He could have gone back with Eleiba. He’d wanted to, even. But his people are here, so he stayed.

“Do you know where Musa of Adisa was in the fight to take Antium, Pontilius?” I say now. “At my side, bleeding for an Empire he’d never set foot in until a few months ago. Fighting for the Scholars. Tell me, General, where were you during the fighting?”

Pontilius pales. “You’ve been taken in by a handsome face—”

My blade is at his throat before he finishes. “Do not make the mistake,” I say, “of thinking I won’t slit your throat for discourteousness, old man. Everyone at this table knows I won’t hesitate.”

Pontilius swallows and, in what he no doubt thinks of as a more reasonable tone, says, “He is a Scholar—”

My punch lands with a crack across his jaw, and he topples backward, stunned. I am embarrassed for him. He’s younger than Quin. At the very least he should be able to handle a punch on his feet.

“You—” he sputters. “How dare you—”

“She could have killed you.” Pater Mettias, wan and quiet until now, speaks up. “Count yourself lucky.”

“You should remember, Pontilius”—Quin spits out the Pater’s name—“Empress Regent Livia freed the Scholars. The advisory council supported her.”

“The Empress Regent is dead.” Pontilius moves as far away from me as he can. “And now this—this woman—”

“As the people have named her Imperator Invictus, and as she is the Mater of Gens Aquilla, I move for the Blood Shrike to serve as regent,” Quin says. He’d warned me this morning that he’d make such a motion. But I did not expect it to come so soon—and I wish he had not invoked the title of Imperator.

“Until we have dealt with Keris,” the old man goes on. “Yea or nay?”

It’s not really a question, and the yea that rumbles through the room is unequivocal.

“She cannot be both Shrike and regent.” Cassius speaks up, the cretin. He and Pontilius don’t look at each other, but my sources tell me they’ve been plotting. It’s a shame I need their men. “There’s no precedent.”

“There is no precedent for a Blackcliff commandant to betray her own people to barbarian invaders, leave her capital to burn, and declare herself Empress,” I say. “There is no precedent for her to then enjoy the support of hundreds of Illustrian Paters, including yourself, despite such crimes. There’s no precedent for her to murder the rightful regent with the help of an ancient supernatural evil.” I open my hands. “But here we are. Help us or leave, Paters. It makes no difference to me. I will secure the Empire for my nephew with or without your aid, and with or without your men.”

After the meeting is over, Dex finds me. My old friend has shadows beneath his eyes. He looks like he slept about as much as I did. But he does not offer me kind words or understanding. He knows I do not want either.

“The new wet nurse is ready to meet you, Shrike,” he says, and I follow him toward the Black Guard barracks, which we’ve moved to the palace grounds. “Her name is Mariana Farrar,” Dex says. “She was recommended by Coralia Farrar. They’re cousins.”

“So she’s related to the Emperor too,” I say. “How has he been with her?”

“Much better than the last wet nurse,” Dex says. “I asked Silvius to observe too, since he’s worked with mothers and children. He had no concerns.”

“Family?”

“Husband’s a tanner. They escaped Antium with us after the siege. They’re well-known. Well-liked. They have a sixteen-month-old son. He’ll be weaned soon.”

When I enter Dex’s quarters, Mariana stands. Her Farrar blood is instantly visible—she has Marcus and Zacharias’s yellow eyes. A young man holding a child stands beside her—her husband, I presume. I can tell they want to curtsy or bow. But my armor is throwing them off.

“I am the Blood Shrike and Regent of the Emperor.” My title feels strange on my tongue, and I call on the Mask in me that I might deliver the words with no inflection. “My duty is to protect the Empire and the Emperor at all costs. You are a necessary part of a machine designed to protect him. If you harm the Emperor, what do you think I will do?”

Mariana lifts her chin, but her voice is a whisper, and she has to force herself to meet my gaze. “Kill me. As you should.”

I nod to the child and the man who holds him. “I will kill your boy, there, first. I will kill your husband. I will find everyone you love or have ever loved and I will kill them too. I will insist you watch before I throw you in prison forever, that you might live with the horror of your actions. Do you understand?”

Mariana nods frantically but I hold her gaze. “Tell me in your own words.”

“I—I understand.”

Dex and I escort her and her family out, and once they are down the hallway, I turn to him. “Four guards when she nurses, not two.” I say. “Her husband and son remain in the palace and under watch. If she so much as looks at the Emperor wrong, you let me know.”

I make for Zacharias’s room, which now connects to mine on the second level of the palace. It faces the palace garden, though he cannot see it. His window is boarded up, and despite a number of colorful lamps hanging from the ceiling, it feels less like a nursery and more like a prison cell. Likely because of Silvio Rallius and Deci Veturius, each hulking in a corner. Would that I had stationed them in Zacharias’s room before this.

In addition to the Masks, Coralia sits in a rocking chair in deepest black, her eyes puffy as she watches Tas and Zacharias playing. She rises when I enter, but I wave her back to her seat.

Tas is on the floor with my nephew, making a small wooden horse dance along his arm. I watch for a moment before the boy notices me. He stands, but I give him space and bid him sit. I know his history. Harper told me of him and Bee and the other children of Kauf.

“Shrike,” he says after a few moments, and I can tell he has worked himself up to this. “I—I owe you an apology. If I hadn’t left Zakky that night, if I’d stayed with him—”

I go to Tas and kneel down. In a corner, Coralia sniffs quietly, attempting to muffle her sobs.

“Then you’d be dead too,” I say. “Don’t you take the blame, Tas. That belongs to me, and me alone. I do have a request for you, though.”

I’ve been considering this for days—since before Livia was assassinated.

“The Emperor needs a companion. Not a regent like me, or guards like Rallius.” I nod to the big man, who observes Tas soberly. “But a friend. A brother. Someone to laugh with him and play with him and read to him, but who will also guide him and keep him safe. Someone he trusts. Someone who understands him. But that person, Tas, must be trained in battle and combat. He must be educated. Will you undertake this task?”