“Speaking of which, watch out for Baron Leodra at the reception. He may try to draw you into his schemes. He’s pushing hard to come down on Ardence with punitive force, which would destroy all our hopes for peace.”

“Why would he want that?” It seemed both cruel and foolish.

“As a gambit to gain him greater influence.” She exhaled her contempt for such tactics. “Right now, the doge listens to me. Leodra sees Ardence as a point of weakness for me, since my intelligence services and your Uncle Ignazio didn’t warn of Duke Bergandon’s rebellion or prevent it. Leodra has always been a proponent of greater imperial control, and he’s pushing the doge and the Council to adopt his methods instead of mine.”

My fingertips raked my ruined diagram, crumpling the paper. “That would be terrible for Ardence.”

“Don’t worry too much about it.” La Contessa’s lips spread in a feline smile. “Baron Leodra will learn his own limits shortly. Everyone has secrets, and I’ve found out his: he has a bastard son he wants to keep hidden. He’ll do what I tell him after we have a little talk at this ball.”

I couldn’t summon any enthusiasm at her triumph. “Lovely.”

She came and laid a hand on my shoulder. “Be careful at the reception. Your actions may become moves on the board. I’d rather you were a player than a piece.” Her voice and touch were surprisingly gentle. “As I said, you can’t hide in those books forever.”

She left in a swish of silk, shutting my door behind her as noiselessly as she’d opened it. I stared down at my marred design, unease spreading like spilled ink.

I couldn’t even keep Zaira from committing petty theft in the marketplace. Now I’d be responsible for her behavior at a ball with the doge himself in attendance, where one wrong move could trigger a war.

“I’m invited to a ball at the Imperial Palace?” Zaira snorted. “That’s a good one. Whose idea was that?”

“The doge’s, actually.”

Zaira didn’t so much as glance up from her seat on a third-floor balcony overlooking the lagoon. She plucked a summernut from a bowl at her side and hurled it at a gull coming in to land on the Mews pier. The bird veered off, and Zaira laughed.

“I’m not joking,” I said, vexed.

“I know that. You don’t have the sense of humor the Graces gave a fish.” She tossed another nut into the deep green water and watched the splash. “I’m sure the old bastard’s up to something. But if the food’s good, I don’t care.”