“I should rather think that obvious, Aroth,” Janel explained gently. “We stole them. All of them. Every proof of lien you have and all your accounting books as well. It turns out that while this giant dragon was attacking, no one was guarding the Atrine Gatestone, and there was only a token guard back at your castle.”

“Which means,” Ninavis said, “that as of this moment, you cannot prove you have lent anyone so much as a chalice.”

“You won’t get away with this,” Markreev Malkoessian snarled.

Janel waved a hand. “Think it through, Aroth. Yes, you can bring in Blood of Joras—wizards and truthsayers—to verify your claims, but do you really want to remind your fellow Joratese just how in bed you are with the Royal Houses? D’Aramarin in particular. Your Censure would be quite real. Or you can honor Ninavis’s claim, support her, and no one has to know this ever happened.”

His nostrils flared, and he didn’t answer.

Janel sighed. Again her eyes seemed to change color, flickering into something resembling an ice-blue cat’s eye before it settled back into crimson. “I’m making this offer because you’re a smart, pragmatic man, and I think you and Ninavis will work well together. Jorat will need a lot of effort in the years to come and our people need strong leaders.” She shrugged. “If I didn’t think you were the man for the job, I’d have simply killed you and your son Ilvar and let your firstborn son, Palomarn, become duke. But Palomarn’s a mare, and I know he’d hate having to be in charge of an entire ward. And Dorna would be upset with me if I killed you.”

The Markreev’s expression transitioned through a lot of emotions in quick succession: anger, worry, dread, fear, and finally a wary, grudging respect. He gestured toward Ninavis. “Why her, though? Why not yourself? Setting this up must have taken you years. No one just gives away power.”

The corner of Ninavis’s mouth quirked. “I admit I’m wondering this myself.”

“I’m surprised at you, Aroth. I’m not giving away power. I’m delegating. I’d do it myself, but it turns out I’m going to be too busy with more important matters.” She raised a finger as Aroth started to protest. “Yes, it turns out that there really are matters more important than ruling Jorat.”

Aroth Malkoessian examined Ninavis. “Can you do the job?”

Ninavis laughed. “Compared to Foran Xun? A goat would do better.” She shrugged. “Wouldn’t hurt to have a good adviser. Someone who’s actually Joratese might be nice. None of that Relos Var business.”

“Indeed.” His gaze turned contemplative. No doubt the Markreev was mulling all the ways he could possibly turn the situation to his advantage. “What about my papers?”