“They may come to regret it,” said Savine. “How things look used to be the difference between success and failure. In these times it might be the difference between life and death.”

Leo frowned at that painting of his grandfather, Lord Marshal Kroy, cramped now under a far lower ceiling. “You always loved fine things.” Meaning he’d realised now they were gone how much he’d liked them.

“I loved fine things when they said the right things about me. Fine things say the wrong thing now. And we are that much closer to the Agriont. It’s a shorter trip to the Assembly.”

He knew he should’ve been grateful. Instead, he felt faintly nettled. “I can walk.”

“I know. But it hurts you. Why walk further than you have to?”

“To prove that I can,” he grunted, gripping the handle of his crutch.

She floated over his annoyance, as usual, which, as usual, only annoyed him more. “In any case, the other house is filled.”

“Tenants?”

“Children.”

“What?”

“Have you seen how many of them are homeless in the city?” Honestly, he hadn’t. He spent all his time out of doors focused on staying upright. “Gangs of them. Orphaned, abandoned, lacking the most basic necessities. Forced to prey upon each other, to thieve, to sell themselves. Children starving on our streets.”

Leo frowned over at her. She’d shed her shapeless nursing clothes now and, despite a lack of jewels, looked mostly her sleek, sharp, ruthless old self. But then she’d serve up something like this. “So… the Darling of the Slums has opened an orphanage?”

Now she looked nettled. As if she hated thinking of herself as a philanthropist as much as he hated thinking of himself as a cripple. “They just need a chance. And we can give them one.”

“Or at least appear to.”

“Exactly.”

“Well, I suppose you’re right.”

“I usually am,” she said, which was where these conversations generally ended up.

The chair seemed to buzz under him and a moment later there was a throbbing boom, ornaments rattling on the mantle. They’d made pathetic progress at demolishing the Agriont’s mighty walls with hammer and pick, so the Assembly had voted to move into the modern age and try blowing them up with Gurkish Fire. Gravel was routinely raining out of the sky for streets around as a result.

“Fucking idiots,” he snarled at the window, grinding his crutch into the carpet.

He felt Savine’s hand on his shoulder. That calming touch, just the fingertips. “All you need to do is apologise.”

“I’m no bloody good at apologies,” wanting to shake her hand off but somehow wanting it to stay both at once.

“Apologise badly, then.”

“Why should I be the one saying sorry?” Though he knew exactly why.

“Because we need him.” Which was exactly why. “And you were a fool to push him away in the first place. If it helps, tell yourself you’re not apologising for what you did, but for being a fool.”