They were already shoving at it, though the heavy armchairs shifted only slightly. Raesinia could hear fists pounding on the wood and raised voices from the other side.

“What about Maurisk?” Raesinia said. “Have you found him?”

Winter shook her head. Sothe quickly opened both doors on the side of the room where Raesinia’s cell had been, revealing quarters for another servant and a water closet, both empty. The open door the Penitent Damned had come in by led to a dining room, and a quick glance proved this also to be unoccupied. That leaves one.

Sothe put her hand on the latch, but Raesinia waved her aside.

“Your Majesty—” Sothe began.

“We both know that if he’s sitting in there with a pistol, it’s better if I open the door,” Raesinia said. “Stay back a bit, just in case.”

She thumbed the latch and pushed the door open. Inside was an office, richly furnished in gleaming hardwood and gilt, bookshelves lined with matched sets of leather-bound volumes. Directly in front of the door, a prim-looking young man stood with a small sword in hand, waiting in a painfully erect stance right out of a fencing salon. Behind a vast desk, slumped over in his chair, sat the President of the Directory, a nearly empty wine bottle dangling from one hand.

“Who is it, Kellerman?” Maurisk said without raising his head.

“It’s . . .” The young man blinked, and the tip of his sword quivered. “It’s, um, the queen. I think.”

“Ah. You may as well stand down, then.”

“Sir,” Kellerman said, looking over Raesinia’s head. “They’ve slaughtered the guards—”

“Stand down,” Maurisk said, a hint of steel entering his tone. He raised the bottle to his lips and tipped it back, then let it fall on the carpet with a thump. “Your Majesty. I hadn’t expected to see you like this.”

“Whereas I must admit I was hoping for something of the sort,” Raesinia said. She stepped forward as Kellerman lowered his sword and moved out of the way. Maurisk’s bleary eyes focused on her. “I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint Dr. Sarton.”

Maurisk barked a laugh. “He’ll get his fill, one way or another. Executioners and grave diggers are the real winners of every war.”

“Charming.” She gestured at the door. “Come on. Get up.”

He frowned. “Why?”

“Quite a few of your Patriot Guards are outside. You’re going to tell them what you told Kellerman. It’s over.”

“Why would I do that?” Maurisk straightened up, though his head still lolled slightly. “Perhaps I’d rather take my chances when they break in.”