Marcello pushed his hair back, cradling his forehead as if he could stuff better thoughts into it. “I have to report this. We need to retreat to the garrison, send messages via the courier lamps to the doge and the Serene Envoy—though Lady Terringer is ill, so who knows if she’ll even get hers—”

“Wait.” I touched his arm to stop him. “What’s that about Lady Terringer?”

He lifted eyes dulled with despair to mine. “A note came while you were out. She’s fallen seriously ill. I don’t know the details, but apparently she couldn’t even write the note herself.”

I bit my lip. “No one mentioned she was sick this morning.”

“It was apparently quite sudden,” Marcello said.

Zaira crossed her arms. “Well, that’s an obvious poisoning if I’ve ever heard of one.”

“The timing is more than a bit suspicious,” I agreed. “Maybe Ignazio can help her. But it sounds as if we’ll have no aid from the Serene Envoy for a while.”

Marcello straightened, with grim purpose. “The situation is a disaster, but my duty is clear. I need to get you both safely to the garrison, then contact Raverra. The doge and the Council of Nine can decide what to do next.”

“Bollocks.” Zaira glared at him. “You know damned well what they’ll decide.”

“The doge and the Council aren’t bloodthirsty warmongers,” I felt obliged to point out. “They might not leap to the attack. But even if they don’t, that would leave Savony in control of the city, with easy outrage over the duke’s murder to back her against Raverra, and all her plans and tools still in place. We’d be outside the city, holed up like fugitives, looking guilty and with no way to stop her.”

Marcello spread his hands. “We can’t stay here. This town house is hardly built to withstand a siege. If we don’t leave for the garrison as soon as possible, she’ll have you arrested or killed. Then she’ll get her war for sure.”

Zaira grinned, but there was no humor in her baring of teeth. “Oh, we might hold her off for a bit. If she comes here looking for a fight, I’ll give the bitch exactly what she wants.”

Marcello shook his head. “We have to retreat to the garrison. I don’t like it, but we have no choice. I’ll send a message to the doge and … and make sure Istrella has finished her cannons.”

The despair in the sag of his shoulders struck me like a slap. Zaira at least looked ready to fight, but the gleam in her eyes was that of a cornered animal with nothing to lose. They were out of ideas and out of hope.

I supposed that left it to me.