“I suppose you could make your own assessment.” Venasha tilted her head. “You’re going to meet him tonight, right?”

“Yes. Domenic invited me to his brother’s treason party.”

“Can you wait until after the party to decide what to do?”

We had less than three days left. But it didn’t make much sense to turn Gabril in before the party, given that it was the best lead I had to try to find out whether and how the Shadow Gentry might be involved in the kidnapping plot. “I suppose I could wait.”

Venasha put a hand on my shoulder. “It may not make the choice any easier, but at least you’ll have more information.”

“Thank you.” I folded her in a quick hug.

“Come on,” she said with a smile. “Let’s go meet my husband, and you can convince him to make better choices than Gabril.”

I laughed. “When you put it that way, it sounds easy.”

We finished crossing the plaza and entered the gardens. They were nearly empty due to the threatening clouds.

A stray drop hit my nose. I hoped it wasn’t bringing its friends. “Will Foss even be here, with this weather?”

“When it’s raining, he sometimes waits in the pavilion.” Venasha gestured toward an open-sided building with white marble columns standing on a knoll, visible in glimpses through the distant trees.

But as we approached, a shout of anger and alarm sounded from the dense grove ahead, between us and the pavilion.

Venasha paled. “That’s Foss. Oh, Graces. Aleki!”

She broke into a run, skirts fluttering around her. I followed.

Why did this have to happen on the one day I was laced into a corset and wearing fashionable shoes instead of boots and breeches? My chest heaved as I hurried after Venasha, lungs forced to expand upward with my waist cinched too tight for deep breathing. At least I still had my dagger at my hip, and my flare locket around my neck.

Our path rounded a tall hedge and plunged into the trees. And there was Foss, at last, but he wasn’t alone.

He sprawled against a statue of the winged Grace of Victory, blood pouring down his side, his face pale with shock. A man with a long knife faced him, shaking crimson drops off his blade.

Venasha screamed and flung herself between Foss and his attacker, arms spread to shield him. I took advantage of the distraction and stabbed at the ruffian’s neck.

He spun, and my blade caught him across the shoulder instead, but it was a deep gash. He swore and dropped his knife, his arm falling limp.

“Who are you?” I demanded. “Why are you attacking my friend?”

“Aleki,” Foss moaned from Venasha’s arms. “There was another one. He ran off with Aleki.”