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“So had I. But I hoped—” Heloïse broke off and shook her head. “Let us listen to what he says.”

Raul took his seat, but he had no sooner done so when three men and two women approached the central circle. They paused at a signal from the guards. The chief minion, as Nadine thought of him, signaled to a lesser minion, who struck an enormous metal disk with a hammer. Nadine pressed her hands over her ears, breathless from the noise.

One man stepped forward. He was old, Nadine could see that plainly, even from this distance. Old and white haired and built like a square of marble quarried fresh from the mines. Unlike the self-important idiot of Nadine’s earlier imaginings, this old man strode forward with intent. It was Baron Eckard. She had met him just once before, at the pleasure house in Tiralien, but she knew his name from countless secret conversations she had overheard. Eckard turned and called out, in a voice that carried easily to the highest benches, “My lords and ladies, I have a petition to make.”

“To whom do you make it?” the chief steward replied in an equally loud voice.

“To the king.”

Suddenly Nadine found it difficult to breathe.

“The king is dead,” came the reply.

“Then who should follow him?”

The steward swung around to the councillors. “What say you, my lords and ladies? Do we have a king?”

A queen, Nadine thought. What about a queen?

But even while she protested this seeming blindness, she found herself gripping Heloïse’s arm.

One of the oldest councillors rose to his feet. “The king is dead, and the king’s heir as well. We must choose another.”

“Shall we ask the delegation their choice?” the steward asked.

To this point, they had all spoken as if by formula, but with this question, the councillors fell to muttering among themselves. Now Nadine could pinpoint Raul by his silence and stillness. It was all a great pretense, choreographed to make it seem as though he accepted only reluctantly. She hated him at that moment. In spite of all her bitter rai

llery, she had thought him above such petty machinations. She started to rise.

“Wait,” Heloïse whispered. “Please.”

Nadine sank back into her chair and laid a hand on her beloved’s arm. Heloïse was trembling. “Are you afraid he will refuse?”

“No. Not that. Just the opposite. And yet, if he does not…”

The other two men and women of the delegation joined Eckard. Baron Mann. She had last seen him covered in blood and slime, laughing with the edge of madness. After him came Benno and Emma Iani. Luise Ehrenalt, as well. His oldest friends, the heart of the shadow court.

“This is too much,” Heloïse murmured.

“Then he should refuse,” Nadine said.

“He … I have no idea what he might do, but I cannot watch.”

Heloïse seized her by the hand. Nadine resisted a moment longer. Raul had stood and faced off the delegation. There followed an intense debate, conducted in low tones that Nadine could not follow, and she wished in vain for the listening pipes of Kosenmark’s pleasure house.

“Wait,” she said. “Isn’t this why you came here today?”

“I was wrong,” Heloïse cried. “I cannot bear to watch. It will do no good for him, whatever he says. Please. Come with me, Nadine. Please.”

They fled down the back stairs, back through the maze of corridors. It was not until they had closed the doors of their apartment that Heloïse released a sobbing gasp. She was weeping, had been for many moments.

Nadine touched her fingers to Heloïse’s wet cheeks. “I love you.”

Heloïse wrapped a hand around Nadine’s neck and drew her into a kiss, one that lasted so long that Nadine gasped for breath when Heloïse released her. “Marry me,” Heloïse whispered. “Please. I want you. I need you. I will love you for all of this life and a hundred more to come. I promise.”

Nadine drew back in surprise. “I thought…”

“You thought wrong, my love.”

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