“Ever since the Breaking, we’ve been trying to find a way to work with the bloody Gray Wolf queens,” Lord Bayar said. “We’ve been supplicants, seeking forgiveness for something that happened a thousand years ago. We’ve begged to climb into their beds, while the copperheads stand watch like abbesses in the temple garden. Well, I’m done with that.”

Micah shifted his gaze to Fiona, who was trying to maintain a neutral expression, but not quite succeeding.

“Was this your idea?” he asked her.

“No, but I agree with him,” Fiona said.

“I hardly need your sister to tutor me in politics.” Lord Bayar smiled a thin smile. “The landscape has changed dramatically while you’ve been down in the Vale.”

“That’s exactly why we have to move quickly,” Micah growled.

“We’re not talking about the situation in the capital,” Fiona said. “We’re talking about the Armory of the Gifted Kings.”

Micah sat back in his chair, gripping the arms to either side, frustration building. “What about it? That tired threat would be a lot more potent if we knew where it was.”

“That’s just it,” his father said, putting a hand on Fiona’s arm. “We do.”

Fiona’s eyes widened a fraction, and she opened her mouth as if to speak, and then closed it again. Most wouldn’t have noticed it, but Micah knew his sister very well.

Had they meant to keep this secret from him? He straightened a bit in his chair, wary. “Go on,” he said.

“On our way back from the council meeting, Alister surprised us in the tunnels just outside Aerie House,” his father said. “Or, perhaps we should say, we surprised him.”

Micah looked from Fiona to his father. “What happened?”

“He attacked me with a knife,” Lord Bayar said. “No doubt he intended to finish what he started that day at the market.”

“Why would he use a knife?” Micah asked, noting that his father seemed none the worse for wear. “An amulet would be—”

“Perhaps mine was meant to be the next body to surface in Ragmarket. Or Southbridge, since Ragmarket has been reduced to ash. Fortunately, we were able to overpower him.”

He reached into a strongbox next to his chair and lifted out an object. “To our surprise and delight, he was carrying this.” He handed it across to Micah.

The blood-colored metal rippled like flame in Micah’s hands. He traced the sharp edges with his fingertips, touched the rubies in their elaborate settings. “The Crimson Crown? Where would he get this? And why would he bring the crown of the gifted kings to a murder?”

“We assumed it was because he’d just come from the armory,” Fiona said. “He hadn’t had time to stow it first.”

“So Alister has the armory?” Micah said, stunned.

“He did,” Lord Bayar said, with a feral smile. “And now we have it.”