Silvy gasped, almost dropped her wine. One of the attendants clutched the back of a chair to stay upright. Medor dropped a hand to his sword, Silvy saw. He was watching de Thunier’s guards.

“You should know,” Marina went on, her voice like ice on rivers in winter now, “that I was under instructions from the queen of Ferrieres to do that on her behalf. I will happily do it again in my own name.”

Bascot de Thunier appeared to be having difficulty with his breathing. Unsurprising, really.

“I have no idea what you…What in Jad’s name…?” he managed.

“None of this deserves the name of the god,” Marina said. She’d shown no signs of this steel in the carriage. Silvy was stunned. She’d slapped the man! She wouldn’t have minded a chair to hold on to herself.

Marina snapped her fingers at one of her attendants and the woman hurried forward with an envelope, almost stumbling. Marina claimed it and extended it to de Thunier. The hand he took it with was trembling, Silvy saw.

Marina di Seressa said, “You are directed to present yourself at court as soon as you can travel to Orane. I am instructed to say that you stand at the foot of the gallows, my lord. I’d not linger on the journey east.”

“What…what am I thought to have done?” exclaimed de Thunier.

Silvy could see the red mark of the slap on his left cheek. There was a cut, as well. Marina wore a large ring on her right hand. She had removed her travelling gloves; Silvy hadn’t noticed.

“The court has been reliably informed that you sent our friend Thierry Villar from here with intent to cause him harm. Or death. Either of these things will have you ascending the scaffold—and forfeiting your family’s château and title.”

“Harm? My lady, I sent him onward with a note commending him to the attentions of the high cleric of Aurage!”

“And did you also send a separate letter there by way of a courier, my lord?”

Her voice was quiet, but lethal. And they now knew where Thierry was. It was why they’d stopped here. Gauvard had been unclear on some things, precise about others—such as a letter that had been sent, a courier. Somehow he’d known. The way his visions were, he’d said. You could not demand clarity of the half-world, he’d also said.

Silvy knew that, actually.

She was still reacting to that slap, the sound of it. She hadn’t been there when Marina di Seressa had been given that instruction. Suddenly, she wondered if it really had come from the queen.

She was so far out of her depth.