“But I’ve scarcely seen him since the coronation,” Raisa said. “He seems so distant sometimes. And we haven’t really…I mean…he hasn’t shown any…even when I…” Cheeks burning, Raisa gave up.

“I never saw a streetlord like Cuffs for strategy,” Cat said, setting aside her basilka. “For being willing to look toward the future and wait for what he wants. That’s why he was so good at it. Everybody else, sooner or later, would rush into trouble without a plan. And Cuffs would be waiting.” Cat crinkled her brow. “Jemson used to talk about that. He’d call it…ah…deferred gratification, though I don’t think he exactly had street wars in mind.”

“If he has a plan, he hasn’t shared it with me,” Raisa muttered.

“He hasn’t shared it with me, either,” Cat said, flexing her fingers. “Cuffs is good at keeping secrets. Even when we were partners, we really weren’t. I never knew what he would do next. He doesn’t really trust anybody. That’s how he stayed alive.”

“But…How do I put this—” Raisa couldn’t figure out how to say, Even when I make the first move, he turns me down.

But Cat understood where she was going. “He’s the one steps away, right?” she said. “He knows this is dangerous turf—for both of you. He won’t make his move until he knows he can win it all.”

“But what if that never happens?” Raisa said.

“He won’t settle,” Cat said. “He’ll wait forever if need be.”

Forever, Raisa thought. I don’t have forever. One of us is going to get killed.

A knock came at the door. No, more like an urgent pounding.

Don’t answer it, Raisa wanted to say. Sounds like trouble.

But Cat put her basilka aside and crossed to the door. “Who is it?” she asked through the wood.

Amon’s voice came back. “It’s Captain Byrne. I need to speak with the queen. It’s important.”

Cat looked at Raisa.

“Let him in, of course,” Raisa said testily. “He wouldn’t be here at this time of night if it weren’t important.”

Cat opened the door, and Amon stood framed in the doorway. Behind him cowered a small, wiry boy in scruffy clothes. And behind him stood Pearlie Greenholt and three other guards.

Amon looked grim and unhappy, like he was on official business—business that he dreaded. Raisa was already sorry she’d let him in.

“Flinn!” Cat blurted, over Raisa’s shoulder. “What are you doing here?”

Flinn’s eyes widened when he saw Cat. He took a step back, turning as if to flee, but Amon caught hold of his arm and held him fast.

Flinn. Why was that name familiar? Where had Raisa seen him before?