“Ah, what a shame. I remember the last time we met, on the docks of Ostenhorm, before your rebellion against the Crown. You could not help me then, either. That proved a rather notable mistake.”

Holding on to her smile took some effort. “Far from the only one I have made. Even so. You understand a woman must not put herself in too much debt.”

“She must take care over the partners she chooses.”

“Precisely.”

“But even more over those she turns down.” The softer he talked, the more worried she became. “A woman with secrets, especially.”

She wished she had a fan now, so she could brush him off with it. “We all have secrets, Master Sulfur.”

“We are not all bastard offspring of a king.”

Her smile crumpled. Time seemed to slow. She felt cold and burning hot at once. The foyer was an overbright whirl of faces. Keen ears. Judging eyes.

“Perhaps… you might reconsider?” Sulfur had drifted very close. “The crown has become an awful weight to carry.” The back of his hand brushed her arm. “And since King Orso has no heir, perhaps one of your children might inherit it?” His lips curled back to show sharp teeth. “Now tell me, which popped out first? The boy, or the—”

“I’ll fucking kill you!” she snarled in his face, catching his jacket in her trembling fist. “Threaten my children? I’ll see you dead!”

He looked far less surprised than she was. And only for a moment. Then he let his head drop on one side. “You really would have been my master’s first choice. But in my experience, and yours, too, I daresay, one never has to go far to find someone who will take your money. Or your secrets. Citizeness Heugen!” He brushed off her limp hand and stepped away into the crowd. “A moment of your time!”

Savine saw Selest’s eyes dart over, as keen for any trace of opportunity as her own had once been. She tried to smile, but the muscles in her face would not work the way they used to. She could not see Zuri. The blood was pulsing behind her eyes.

Her instinct was to run. To the docks. Then Angland. Styria. Distant Thond, for that matter. But she knew she was watched. She would not get far with two babies. And to run would be to admit her guilt. Of what, she hardly knew.

They would think of something.

Conspiracies

“A conspiracy typical of those that riddle Adua!” thundered Sworbreck. “Just as maggots will riddle a harvest if left unchecked!”

Orso did not doubt it was typical. In that it was a total fantasy.

Sworbreck stalked past the dock, pointing out the accused one by one, finger vibrating with righteous rage. “A banker… a miller… a baker… and a Styrian agent!”

It sounded like the start of a bad joke, but there had been little to laugh at since Judge had her predecessor tossed from the Tower of Chains. Risinau had swapped the old liars on the benches for new ones, ripped out the stained glass and turned the Lords’ Round into the Commons’ Round. Judge had installed clumsy boxes, docks, rails of rough-sawn wood, splattered the marble walls with slogans and turned it into the Court of the People. In the morning, Representatives wrestled over the details of government every bit as ineffectually as they had before. From the moment Judge flung herself into the chair where Risinau used to sit, her dirty feet propped on the High Table, court was in session and the people’s enemies should tremble.