“Not at all.” He chuckled. “Though it does sound rather dramatic, doesn’t it? They’re a secret society of Ardentine aristocrats who keep posting public declarations against Raverra and calling for a return to the old days of Ardence’s independence and glory.” He shook his head. “I’m fairly sure it was their urging that prompted the duke to instigate the taxes on Raverran merchants in the first place.”

“One wonders how such a rebellious faction managed to gain enough influence with the duke to convince him to break the Serene Accords.” I knew my mother well enough to hear the silent corollary: And why you didn’t see it in time to stop it.

Ignazio, however, seemed deaf to any implicit criticism. “They were harmless enough when they just muttered against Raverra in dark corners, wearing their gray domino masks to look mysterious. But they’re bolder and more dangerous now that Ardence is facing serious economic troubles, and the duke is reaching for any solution he can get. We’re lucky he hasn’t taken out massive loans from Vaskandar, like some of his nobles have.” He sighed. “Besides, he’s easily swayed. I fear the young duke’s passions are all too simple to inflame.”

“Then let us hope they will prove as easy to cool,” my mother said.

“I could have done it, if the cursed doge hadn’t called me back.” Ignazio shook his head. “Sending a military relic like Terringer won’t help calm him down. It introduces the idea of violence first, before Ardence could come close to broaching it.”

“I believe the doge is well aware of the message he’s sending.” My mother swirled the wine in her glass.

The paradox of force. Securing the peace by the implicit threat of war. I put my glass down, my fingers numb. “They have to back down,” I said. “The duke surely isn’t foolish enough to risk his city over something as trivial as taxing merchants … is he, Uncle Ignazio?”

Ignazio considered the question, turning his glass to catch the lamplight. “No,” he said at last. “Even with the Shadow Gentry pushing him. If nothing else happens to stir up the Ardentine court against Raverra, he’ll likely back down rather than risk war.”

A grim heaviness in his tone carried the burden of terrible possibility hanging on that if.

The next day, I returned home from training with an uncooperative Zaira at the Mews and a too-brief stop at the Imperial Library to find Ciardha waiting for me in the foyer. She held herself with her usual perfect poise, my finest emerald velvet coat draped over her arm and a bottle of my elixir in her hand.

“Welcome home, Lady.” She bowed. “But I regret I must ask you to postpone your rest. La Contessa requires your presence at the Imperial Palace, to audit a strategy session.”