He swallowed, tears burning at the back of his nose. He found his balance again, pulled free of her, tugged his uniform straight. “I wish you’d fucking said so.”

Every grate of cutlery, every grind of crockery, every retch of conversation felt like a nail hammered into him.

Leo’s stump was on fire. He’d sparred earlier, if you could call it sparring when he lumbered squeakily about the circle while Jurand lied that he was getting better. He’d got frustrated, as usual, then he’d got angry, as usual, then he’d pushed himself far too hard, as usual. Now his back was throbbing, too, sending stings all the way up into his neck. He wasn’t getting better, he was getting worse.

He frowned down at the meat on his plate the way he’d once frowned across the Circle at Stour Nightfall. An enemy he wasn’t sure he could beat. He picked up his knife, tried to cut, but pressing gently it only slithered around in the widening pool of bloody gravy. He gritted his teeth, pressed harder, but now the whole plate slid about, slopping juice onto the polished tabletop.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “Fuck it!” He wanted to snatch his meat up and rip into the thing with his teeth. He could feel Savine’s impatience on his right. His mother’s concern on his left. He was master of the Union, and the women in his life were having to stop themselves reaching across to cut up his dinner.

“My Lord and Lady Regent…” Solumeo Shudra leaned forwards with an oily smile. “We are most honoured by your invitation.” He was the leader of the Westport delegation, a big, dark-skinned, shaven-headed man who looked more like a priest of Gurkhul than an honest fellow of the Union. The other five were of every shape and colour. It faintly disgusted Leo that he was obliged to lap up the flattery of mongrels. But Savine said they needed Westport’s money. So much to be rebuilt.

He’d always imagined absolute power meant doing whatever you pleased, but it was starting to look like one sordid compromise after another. He wished he was back in Uffrith, among the Northmen, where you could say what you meant and eat any way you fucking pleased and a missing limb or two won you admiration rather than pity.

“And we are most honoured by your attendance,” said Savine, touching Leo gently on the shoulder as if they were one person, with one set of

feelings. “We are all here to reaffirm our commitment to the Union. To reaffirm our commitment to each other.” And she smiled at Leo so warmly, so fondly, she almost had him believing it. As if love was a machine she could turn on with a lever.

“It grieves me that leaders of the same great nation should never before have met,” said Leo’s mother. “I so look forward to getting to know you all better.”

“As do we, Lady Governor Finree,” said the greasiest of the Westporters. Filio, his name was, or some such shit.