I straightened as if in offense. “In fact, Lord Errardi, I am insulted you could make such an insinuation. I am the heir to House Cornaro. Lieutenant Verdi, though a fine man, is far beneath my station.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Marcello stiffen. Oh, Marcello, I’m sorry. But I met my mother’s gaze, took a breath, and drove home the knife. “I would never entertain the idea of courting such an unfavorable match. I’m merely considering what is best for the Falcons and the Empire, as I expect we all are.”

Lord Errardi huffed, brushing imaginary dust off his doublet front. “Well, now, no need to be so touchy. It was an honest mistake. But still, this is a matter for the Council to discuss, not observers.”

My mother’s voice cut across the table. “I think, however, my daughter has a point. We will have more flexibility to respond to the evolving Vaskandar situation if we don’t commit too many forces to specific points on the Witchwall. There is no need to move Lieutenant Verdi yet.”

My shoulders slumped with relief. She’d taken my offering. For now, Marcello and Istrella were safe from exile to the border on my behalf.

But Marcello wouldn’t look at me. A muscle in his cheek jumped, as if in pain.

My mother and I shared a boat on the way home. I stared out at the canal, brilliant with reflected lights, the soft evening radiance drawing out the beauty and mystery of the grand facades lining the water. Marcello had left the Imperial Palace without speaking to me, and I hadn’t dared approach him—not with the whole Council there.

“You made the right choice,” my mother said quietly.

I couldn’t look at her right now. “I made the choice you wanted me to make.”

“I know it isn’t easy now. But it would have been harder later.” I felt the faintest stirring of my hair, as if she’d barely brushed it with her fingertips, then realized now was not a good time and pulled back. “Better to never form any attachment to him, than to have to break one off when politics demand it.”

“I wasn’t forming an attachment.” I faced her at last, my back stiff. “Maybe I would have. I’ll never know. You didn’t give me the chance.”

My mother fingered the triple string of black pearls around her neck. “If you had the strength and callousness, you could form all the romantic entanglements you wished, so long as you were willing to cast them aside.” She sounded strangely wistful. “But you are not so cruel.”

“And I suppose that’s my failing?” I asked bitterly.

“No. Not at all.”