“No doubt. I’m besieged by the bastards.” She slowly unfolded the letter, glanced from the writing to Orso’s face. Bloody hell, those eyes. When it came to hiding secrets, and to digging them out, he could scarcely have been further out of his league, and well knew it. “Seems Forest and his royalists want to put you back on the throne. Seems they’re in touch with your mother and sister, out in Sipani. Seems they’ve been sending you messages via your servant—”

“I take full responsibility!” he said, far too eagerly, and probably very ill-advisedly, but when Hildi’s safety was at stake the time for jokes was over. “My servant knew nothing about… any plot…”

Teufel was holding up a hand to stop him. She glared down, teeth bared, as if working herself up to some distasteful task. Orso did not care to imagine what kind of threats, blackmail or torture might give her pause. She tapped a chewed fingernail on the scarred tabletop, witness to who knew what horrors under the old regime and the new, then finally looked up at him.

When she spoke, her voice had turned oddly soft. “Forest isn’t the only one who’d like to see the monarchy restored.”

Orso had steeled himself for almost anything but that. “He isn’t?”

“No.” She considered him a moment longer. “This madness has gone on long enough. Far too long. Judge has to be stopped.” She gave a shrug of resignation, shoulders slumping. “And since no one else is doing it…”

Orso felt a wave of relief that came close to loosening his bowels. “You mean… to help me?”

“Against my much better judgement. The truth is, far as I can tell…

you’re the Union’s best chance.”

“You… think I…” And Orso felt the smile spread right across his face. A sensation he had not experienced in quite some time.

“Don’t get carried away, Your Majesty. I’m saying you’re better than carnage, famine and chaos.”

“Honestly, that’s the closest thing to praise I’ve heard in months.” And not from a source prone to compliments. Orso shuffled eagerly forwards. “What’s your plan?” She struck him as a woman who did not get out of bed without three or four strong plans in place. “I mean to say… do you have a plan?”

“Not one I like the odds on. But I can think of a few people who might be brought around to your cause. With the right encouragement. The right threats. The right bribes.”

Orso patted his trousers. “I seem to be a little light at the moment. In fact, I’ve a hell of a debt to my valet, you’d never guess what a shirt costs these days—”

“Four chairs on the Closed Council.”

Orso raised his brows. “Do you plan to drape yourself across them?”

“I plan to sell them.”

“Four chairs are a high price.”

“I’d say it’s a pretty low price, given right now you don’t have any chairs at all.”

He pushed out his lips in a pout. “I have an old box to sit on, actually. Hildi and I call it the throne. When I am feeling beneficent, she gets the corner. I was thinking once I am restored I might have it installed in the actual throne room. To keep me humble.”