The Doge bristled, and for half a moment, Vivia saw how someone who seemed so mild-mannered might have risen to the top. A flash of heat across his eyes. A stiffening up his spine. “We lose lives in battle every day, Your Imperial Majesty. We cannot spare more lives to try to win back thrones we have no guarantee of winning.”

“In battle?” The words loosed from Vivia’s tongue before she could stop them—as did the laugh that followed. The fishpond riffled anew. “You call what your navy does ‘battle,’ Doge? You defend trade ships.”

“Against empires and raiders.” His spine hardened all the more. “We are attacked daily, and our navy does what it must.”

“To protect trade.” Vivia’s head thrust forward. “Don’t pretend to care about the war, Doge. You care only for supply chains and gold.”

And there was the heat in his eyes again. He yanked off his spectacles. “This empire has no wish to expand its borders, Your Highness. We have never tried to grow beyond what we already have—”

“Except for your markets,” Vaness cut in. Now her iron belt spiraled too. “And war must be such a lucrative time for each of your guilds. I wonder which ones profit the most in times like these? The weaponry guilds? The shipbuilding guilds?”

The Doge sneered, all veneer of welcome shed. “If you think that insulting me will improve your odds of an alliance, you are sorely mistaken. Dalmotti allies itself with winners, and you are not winners.” He spun on his heel, a gust of robes and cold dismissal, before stalking back to his desk.

And Vivia’s magic sparkled, a riptide hungry for freedom. She could shatter this glass in a heartbeat. Show the Doge exactly with whom he toyed.

“Come.” Vaness knifed through Vivia’s thoughts. Her warm hand lay over Vivia’s biceps. “He is not worth our anger.” Even as she said this, her fingers dug with barely contained ferocity into Vivia’s coat.

“No,” Vivia forced out. “No man really is.” Then she allowed Vaness to pull her around, and once more, she followed her lead: chin high, stride long, expression hard and unapproachable.

They did not speak again until they were outside the Doge’s glass walls and in the garden once more. There, Vaness paused just long enough to flash Vivia a smile—alluring, coy—and then lift her hand. “I changed my mind.”

She snapped her fingers. The iron frame around the nearest window melted. Glass shattered to the ground, a great cacophony of spraying shards. So loud, so satisfying.

“Oh my,” Vaness drawled. “What a mess that will be to clean.”

Vivia smiled.