“Not a city, no.” Balos’s eyes softened to somber brown pools. “But we’ve seen our share of battle. Probably the worst was a few years back, when a large band of pirates were harassing trade along the Ostan coast. They had their own little navy—a couple dozen ships. When the Serene Empire found the cove they were using as a base, they sent us to wipe them all out.” He shook his head. “Storm warlocks get going more slowly than fire warlocks, but for a coastal camp like that, the destruction is just as complete in the end. He raised a hurricane. A lot of the pirates fled inland when they realized what was happening, but plenty of them stayed and died. There wasn’t one board left nailed to another once Jerith was done.”

I swallowed. “And what did you do?”

He caught my eyes. “My job.”

“Your job.” I considered that. “Being a Falconer isn’t my job, Balos.”

“I know, Lady Amalia.” He gave me an odd, sad smile. “Do you know what yours is?”

That was a good question. I was my mother’s heir; one might argue that I didn’t have a job at all, yet. I might have given that answer a month ago.

But now I knew better. I was a Cornaro, and there was work to be done.

“To fix things,” I said. “To fix all this mess.”

Balos lifted his hand, with deliberate gravity, in salute. “You do that, then.”

I nodded, my heart quickening as if it anticipated a fight. “I will.”

“I’m sorry, my lady.” The footman in the River Palace antechamber did seem truly distressed, his nimble fingers rubbing at each other as if friction might prove the solution to our problem. “His Grace is in meetings with his nobles until dinnertime. I’ve been told not to interrupt. But perhaps tomorrow morning?”

I leaned on the functionary’s desk. “The news I have is urgent. It can’t wait that long. It’s bad enough I left it until this morning.” A day and a half left. And that scant grace could vanish if the Ardentines started a fight.

Beside me, Zaira brushed back her hair, and the jess flashed on her wrist. The functionary’s face went pale as he realized who she must be. He started stammering incoherently.

Before I could despair of getting any sense out of the man, Lady Savony glided into the antechamber, a bundle of papers in her arms. “Rinald, these require the duke’s signature, once he’s out of his meetings. Lady Amalia.” Her brows arched. “Is something amiss?”

Thank the Graces. If anyone could get me in to see the duke, it was her. “We made a discovery last night that affects the safety of Ardence. For the sake of both our cities, I need to speak to Duke Bergandon.”