There was a significantly reduced guard at the palace. They’d seen to that. They should have dispatched the waif silently and gone on to the others without an alarm being raised, and then escaped unscathed, or at least with minor losses due to their vastly superior number, for Go’Vicee’s sake.

Seph drew breath into his nose.

“Thus, we also cannot assume that they will share this is naught but another Firenz coup against their sitting king,” the lieutenant went on.

“We cannot flee the city,” Seph declared.

“But, my liege—”

Seph leaned forward and bellowed, “We will not leave the city!”

He leaned back, took another deep breath and calmed himself.

“If we did, they would suspect. G’Dor nor any of the men he recruited spoke even a word of The Rising. Mars and his men investigated that thoroughly. Even entering the hallowed confines of this very temple…thrice…to search for some evidence of Go’Doan collaboration.” He shook his head. “No. A man can and will say anything under torture. It is rarely the truth. And Mars knows this.”

“I fear we are still vulnerable,” his man murmured.

“Then we will strengthen again,” Seph returned. “And we will start to do that by not showing our hand by bloody fleeing.”

No one replied which was all well, for Seph tired of this conversation.

And further, there was much to do.

Distractedly, he looked through them before he would dismiss them.

But he went still.

“Where is G’Drey?” he asked.

“My liege?” one of his lieutenants queried in return.

“Where’s G’Drey?” he demanded, louder and sharper.

There was a shuffling of feet that made the heated blood in Seph’s body feel like it would boil before a man in the back spoke.

“He was in an accident on his way to the school.”

Seph’s chin jerked into his neck. “I beg your pardon?”

“He was in an accident, my liege.”

“Come forward,” G’Seph ordered.

The man shifted through the bodies around him, doing it hesitantly, but he came forward.

“What of Drey?” Seph asked quietly when the soldier was standing before him.

“Apparently, my liege, on his way to school, he turned a corner as a horse was riding down the street. He gave the horse a fright, it reared and struck him in the head with a hoof. He received a headwound and was taken to a Firenz infirmary. A Firenz city guard came and reported it yesterday afternoon.”

It was at that, Seph’s blood ran cold.

For they might be treating a headwound.

But in so doing, they would undoubtedly find his other injuries.

And questions would be asked.

Not to mention, Seph had whipped that weak-willed priest.

G’Drey was devout to The Rising. No one who knew of the plot had not been vetted and thus known to be faithful to their righteous cause.

But Drey was weak-willed.