The marquise of Palova glanced at my mother, then cleared her throat. “The Falcons stationed on the Witchwall will require a capable leader. Perhaps after the Ardence matter is settled, Lieutenant Verdi could proceed to the border and take command there.”

Marcello blanched. I rocked back on my heels with the shock of her suggestion. There’d been no hint of this from Marcello or the colonel.

Hell of Madness. This was my mother’s doing, to keep us apart.

I glared at her across the table. She met my eyes with cool interest. Watching to see what I would do.

Vasante frowned. “The border fortresses are dozens or hundreds of miles apart. I’d assumed we would coordinate command from the Mews by courier lamp.”

The marquise spread her hands. “Would it not be wise to have a trusted officer on the border near Mount Whitecrown, ready to respond to unexpected situations? Clearly we have great confidence in Lieutenant Verdi, to place him in charge of such a sensitive mission as Ardence. Would he not be a fine choice?”

Her tone was questioning, not declarative. The marquise didn’t meet my eyes, but my mother stared straight at me, her eyebrow raised.

Marcello’s lips moved. No sound came out, but I read a name: Istrella. He looked ready to crumple at any moment.

Anger and fear twined in my belly like twin snakes. “Colonel Vasante is right,” I said. “Sending Lieutenant Verdi to the border makes no sense. He’d have to coordinate by courier lamp anyway. And he’s best able to serve the Empire at the Mews.”

Around the table, cynical faces turned heavy-lidded eyes to me, too steeped in old power to think much of my interruption. This time, I hadn’t offered useful new information, like I had with the volcano. I’d made the transparent plea of a young girl.

But Marcello’s eyes begged me, with desperate hope: Get me out of this.

“Young lady.” It was the supercilious drawl of one of the older members of the Council, Lord Errardi, whom I’d sometimes seen napping at meetings. “You are out of order. Your obvious desire to protect your sweetheart is very touching, but this matter is not for you to decide.”

Heat flushed all the way to my ears. “He’s not my sweetheart.”

Wonderful. Now I sounded completely infantile. But feeling my mother watching me, I knew what I had to do.