“My family has property,” she said. “A house and a hangar. We like to check on it now and then. It’s my turn.”

“I see,” said Giddon, then, as Quona stood abruptly, added, “Well, have a nice day.”

“You too. My staff will care for your needs,” Quona said, sweeping out of the room with two cats nestled in her arms.

Froggatt came in next, sat down, and informed Giddon that he, Barra, and Coran intended to travel to Kamassar.

“It was part of the queen’s original plan for us,” Froggatt said. “We may as well proceed. She’d hoped to establish a Monsean envoy there, in time.”

“All right,” said Giddon, who didn’t care what the advisers did, but still felt oddly sad at the fracturing of the group.

“I hope that when we return, Giddon,” said Froggatt stiffly, “it won’t be to the news that you’ve done anything that would have embarrassed the queen.”

And now Giddon was much less sorry to see Froggatt go. Bitterblue’s advisers had never wanted Giddon on this trip. They’d never, not once, understood or appreciated his value to her, nor Bitterblue’s delicate and courageous relationship with the Council.

“You mean embarrassed you,” he said, then stood and left the table, though not as dramatically as he’d have liked, given that first he had to disengage his foot gently from that pale gray cat, who seemed to find his left boot irresistible. “Sorry,” he said with his head under the table, then told Froggatt in a chilly voice, “I was apologizing to the cat, not you.” The whole exchange lacked dignity.

Mere seconds after he’d returned to his room, Hava knocked on his door.

He was still flustered. “Hello,” he said cautiously as she entered.

Hava stared at him with an implacable expression, but he knew it wasn’t her real expression. She was changing her face. He decided not to comment on it.

“I think we should go to the harbor,” she said. “See if anyone knows anything relevant about the day the Seashell went down.”

“Yes, good idea,” said Giddon. “In fact, I told Quona we were going to the harbor today.”

“Without asking me if I wanted to go to the harbor?”

“You literally just said you did.”

Hava snorted. “Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s go.”

—

As they walked along the path that led past the Cliff Farm, Giddon tried to decide what, if anything, to say to her about last night. When Hava had run at Lovisa, she’d lost not just her temper, but her judgment. It was unusual for her. Startled, Giddon had done what he did with any friend who surged off meaning to hurt someone: He’d grabbed her, held her, forced her to slow down. He would do the same thing again.