Zaira made a gagging noise. “Stop, before you make yourself a liar.” She looked me up and down, as if assessing how little a cheap vase was worth. “You did try to stand up to Orthys’s lot for me. I don’t owe you anything, but in return for your good intentions, I’ll tell you mine.”

Zaira stepped in close, her voice dropping to a hiss. “Here’s what I intend, Lady Jailer: the minute you release me, the very second you drop this stupid binding, I am going to burn my way out of here. And if anyone gets in my way, I’ll burn down the whole cursed Mews if I have to. Do you understand?”

“You make yourself quite clear, yes.”

“Good.” Zaira smiled. “Then call your watchdog. I think we’re through.”

Verdi sighed. “I suppose it was too much to hope she’d warm to you.”

“It’s hard to imagine her warming to anyone, unless you count setting them on fire.”

I sat on a bench in the Mews garden. Lieutenant Verdi perched on the head of a stone lion, a rueful smile on his lips. Honeyfruit bushes surrounded us, teasing the air with their delicious scent. The muffled calls of a formation drill in another courtyard belied the peace of the scene.

“I’m sorry for wasting your time, my lady.”

“She didn’t give me a chance.” I ripped a leaf from an inoffensive bush. “The worst part is, she has a point. Zaira’s going to be trapped here most of the time in a way other Falcons aren’t, whose Falconers have no duties but to follow them around and keep them safe. And it’ll get worse when I ascend to the Council of Nine.”

Verdi spread his palm and examined it, as if he might read instructions there. After a moment he said, with exquisite care, “You could try living in the Mews. For a few days a week, at least. We really aren’t such terrible company.”

I shook my head. “It’s not possible. The quality of the company isn’t the issue, I assure you. I can’t do anything that places me under your colonel’s command, even symbolically. Which includes living in the Mews.”

His hands flexed on his knees. “So you’re telling me you can’t do anything to so much as imply you take your duty as a Falconer as seriously as your duty as your mother’s heir.”

“Yes.”

“I see.” His shoulders tightened with frustration. For a moment I thought he would shout at me. But then he let out a long sigh, anger descending into disappointment. “That makes matters difficult, my lady.”

I’d rather he’d shouted. The taste of guilt soured my mouth. “I’m sorry.”