He turned toward his carriage. “Look to your borders, O Lady of the Empire,” he called back over his shoulder. “You may soon find your legions and armadas and Falcons are not enough.”

I stared after him. The sense of power that had filled me drained out again, leaving me empty and shaken. I wondered if this was how Zaira felt, when the balefire left her.

Zaira. For all I knew, she was still in the coach. I started toward it, heart leaping halfway up my throat.

But Prince Ruven’s footman had already handed him in. The door with its Vaskandran crest clunked shut. The driver flicked the reins, and the horses began to move.

There was no sign of Zaira as the coach drove away.

I crossed to where it had been, staring stupidly at the empty street. Another coach pulled up to fill the space, letting off a young courtier with her hair piled high in the Loreician style, worked with fruit and flowers.

“Over here,” Zaira called.

I turned and saw her sitting on the rim of one of the six fountains. The Grace of Bounty danced with naked children in bronze behind her, water pouring from jars they carried. The skirts of Zaira’s court dress spread around her. She looked ready for a picnic, not a theft.

I approached, with some anxiety. The hands she braced on the rim of the fountain at her sides were empty.

“Did you get the book?” I asked her.

Zaira shrugged. “Well, I can’t read. So I don’t know.”

Impatience struggled in my breast like a kite trying to break free of its string. I sighed. “Did you get any book?”

“Not any book, no.” Zaira grinned, and pulled aside her skirts, displaying a corner of the leather-bound chest they covered. “To be safe, I grabbed all of them.”

I couldn’t stop myself. I grabbed her bony shoulders in a quick hug. “You’re brilliant.”

“Ugh. What are you, a dog? Get off me.” But she was smiling as she pushed me away. “And I know I’m brilliant. Took you long enough to realize it.”

Back at Ignazio’s town house, we opened the trunk. I lifted out the books one by one onto the dining room table. Marcello, who had joined us on his way back to the garrison after meeting with Lady Terringer, sorted them by apparent owner. Some had library marks on them, or bookplates from a private collection; others might have been purchased honestly. But they all had one thing in common.

“Battle Magic of Ancient Osta … Advancements in Naval Artifice …and here’s Domenic’s book.” I set Interactions of Magic, Volume One aside from the others, to return to him. “These are all books containing war magic. Recipes for death and destruction.”

Zaira whistled. “Good thing I grabbed them all, then, isn’t it?”