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You donā€™t need me to gain access to charters any longer.ā€

ā€œWhat makes you think that? Access doesnā€™t mean anyoneā€™s going to give them to me. Besidesā€”ā€ Laughter warmed his words like brandy. ā€œIā€™ve been enjoying our partnership. Havenā€™t you?ā€

She had. But balanced against that was Sedgeā€™s bruised face, and the uncertainty about what Vargo was hiding.

Whatever it was, she stood a better chance of uncovering it if she stayed near him. ā€œPerhaps the contract can remain undamaged, then. You, on the other handā€¦ā€ She nodded past him to where Carinci Acrenix sat, eyeing Vargo like he was wearing his Night of Bells costume again.

Following Renataā€™s nod, Vargo paled. Now he looked like a man whoā€™d nearly been clawed to death by zlyzen. But he shook off his frozen dread with a cleared throat and a straightening of his cuffs. ā€œYes. Right. Remind me why I agreed to this?ā€

Without waiting for Renataā€™s answer, he headed toward Carinci, though without his previous swagger.

ā€œStudying the competition? Youā€™ve proven yourself remarkably skilled at making Nadežra dance to your tune, but that manā€¦ā€

It was Sostira Novrus. Motioning for her heir, Iascat, to hang back, she glided up to Renataā€™s side, still dressed in the silver and pearl-grey robes of Argentet.

She ought to have looked pleased. Despite Mettoreā€™s efforts to make sure House Novrus took as much damage as possible from his schemes, the feud with Indestor had ended decisively in her favor. Her expression, though, was cool and calculating.

ā€œThereā€™s no competition here, Your Elegance,ā€ Renata said, and began to step away.

But Novrusā€™s next words stopped her. ā€œDo you think any of this was an accident? Ennoblement charters donā€™t fall from the skyā€”nor are they granted out of simple gratitude. Ghiscolo and Eret Vargo have been working together toward this end for some time now.ā€ She paused just long enough for Renata to fumble for an answer, then added, ā€œAssuming this is the end.ā€

So much for enjoying the glow of success. ā€œOne might almost think you were worried, Your Elegance,ā€ Renata said. ā€œNot only about an alliance between Vargo and Acrenixā€¦ but Vargo and Traementis. Your attempt to drive a wedge between us is sadly transparent.ā€

Sostira caught her, one hard-fingered hand gripping Renataā€™s wrist so she couldnā€™t escape without making a scene. Ren almost used a river rat trick to break her grip, and never mind the scene; it would have been worth it to see the womanā€™s shock. But she held still as Sostira leaned in and spoke in a low, intense murmur.

ā€œIā€™m not going to insult your intelligence by assuming youā€™re ignorant of the manā€™s origins, and how he made his fortune. Apparently, it doesnā€™t bother you that heā€™ll kill his enemies without a second thought. Or take someoneā€™s money in exchange for planting contraband on a rivalā€™s property, and then someone elseā€™s money to blow that contraband up. Or use every secret he holds as blackmailā€”perhaps because heā€™s persuaded you that heā€™d never do such things to you.ā€

Her thin lips bent in a venomous smile. ā€œBut he will, my dear. He already has.ā€

Ren knew exactly what reaction Sostira wanted, but she couldnā€™t stop the bottom of her stomach from dropping. ā€œWhat do you mean?ā€

Sostira let go of her wrist. The hold wasnā€™t necessary anymore, and they both knew it. ā€œThat invitation to the Ceremony of the Accords. It came from him, didnā€™t it? Did you ever stop to wonder where he got it from?ā€

Trade secrets, Vargo had said. A flirtatious echo of her own comment to himā€”but heā€™d never answered properly.

ā€œMettore Indestor gave it to him,ā€ Sostira said. ā€œAnd paid him with administration of a military charter through House Coscanum. All in exchange for making certain you would be present at the Charterhouse on the Night of Bells.ā€

Ren stood mute. Every instinct told her to say something, anything, to hide that Sostiraā€™s knife had found its mark. But she couldnā€™t find any words.

Novrus made a small, pleased sound. ā€œThink about that, my dear.ā€ She patted Renata on the cheek and turned away. At a snap of her fingers, Iascat joined her, and together they glided off.

Ren began walking, too. She came to a set of stairs and climbed them, not caring whose offices she was headed toward; the hallways upstairs were mostly silent and deserted, and she needed to be alone so that no one would witness it when her mask shattered.

Vargo. Mettore. The Night of Hells.

Mettore had wanted her for his schemesā€¦ and Vargo had known it.

I suspect my association with you had something to do with it. Vargoā€™s words when he told her about the military charter with Coscanum. At the time, sheā€™d thought it was flattery.

But heā€™d sold her out.

That entire night, playing cards at Breglianā€™s. His injured kneeā€”an injury that suddenly ceased to trouble him when she told him about the missing saltpeter, but sheā€™d thought that was because concern over the danger had taken precedence. Now, in hindsight, she saw it for what it was: a performance.

All of it was a performance. The little slips that made it sound like he was covering for something. His pretense of concern for her. Heā€™d figured out that she thought he might be the Rook, and heā€™d used that to his advantage, luring her into trusting him. Playing the same game sheā€™d played with the Traementis. The whole night had been nothing but manipulationā€”not honest friendship and flirtation, but a deeper game whose existence she hadnā€™t even suspected.

Sheā€™d been so blinded by her own assumptionsā€”by her conviction that she was too good a player to be played, and her desperate wish to have someone else she could trust in her lifeā€”that sheā€™d never realized he was using her, every step of the way.

Ren staggered to a halt, breath coming too rough and fast; her fingers flexed against the cold surface of a marble column to hold herself up. Only the awareness that someone might come along let her pull herself back together.

When she did, she realized someone had.

He stood at a

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