“There are strict rules about when you can unseal a warlock.” Balos glanced at Jerith, who shrugged his disinterest in explaining regulations. “Since a warlock’s power is so lethal, we’re only allowed to unleash them in emergencies, or if we judge the situation to be dangerous. If we have reason to believe a threat may be active in the area, for instance.”

“Like an assassin.” Jerith’s mage mark stood out silver as he trained his gaze at Zaira. “Get used to assassins.”

“Or, of course,” Balos added, “we can release our warlocks if we have orders from above to do so.”

Zaira glared at him. “You’re saying I should let the Right Honorable Spoiled Heiress here and a bunch of jewel-encrusted old carcasses decide when to use my fire, like telling a dog when it can piss. I’d rather make my own damned decisions.”

I winced at her language. “Believe me, I have no desire to make them for you.”

Balos frowned. “The Falconer doesn’t decide for the Falcon. They’re both bound by the same rules, and they make the choice together.” He spread his hands. “Most Falcons can simply ask to be released anytime, and some leave their powers unsealed by default, especially within the Mews. But because a warlock’s power is almost always deadly, there are additional levels of precautions, for everyone’s safety. You wouldn’t expect to be allowed to fire off a cannon in the middle of the Imperial Square for no reason, would you?”

“Don’t talk to me as if I were a child. It’s not unleashing my balefire without orders I’m worried about.” Zaira kicked at her chair leg. “Besides, you’re not the warlock. I’m not going to listen to this idiot.”

Anger sparked in Jerith’s eyes, and he stepped in front of Balos, almost protectively. “Oh, you’ll listen. You know why warlocks are so rare, and fire warlocks especially?”

“Shut up,” Zaira said through her teeth.

“Because they don’t have good control when they’re children.” The storm warlock wielded his words like knives, and Zaira flinched under them. “They slip, and kill someone. Maybe a lot of someones. And either some brave soul kills the young warlock before the carnage gets out of hand, because that’s the only way to stop them without a Falconer …”

“Stop.” Zaira’s voice was thick with fury. “I get it.”

Jerith continued ruthlessly. “Or no one stops them, and the poor kid is so devastated when he wakes up and sees what he’s done that he kills himself.”

Zaira stood, fists balled. For a moment, I thought she’d walk up and punch the storm warlock.

But she turned without another word and strode out of the room. The door slammed behind her.

Balos sighed and put an arm around Jerith’s shoulders. “Don’t you think that was a bit cruel?”