“It had best go very right.” Disappointment and regret at pushing him away trickled down to join the more general flood of dread that had been rising slowly over me. “We’re almost out of time.”

We had less than forty-eight hours left to unravel this bitter tangle into peace. Or the Empire would write its final argument in fire.

“My, my. So these are your scholar friends? I’ve been missing the benefits of an education.” Zaira’s eyes moved appreciatively over the men and women crowding Gabril’s drawing room. There wasn’t enough furniture for the dozens of people, so many of them stood, holding wineglasses while they conducted impassioned arguments or serious discussions. It was the opposite of a Raverran party; everyone gathered toward the center with raised voices, rather than dispersing to little whispering clusters in corners.

It wasn’t at all what I had expected. There were no masks, no cloaks, no secretive cabal plotting treason. But a certain tension lay under the laughter, softened by a liquid layer of wine. Angry voices cut sharply through the chamber music from time to time, and I glimpsed furious scowls and brooding stares on some faces. Ardentine party dress apparently didn’t include a requirement to put on a false smile.

“They’re not my scholar friends,” I replied. The crowd was mostly young; with a few exceptions, most of the faces I recognized were the heirs of the powerful, rather than lords of the Council themselves. I looked for Domenic, to edge closer to him, but he was already across the room, greeting people.

“Oh, good. Then I’ll have to make Domenic introduce me.” Zaira waved a smug good-bye and sauntered off after him. Long gloves covered her telltale jess, at Domenic’s suggestion. While we had no intention of lying tonight, arriving as a brazenly obvious Falcon and Falconer in this particular crowd might throw down a gauntlet we didn’t want picked up.

Across the room, Zaira tapped Domenic’s shoulder, grinning. He took her hand and drew her into his circle, and in a moment they were all laughing. An eddy of envious misgiving swirled in me, but I ignored it. Zaira was happy. Domenic was happy. I resolved to leave the two of them together, avoid butting in, and wish Zaira the best of luck with him.

Except that she’d dropped me like a soiled handkerchief in a roomful of potentially hostile strangers.

I’d thought of Ardence as a second home, but these weren’t my friends from the university. When they spoke the name of my city, it curled their lips with spite. I didn’t belong here.

I accepted a wineglass from a passing tray and took a long, sweet draft. I wasn’t here to make friends. I had work to do.

“Pardon me, my lady. Are you Domenic’s Raverran friend?”