“You’re not allowed to get him in trouble. I like him.” A savory smile curved her lips. “And he has quite a fine set of shoulders, that man. No turning him in as a traitor.”

“He’s my friend! I would never do that. Besides, he’s not a traitor.” I dropped my voice. “But his brother may be.”

Zaira cast a glance at me sideways, her dark eyes sober. “The one who’s mixed up with the group with the overly dramatic name?”

“The Shadow Gentry.” I tucked my lip between my teeth. “From what Ignazio said, they sound flat-out treasonous, and they may have ties to Vaskandar. If Domenic gets drawn in, or gets blamed for his brother’s actions … Well, I can’t let that happen.”

“No,” Zaira agreed. “We can’t.”

The space between us seemed to warm with our agreement to protect Domenic. Finally, we had something in common.

Zaira and I were due back at the Mews for a special training session Marcello had arranged. We caught him as he emerged from a drill in a crowd of other Falconers, a long flintlock rifle resting on his shoulder. We walked with him as he returned the rifle to the armory, talking with our heads together, voices low.

“We learned what Ardence thinks happened in that supposed Falconer incident.” I filled him in on the basics, without mentioning Domenic’s name.

Marcello sucked a breath through his teeth. “That explains some things. We have some new reports in through the courier lamps, but they weren’t making sense.”

“What new reports?”

He glanced around as we entered the armory. A few other Falconers who’d attended the drill deposited their rifles in the racks along the wall and left, one teasing the other about spilling his powder. Marcello waited until they were gone.

“Reports that several nobles of the Ardentine court claim Falconers took their children in the dead of night, like you said. And that Duke Astor Bergandon is demanding we return them at once, in rather forceful terms.”

“But we don’t actually have them?” I tried to sound certain, but my voice rose to shape a question despite myself.

“We most certainly don’t.” Marcello shoved his gun back into its place with unnecessary force. “That’s not how it works. It’s impossible so many children would appear with the mage mark in the same place and time, and we don’t just barge in and grab them in the night. We talk to the parents and give them time to think about it—days, usually, or even weeks, unless there’s an immediate threat to the safety of innocents.”

He flicked his eyes to Zaira, who gave him a mocking salute. “Threatening the safety of innocents, that’s me. My favorite pastime.”

“Would you know if they’d taken the children as political hostages? Normal children, without the mage mark?”