He wondered if he might have coaxed the hint of a smile from the corner of Teufel’s unbendable mouth. “You could do with some help in that regard.”

“And, let us be honest, in every other.”

“So I have your permission? To make offers?”

“Might I ask to whom?”

“Might be better if you didn’t.”

“You’ll be talking to my enemies?”

“If it works, you’ll have fewer enemies and more friends. Isn’t that what everyone wants?”

Orso sat there for a moment. He was cold. He was drained. And he suspected it would not be much longer until Judge removed him from his cage in the Court of the People and put him in the dock. He needed to trust someone and, honestly, if Victarine dan Teufel wanted to betray him, there had been golden opportunities when she had far more to gain.

“You have my permission, for this and anything else. You can speak with my full authority, such as it is. And can I say, honestly, for once, that there is no one I would rather have on my side. From the first moment I met you, I have always felt safe in your hands, Inquisitor Teufel. Or…

Inspector Teufel? Or—”

“Vick.” She pressed her fist on the tabletop, took a long breath through her nose, and let it sigh away. “If we’re going down in flames together, it might as well be on first-name terms.”

“Well, Vick. I have no doubt there is a healthy dose of self-interest in this, and an even healthier dose of common good, but on a personal note…” He leaned forwards and put his hand on hers. “I would like to thank you from the bottom of my heart for your loyalty.”

Her face gave a strange twitch at that, and she stared down at his hand on hers, jaw muscles clenched almost angrily. For the briefest moment, he had the bizarre feeling that she was about to cry. Or perhaps punch him in the face. Strange reactions, in a way, to the heartfelt thanks of one’s monarch. But in the end, all she did was give him a stiff nod and ease her hand from under his, rubbing the back of it with the other as if his touch had burned her. “We’re done here!” she yelled at the door.

By the time it swung open and Halder stomped back in, Vick did not look like a woman who had ever shed one tear. She curled her lip at Orso with immaculately acted contempt. He hoped it was acted, anyway. “Fucking idiot doesn’t know anything,” she said.

A Matter of Time

“Move over… there.” She straddled his good leg, rubbing herself against it, kissing him softly, catching his hand and sliding it up her side while at the same time she slipped her fingers under his nightshirt, started stroking him into life.

“Is this more of your charity?” he asked.

There had been a time, not so very long ago, when she would have slapped him for that. And he would have gasped at the sting of it, and with his eyes he would have asked to be slapped again. When he had been whole, and strong as a lion, and could have flung her across the room with a flick of his wrist, hurting him had felt daring, thrilling, an exhilarating gamble.