He tried to hide it under a joke, peered over May’s shoulder at the neat columns of numbers he was nowhere near understanding.

“I still say adding up debts is no way to make a living.”

She looked up from her book and smiled, and he smiled that he could make her smile, and wondered that someone who’d done all the bad he’d done could’ve had a hand in making something as good as she was. When he left them in Angland she’d been sharp, gangly, all shoulders and elbows. Her hair had grown now, and her face fleshed out. She looked like a woman, old enough to have children of her own.

“Money’s where the money is, Da. Well… that and labour relations.” She said the words with this knowing twist to her grin that made Broad go cold.

His voice came out a croak. “How d’you mean?”

“Da. I’m not a child any more. Ma might have a blind spot when it comes to you, always wanting to believe the best, but I know where your talents lie.” She put her hand over his, sitting limp now, on her shoulder, and patted the tattoo on the back of it. “I know how much Lady Savine’s paid you. I can make a guess what you do for it.”

He pulled his hand away, worked it up into his cuff as far as he could. Fine cloth, it was made of, but he could still see the stars on his scarred knuckles.

May licked her pencil and turned back to her book, all matter-of-fact, as if beatings, threats and blackmail were just a trade like any other. “And why shouldn’t you be paid what you’re worth? Everyone else takes what they can get. Someone has to put this family first.”

“What are you two talking about?” asked Liddy, coming out of the bedroom.

“Just my parents’ quaint notions,” murmured May.

“Well, there’s no shortage of work to be done. We’re servants to the Lady Regent o’ the Union, now.” Liddy brushed down the front of the fine dress she was wearing, though it was spotless anyway. “Black Rikke’s on her way to Adua, and Lady Savine wants us looking after her while she’s here.”

“Just the circles we move in now,” said May.

“Remember when we were living in a cellar?” Liddy smiled around their airy rooms. “It came out all right, Gunnar.”

It came out all right. Broad’s mouth felt dry. Wanted a drink so bad. He’d been fixed on not saying anything, but now he felt he had to be honest, blurt it all out. Burn it down like the Lords’ Round so they could somehow start fresh.

“You might hear… some things. About… what I did.” He pulled his lenses off and pressed at the sore bridge of his nose. His hand was shaking. “I was in the Court of the People. And I wasn’t on the right side of it.” Their faces were blurs. He could hardly see them. “You might hear some things… about Judge. She—”