He smiled at her like she was a child who had expected the closet to be full of monsters and opened it only to find her mother’s fancy dresses. “I don’t know what you’ve heard about the Virtues, but I assure you, we are not what you think.”

“I think you are holding my sister.”

“Ah… Yes, I’m afraid that is true.”

“I want her freed.”

“We both know that’s impossible.”

“But she’s innocent.”

He leaned back in his chair, hands templed as if in prayer. The leather seat creaked under his weight. “Everyone claims they are innocent. Do better.”

“What?” It was a strange thing for him to say, and she was not sure what he meant.

“Do. Better.” He enunciated each word as if she were a dolt. “Offer me a better defense.”

Celeste was quick with a knife but not nearly as quick with her words, particularly when faced with an Elect man watching her as if waiting for her to perform a carnival trick. But she felt a possibility opening before her, and she would not waste it.

“I heard the slaying was violent,” she offered. “Bloody.”

The corners of Ibrahim’s eyes tightened as if she had poked a finger into a fresh wound. “Salacious gossip. Tongues already wagging, I see.”

“Is it true?”

“It was not a gentle death,” he conceded.

“My sister is a woman of small stature. She was easily subdued by your Virtues. And yet someone held down a grown man and emasculated him. Does this sound like a crime she could commit?”

He nodded encouragingly, as if he were a law professor and she his student. It was like being in her father’s house again, and bile rose in the back of her throat, but she continued, determined to pass whatever test this was.

“And what would be her motive for something as gruesome as murder?” she continued. “She is a songstress. What business would she have with a Virtue? Whereas I am sure you truck with dangerous and powerful men, Mr. Ibrahim. Isn’t it much more likely that one of those men is responsible for this terrible crime? Have you even begun to look among your own class, or are you content to let an innocent girl who happens to be a Fallen be your scapegoat?”

As she spoke, the cadence of the Elect came back to her. Even as the words poured eloquently from her mouth, a strange horror accompanied them, as if she were watching herself at a distance. Hypatia was right, she thought to herself. I am one of them. A shiver of self-loathing lodged in her chest.

The smile Ibrahim had held fixed on his face broke into a grin. “Impressive, Miss Semyaza, although the accusation at the end was a bit dramatic. But I see you have a mind for logic.”

“You expected less of a Fallen?” she asked.

“I expected less of a woman.”