And he was not entirely without protections of his own. He was never without those.

But this darkness was annoying and made it difficult for him to maneuver, and he wondered how she could manage to do so herself. He groped his way along the wall, recalling the distance from the entry to the first door, keeping one hand stretched out in front of him to let him know when he reached it.

Even so, he came up against its rough surface less ready than he had expected to be, banging his hand and scraping his knuckles against the iron hinges. Cursing softly, he felt around for the handle, grasped hold, and twisted clockwise, half expecting that it would be locked.

But the latch released and the door opened smoothly. Beyond, a large entry was lit with a single smokeless torch of the sort favored by those who commanded magic. Edinja’s talent was legendary; she far outstripped anyone else in Arishaig. She might have been marginalized on the political spectrum because of it, given that tolerance for any use of magic was severely limited in the Federation these days, save that her family was old and established and greatly feared. No one with any sense—which included himself—wanted to risk incurring the enmity of the Orle family. So until recently he had ignored her attraction to magic and been careful to stay on civil terms with her.

That state of affairs had lasted until he secured the position of Prime Minister. Now he was not at all certain how she felt or what she intended to do about him.

He crossed the entry to the door beyond, this one smaller and less forbidding. Perhaps it was the light that made it so. He paused and knocked softly.

“Come,” he heard her say from within.

He opened the door and found himself in a room draped with silks and layered with carpets and throws and pillows. It looked to be less a reception chamber than a bordello, but he brushed that thought aside quickly. Candles burned everywhere, and the sweet scent of incense filled the air. He tried not to breathe it in but could not avoid doing so.

Edinja reclined on a couch at the back of the room. She was robed and hooded, though her fine, soft features were visible in the candlelight. She wore silken slippers on her tiny feet, ribbons flowing from her long silver hair. The rings that adorned her fingers glinted softly, small flashes of silver and gold. There was an unmistakable glow about her dusky skin that suggested an inner light. She was beautiful in a sharp, angular way, though he had never looked at her himself like that, only acknowledged what others said and thought. She lived alone, unmarried and unpartnered. It was said she took lovers now and then, but no one seemed clear on who or even what they were. Not that it mattered in the least to him.