That has to mean something. If she went to the corner pamphlet seller, Raesinia knew, she would find The Patriot and its like to be the only things on offer. If the Conservatives had dominated the press before, now they had simply extinguished all other voices. Several Radical printers and writers had been arrested in the general roundup, and now languished in the impromptu cells beside the Hotel Ancerre. I’m surprised Maurisk hasn’t gotten around to reopening the Vendre.

The fact that these government-approved publications said nothing at all about Janus’ army, even though—according to Marcus—the news from that corner was good, could only mean that Maurisk was not interested in the general further enhancing his reputation. With Durenne disposed of, Janus is the only remaining threat. We have to get in communication with him. Hence the frantic efforts to contact Willowbrook.

“Can I ask you something?” Andy said.

Raesinia folded the paper—in the more usual way, this time—and looked up. “What about?”

“If you’re the queen”—Andy kept her voice low—“what are you doing here?”

“It’s kind of a long story,” Raesinia said.

“I can imagine,” Andy said. “But I think we’ve got time.”

The proprietor arrived, bearing a wooden tray of steaming bread, a bottle, and two glasses. When she retreated after a few moments of slicing, uncorking, and pouring, Raesinia looked thoughtfully at Andy.

What the hell? Why not tell her?

So she did. Not everything, obviously—not her death and Orlanko’s demon. But the story of how she’d founded the conspiracy against her own rule, in order to fight back against the increasing influence of the Last Duke, and how it had ended in blood and revolution. Andy listened, absorbing everything in silence.

“That’s . . . wow,” she finally said when Raesinia sat back.

“When I tell it like that, it all seems a little mad,” Raesinia said.

“What happened to the rest of the conspiracy?”

“Cora was one. Maurisk was another.” Raesinia was surprised to find that she still felt a sense of betrayal there. “The others . . . died. One of them was working for Orlanko. Another . . . he was in love with me, and got himself killed trying to keep me safe.”

“Ah.” Andy shook her head. “I think Hayver had . . . feelings for me. He kept trying to work himself up to talking about it. I thought it was cute, stupid tongue-tied boy, but I didn’t want to encourage him.” She looked down at the table. Raesinia heard screams in her head, and knew Andy was hearing the same.

Silently, Raesinia picked up the bottle and poured Andy a full glass, followed by a token amount for herself. Alcohol was more or less wasted on her, since the binding didn’t allow even a pleasant fuzziness.

“I still don’t understand,” Andy said, coming out of her reverie.

“Don’t understand what?”