightning’s wrist as she tries to pull away. “I decide if things are important or not. This was important. You should have told me.”

A spark of irritation; the princess gets up, crosses the room. Misery half expects her to find the door. But she sulks by the wall, arms folded. “What good would it do? I tell you, you tell Diamond, we don’t do anything anyway, everyone’s just upset for no reason.”

“That’s not the point.” Misery rises from the bed. Saint Agneta’s pattern keeps her breathing even. “You can’t be keeping secrets from me. Any information you have, I need to know. Lightning, I have to look for signs. What if this was the sign from the Larex Forge and I missed it?”

She stiffens. “Is it? That’s the sign?”

Blood rushes through Misery’s body, in her veins and in the hollows of her head. It clouds her thoughts; she cannot hear her own voice, much less that of the Forge. Ruin is notably absent, watching silently. “It could be.” It could be! Why else would the Forge have brought her into Diamond’s orbit, and rolled the greatest of her foes into their path? What other reason could there be?

Her guts heat with impatience. Misery summons a screen into the air of her quarters. Demands it tell her all it knows about the siege at Monkglass. Screw the General’s presentation tomorrow, she wants to know now. Information fountains across the bright rectangle, too fast for her to read. Headlines, essays, classified briefs. She taps on one lozenge after another before they are swept away in the scroll-by. This is all information she knows, there must be something else, something she’s missed—

That. What’s that?

Her finger lights on an image whizzing by, its pixels smeared into vague form by speed. The top embed in a longer profile. Singled out by her will, the photo freezes and coalesces into human form. Misery’s breath stops in the gap between her lungs.