Caldenia raised her eyes up for a long moment. “My dear, I’m not ruled by my stomach. Right now, I’m moved by an altruistic impulse. It will be very short-lived, so you should take advantage of it while it lasts.”

She opened the box and took out a small injector with clear liquid inside it.

“What is that?” Maud asked.

“This is a vaccine synthesized from a certain bacteriophage,” Caldenia said, snapping the protective tip off the injector. “The same prokaryotic virus that our dear Marshal carries in his blood.” She turned to Arland. “I’m going to inject you with it, unless you just want to die on this table for the sins of your ancestors. Or, I suppose, in your case, for their ridiculous bravery and absurd ethical obligations.”

She raised the injector.

“No,” Arland squeezed out.

Caldenia looked at me. “He will die, Dina.”

Arland tried to rise. His whole body trembled from the effort. He collapsed back down.

“Do you trust her?” Maud asked.

“No,” I said. “She doesn’t have altruistic impulses.”

“I have finally taught you something,” Caldenia smiled, exposing her inhumanly sharp teeth.

“But I trust her survival instinct. Without Arland the inn is more vulnerable, and if the Draziri break in, they will slaughter everyone. Her Grace didn’t travel light-years across the galaxy to be murdered by some feathered religious fanatic.”

Arland lay flat, his gaze on the ceiling.

“The safety of my guests is my first priority,” I told him, gently brushing his hair off his face.

“She’s too polite to tell you,” Caldenia said. “If I were to kill you, I would be breaking my contract with Dina. The contract stipulates that the moment I kill another guest, even if I do so in self-defense, she has the right to void our agreement. I’d lose my safe haven. It would be very inconvenient for me.”

Silence stretched.

Arland looked at Maud.

“Take it,” she said. “Please.”

“Do it,” he squeezed out, his voice weak and hoarse.

Caldenia pressed the injector against a wound on his stomach and squeezed. Arland jerked and sucked in a deep breath.

“You must restrain him now,” Caldenia said. “It will sting.”

Maud clamped her hands on his wrists.

Arland screamed.

I thrust my broom over him. It split apart, binding him to the table. Maud threw herself over it, wrapping herself around him as much as she could.

Foam slid from Arland’s lips. He flailed under the restraints.

I squeezed my hands into fists. There was nothing I could do. Maud’s face was terrible, her lips a flat, bloodless slash across her face, her eyes dull as if dusted with ash.

Another convulsion… Another…

A shallow tremor.

He inhaled and lay still.

Did he die?

“Arland?” Maud called softly. “Arland?”

His eyelashes fluttered. He opened his blue eyes, looked at her, then closed them again. His chest rose and fell in an even rhythm.

She rose. I released the broom. Maud washed the blood off of him. The water ran red, then clear. The wounds stopped bleeding. That was fast. Really fast.

I pulled a clean sheet from the drawer and covered him.

“How?” I asked.

Caldenia smiled again. “Strictly speaking, that flower isn’t really a plant. It’s closer to a macrobacterium in structure, very heavily modified, of course. A pathogen affecting both plants and animals. The science of it is long and complicated. Suffice it to say that about three hundred years ago a naturally occurring variant was discovered by a group of enterprising vampires. It existed in a delicate balance, kept in check by virulent bacteriophages that preyed on it as it preyed on other life. The vampires colonized the pseudo-flower’s planet and promptly attempted to manipulate it into a weapon to destroy their enemies once and for all. They were quite successful. It wiped out all of the native life on that world.”

“It’s a thing that should never have been,” Arland said quietly. “It should be unmade.”

He spoke. He still sounded weak, but a shadow of the power that made Arland was there. Maud took his hand in hers and stroked his fingers.

“Oh I don’t know.” Her Grace waved her long, elegant fingers. “There is a savage beauty to it.”

It was beautiful, deadly, and had an indiscriminate appetite. Of course she would feel kinship with it.

“What happened?”

“Contact with the colony was lost, and the Holy Anocracy bestirred itself and sent a rescue fleet,” Caldenia said. “The first group to land consisted of volunteers, of which several were from House Krahr and House Ilun. There was a third House, wasn’t there, dear?”

“House Morr,” Arland said.

“Long story short,” Caldenia said, “two dozen beings went in, five came back, and then the fleet bombarded the planet’s moon with nuclear and kinetic projectiles, until it shattered, causing increased volcanic activity, tsunamis, and other catastrophic developments on the surface of the planet. Gravity tore the remnants of the moon into a ring, and the Anocracy’s fleet helped the resulting asteroids fall to the planet, initiating an impact winter. Nothing survived.”

“Then how did the flower get here?” I asked.

“Money.” Caldenia winked at me. “Given the right equipment, it can be contained. Prior to being killed by their own creation, the weapon makers sold samples to fund their research. I bought one. And the antidote, of course. One should never unleash a weapon if one cannot survive it.”