He walked away as Emris started to approach from the other end of the room. Lena closed her fingers around the butterfly, relieved to feel the filigree of its wings against her skin as she slipped it back into her pocket with a sigh. She couldn’t help it: She was curious. She did want to know how the butterfly had come to be in the crypts. It had always felt important to Lena, something that she was destined to find—her own tiny, beautiful thing in the dark, monotonous world of Duke’s Forest. Of course she wanted to know what it really meant.

“What was all that about?” Emris watched Chatham’s retreating back suspiciously.

“Nothing,” she said, grasping for an excuse. “He was just trying to get me to visit him again—but I said no.” She was surprised at the steadiness of her voice.

Emris met her eyes for a long moment, then nodded. “That was wise. He’s so keen to be friendly with you that you have to wonder exactly what it is he wants in return.” He met her eyes again, and Lena could tell she hadn’t quite convinced him with her lie. “Remember, people like Lord Chatham don’t give anything for free.”

Lena felt fear and guilt and relief battling inside her but brushed the feelings aside.

“Let’s go,” he said, his voice gentler. “I don’t know about you, but I feel like it’s been a very long night.”

The journey home by horseback over the city and under the stars, Emris’s arms encircling her, left Lena smiling and warm inside. She tried to bury her guilt about lying to him under that feeling, and—just for now—she was too tired to dwell on it anyway. Other riders surrounded them like a flock of gray birds, cloaks flying in the thin, cold wind. She watched the dark parkland roll away beneath the horses’ hooves, and ahead the glistening fountain and the busy night market around the Holy Council glowed like an enormous gemstone. The river sparkled in the moonlight, and beyond, in the commercial district, the sounds of a raucous party floated into the quiet sky.

“What happened in there?” Lena asked quietly, as they started to descend toward Faul’s temple. “How did that man become a Radical? He was independently licensed, wasn’t he—but what does that really involve?”