Marcus, going over details of the escape plan with Uhlan and Hayver at the map table, caught sight of Raesinia and straightened up. He gestured for the others to continue what they were about and came in her direction, expression dark. Raesinia gritted her teeth. Don’t tell me he’s changed his mind now.

“I’ve been thinking about what we discussed last night,” he said quietly. “I’ve got a question.”

She nodded, and they ducked through a doorway into a spare room piled high with furniture from the rest of the house. There was barely room to stand among the overturned chairs and overloaded tables, and she felt reasonably secure they wouldn’t be overheard.

“What is it?”

“You said Cora knows?”

Raesinia pursed her lips. “She knows . . . something. She saw me get shot at the Vendre, but she hasn’t asked for any details on how I survived.” There had been several times when Raesinia nearly spilled the whole story, but she worried that Cora might find the truth a burden. She’ll need to know, someday, but not yet.

“What about the others from your old group?” Marcus said. “What about Maurisk?”

“That’s . . . difficult.” Raesinia blew out a breath. “I met with Maurisk after the revolution, and I told him I used a double that day. Whether he believed that, I honestly don’t know. If he was behind the bombing, then presumably he bought my story, or he’d know that wouldn’t have killed me.”

“Unless . . .” Marcus scratched his beard. “Something feels wrong. We know there’s a Penitent Damned in the city—”

“We do?” Raesinia said. “How?”

“Janus left behind some . . . sources of information,” Marcus said. “But the Priests of the Black would know about your . . . abilities, so they wouldn’t try to blow you up, either.”

“And someone planted the bomb under the noses of the Patriot Guards,” Raesinia said. “Which leads right back to Maurisk, or someone close to him.”

“Right.” Marcus rolled his eyes. “Saints and martyrs, give me enemies who wear proper uniforms. Then I know who to shoot at.”

“Have you thought about what happens if we find proof Maurisk was involved?”

Marcus nodded. “The Deputies-General will be in session tomorrow. We’ll dress you back up as the queen, march onto the floor, and present the evidence. Durenne won’t be able to sit on that. You can demand that the Deputies revoke the emergency powers of the Directory and put someone else in command of the Patriot Guard.”

“If Maurisk still thinks I’m in the country, that ought to catch him off guard,” Raesinia said. She sighed. “I’m worried about Sothe.”

“I’d be a little more inclined to worry for anyone who tried to cause trouble for her.”

The ghost of a smile crossed Raesinia’s lips. “That, too.”

*   *   *