Her insides went thick and stiff. Blood bubbled to her lips with her next breath, running down her chin. Maurisk jerked his weapon free, and Raesinia took a shuffling step backward, sitting down heavily on the edge of the bed as her legs turned to jelly. The binding was already at work, drawing the rent closed and tingling all along the dagger’s path, but with her heart stilled her muscles refused to respond for the moment. She slumped backward, arms spread, staring at the ceiling.

Maurisk waited, blood dripping from the tip of his dagger. It was less than a minute before Raesinia shuddered, coughing out a mouthful of blood and then sucking in a deep breath. She raised her head, blood and spit dribbling from the corner of her mouth.

“Is that it?” she rasped. “Are you satisfied?”

Maurisk nodded, not taking his eyes off her. Wearily, Raesinia rolled off the bed and staggered back to the basin, spitting into it several times before washing her mouth out with water from the cup. She took the soiled washcloth and wiped it across her lips, then cleaned herself where he’d stabbed her. She could feel him staring at where the wound had been, where the skin was now smooth and unbroken. Satisfied she wasn’t going to drip blood all over herself, she picked up the sheet again, winding it around her chest this time before tying it off. Harder to grab, and it leaves my arms free.

“Ionkovo told me . . . what you were,” Maurisk said. There was a slight slur to his words, too, but his eyes were clear. “I had to see for myself.”

“A demon,” Raesinia said. “A monster. I know.”

“There was never any double, that night on the Vendre.” That was the story she’d used, to explain her “death” at the hands of the traitor Faro. “That was you. He shot you in the head and you pulled him off the wall.”

“I might quibble with the order of events, but yes. We landed on a bunch of very sharp rocks. If it’s any consolation to you, it hurt quite a bit.”

“How long have you been like this?”

“Years,” Raesinia said. “You get used to it.”

“Years.” Anger and bitterness were strong in the Directory President’s voice. “Since before you met us. Our little club in the back of the Blue Mask, playing at revolution.”

“I was never playing at it. Neither was Ben. Neither were you.”

“I was risking my life. So was Ben, so was Faro, so was Cora. What the hell were you risking? A spanking?” Maurisk shook his head. “What the fuck did you get out of it? Was it really just a game?”