“What an appropriate word choice.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Terminated. Get me out, then get me killed, which is precisely what Sathrik sent you here to do.”

“I don’t work for Sathrik.” Imala hissed the name like something she found sticking to the bottom of her boot.

“You’re not working both sides of the family? Come, now, Imala. That would be a first for the secret service. Though wait—let me guess. You’ve gone into business for yourself. So how much are you thinking you can collect for my head? Anything less than three thousand in imperial gold and you’ve been robbed, and we wouldn’t want that. Wasn’t that the price on my head? Or has it increased?”

“No one has paid or will pay me anything for any part of you, least of all your apparently empty head. The person who I represent is interested in all of you. Intact. Alive and breathing—and thinking.”

“And on behalf of all of me, I refuse.”

“Without hearing his offer? For the last time, I am trying to keep you alive, you pigheaded ass!”

“The farther away I am from anyone with the last name Mal’Salin, or from anyone who works for a Mal’Salin, the longer my life expectancy will be—without your assistance.”

“Don’t be so sure about that.”

“Is that a threat?”

“That’s me telling you that the lines are being drawn in Regor, and when sides have been chosen, you and your son should be certain that you’re on the right one.”

Tam’s voice was lined with steel. “Leave Talon out of this.”

“You’re the one who hasn’t left him out of this,” Imala retorted. “Instead of hiding him for his own safety, you’ve publicly acknowledged him, given him your name, made him your heir, and put him in more danger than even you can protect him from. I heard and saw what he did last night, and so did a few of those Nightshades.”

“And a few of your men.”

“My men are trustworthy.”

“So you’re certain that every last one of them is unwaveringly loyal to you? Would never betray your vaunted trust? Never slit that pretty little throat of yours if given half the chance?”

“Pretty little throat?” That caught her off guard.

“I have working eyes, Imala. But more important, I have working ears. Never mention my son’s name again.”

“After last night’s little display, I won’t need to because everyone else will. And you have an umi’atsu bond with Raine Benares and are linked in some way to Mychael Eiliesor. You have become a very desirable commodity among our elite—people you don’t want desiring any part of you or your son.”

“Khrynsani,” Tam hissed.

Her words were fire voice. “I have never, nor will I ever, refer to those jackals as elite anything. Complete extermination cannot come too soon.” She paused and then laughed. “Though that explosion a few hours ago certainly diminished their numbers. I shall have to discover who was responsible for that delightful display of pyrotechnics and thank them. Unfortunately, it seems that the ultimate prize escaped. A coach was seen racing from the scene. A coach driven by a Khrynsani. I imagine Sarad and Janos were inside.”

Tam hissed a single obscenity in Goblin.

“For once I share your opinion, and sincerely wish our clever arsonist better luck in the future.”

“Have you found Sevelien?” Tam asked.

“Not a trace. What’s left of the house is still too hot to search, and the elves have it cordoned off, ostensibly waiting until they can get in to look for him.” Imala actually snorted. “He’s not there and they know it. They’re going through the motions, nothing more. My bet is that he was in that coach, taken by Sarad Nukpana, or somehow the crafty fox managed to escape.”

“And blew up his own house?”

“Entirely possible. Markus always had an exquisite sense of irony.” Her voice turned grim. “And I hope he still does. He is a brilliant tactician and a charming opponent. I’ve enjoyed sparring with him in the past. Only now we find ourselves with a similar goal.” She paused. “Odd, isn’t it? Me, a goblin, wanting to keep an elven duke alive, and his own people wanting nothing more than to find him dead. These are indeed strange times.”

“And Imala Kalis wanting to protect me is even more strange.”

“Someone has to, because you seem to have little interest in protecting yourself. From the reports I’ve received, you’ve done everything in the past few months short of putting your own neck in a noose.”

“I’ve done what I’ve had to do.”

“I’m doing the same thing now—if you will rein in your innate stubbornness long enough to consider my offer.”

“Imala, I can’t do what you ask.”

Her next words came out on the barest breath. “Even if Sathrik were no longer king.”

“The changing of a king won’t change the court—or the way the court is run.”

“But it can.” The silence was thick and tense. “Your people need you, Tam.”

“And what about my dear extended family who say they need my head?”

“Leave them to me.”

“What are you going to do, poison the entire municipal water supply?”

“If I have to.”

“Why are you trusting me with this?”

“If you hadn’t left the court, Sathrik would have killed you.”

Tam laughed, a contemptuous sound. “Sathrik would have tried.”

“Success or failure wouldn’t change the fact that he never liked you; he certainly never trusted you.”

“He murdered his own mother, who was also my queen, a queen I was sworn to serve.”

“Then serve her now, Tam. Yes, she is dead, but what she stood for and believed in is not—at least not yet.”

I didn’t know if Sedge’s office was dusty or I still had smoke up my nose from blowing up Markus’s house, but I did something very bad.

I sneezed. Loudly.

Then just to make sure everyone in headquarters heard, my nose decided to do it again. Even louder.

“Crap,” I muttered.

The wall vibrated as the cabinet was shoved away from the hole in the wall. Tam’s face appeared at eye level with me. He was not amused; actually, he looked rather pissed.

“And how long have you been here?”

I hoisted my mug. “About half a cup’s worth.”

“I’m here, too, Tam,” Mychael said.

“Dammit.” Tam blew out his breath to keep from saying something worse.

“Tam, I’d like to speak with Director Kalis,” Mychael told him. “May we come over?”

The lady’s face appeared next to Tam’s. She’d probably been up all night like the rest of us and she was still cute. “We’d be delighted, Paladin Eiliesor.”

Tam rolled his eyes and muttered something not so nice under his breath.

“Do ignore him,” she said. “He gets this way whenever he spends the night in jail.”

Mychael passed his hand over the opening in the wall, murmured a few words, and the hole in the wall turned into a wall with no hole.

Sedge Rinker just lost his peephole.

Mychael didn’t want anyone listening in on the four of us.

A few minutes later Mychael and I came into the conference room with a watcher right behind us bearing gifts—a tray laden with coffee and pastries. Leave it to watchers to know where to get great coffee and pastries. That should take Tam from pissed to pacified.

Mychael poured a cup and passed it to Imala Kalis.

“Thank you, Paladin.”

“Mychael.”

She flashed a smile, complete with that increasingly famous dimple. “Imala.”

Tam muttered something else.

“Oh here,” I said, pushing a coffee and pastry at him. “Eat this and put us out of your misery.”

He glared, but he ate.

“You okay?” I asked.

He growled around a bite of pastry.

I took that as a yes. Note to self: Tam is not a morning person.

Imala was looking at Mychael and me with a quizzical look on her face; a moment later quizzical turned to slyly knowing.

“Pardon my bluntness, Mychael and Miss Benares. But the two of you smell of smoke—and Nebian black powder.”