In the hall halfway to Hetta's rooms, Dregaul caught up to her.

"You insolent brat," he spat, grabbing Emriana by the arm and jerking her so she spun around. "You would defy me at every turn, wouldn't you!" he shouted, his face growing red. He put it right down in front of hers, his eyes bulging in anger. "You and your brother were both instructed-instructed!-to leave this foolish watch business alone, and you chose to ignore those instructions."

Emriana recoiled from her uncle as flecks of spittle sprayed onto her face with every word. She cringed from him, wanting to slip away and run, but he would not let go of her arm, crushing it painfully in his grasp.

"Do you see, now, what your impertinence, your audacity-audacity!-has brought down on this family? This House?"

Emriana reached up to try to pry Dregaul's grip lose from her arm.

"Please," she pleaded, "you're hurting me."

"I'm hurting you?" he said, his voice a constricted shout. "You're hurting? How do you think my mother feels right now?"

"We didn't know," Emriana wailed, the tears flowing. "We only wanted to help. We thought we were doing something important. Something that would set things right. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry…"

"Stop that," Dregaul said, jerking her arm. "You're not a little girl anymore, remember?"

Emriana nodded, trying to calm herself, though she felt like a foolish little girl right then, a little girl who had tried to play at being grown up but who was overwhelmed with fear and self-doubt. She took a deep, shuddering breath and wiped her eyes with her free hand.

"You have to believe me. We never expected something like this," she said at last. "Honestly, we know there's something big at stake, and we're trying to work it out, but we never meant to bring any danger down on the family."

Dregaul let go of her arm then and stepped back, shaking his head.

"When are you going to learn that the most important job of any one of us in the family is the preservation of the House? You act out of some noble sense of grandeur, you and your brother, when you should be weighing every action in terms of its effects on House Matrell."

As she listened to her uncle's words, Emriana's sorrow and guilt began to transform into anger. She eyed her uncle with disdain, a look he did not fail to notice. She didn't care.

"With you, it's always the House you're worried most about, rather than the people living under its roof. Sometimes, I think you care more for the name itself than those of us who bear it."

Dregaul got a dangerous glitter in his eye then. He raised one eyebrow and asked, "And do you not think the House is more important than the individuals who are a part of it? Do you not see that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts?"

"Not when such an attitude means that everyone who is a part of that whole is reduced to misery and sadness. Do you really care that Grandmother Hetta was wounded tonight? Or are you merely concerned with the damage the attack has done to our reputation?"

Dregaul's slap was so sudden, Emriana didn't even react to it for a second or two. She merely blinked, taking a moment to register that it had, in fact, occurred. She felt her eyes grow wide, and she brought her hand up to feel her cheek.

"Don't you ever speak that way to me again," the man standing in front of Emriana said quietly, coldly. "I… will… not… tolerate it." He stared straight into her eyes, unblinking. "Do you understand me? If you ever do, I will have you beaten."

Dregaul's words shocked Emriana so completely that she didn't even react to them. She merely stared at her uncle, open-mouthed, and tried to make some sense of his threat. He would have her beaten? Beaten? Finally, she was about to ask him just who in the Nine Hells he thought he was, but he didn't give her a chance.

"Now, we're going to go back outside to your party and see if we can salvage some of the evening. You are going to walk out there with me, stand quietly by my side, and smile when I say smile," Dregaul instructed his niece. "If you so much as make one wrong face to my guests, I will have house guards take you below. Are we clear?"

Emriana considered arguing, showing Dregaul how defiant she could be, but at the mention of the house guards and "below," she knew he was serious, and he had the wherewithal to follow through with his threats. The estate had a very seldom-used prison cell in one of the basements, a dank hole with no light that had been built "just in case." She'd played down there a few times, and it had seemed innocent enough at the time, but standing there in the hall, thinking of being locked in there and waiting for her uncle to come discipline her, she shuddered.

Emriana had no one there to defend her. Vambran had run off, pursuing the intruder. Her mother would fuss, but ultimately she would not stand in Dregaul's way-she had never stood up to him in all the years since Emriana's father died, so why would the girl expect her to do it right then? And Hetta was in no condition to do anything, though Emriana was sure that, eventually, her grandmother would discover her son's actions and put a stop to them. The question was, how long would Emriana suffer her uncle's very real punishments before that happened? As those demoralizing thoughts passed through her mind, Emriana found herself clamping her mouth shut and nodding in meek agreement with Dregaul.

"Excellent," the man said. "Perhaps we'll find some usefulness to this evening, after all."

It wasn't until they were already walking out onto the balcony overlooking the party that Emriana realized Dregaul had referred to the gathering as his guests, and not hers. She was beginning to get a great sense of dread as her uncle started to speak.

"Lords and ladies," the man started, once again motioning for silence from those below. Emriana saw that the attendance had fallen off somewhat, as a few of the guests had made haste to depart. Whether for their own safety at an obviously unsecured estate, or simply to rush home and begin gossiping with their neighbors about the attempt on Hetta Matrell's life, Emriana neither knew nor cared. Most remained, though, and she supposed it was out of both courtesy and concern for her grandmother. They closed in around the balcony, murmuring among themselves, waiting for Dregaul to give them some news.

"Lords and ladies," Dregaul repeated, "I am delighted to tell you that my mother is recovering nicely"-there was a genuine cheer of happiness at those words-"and is going to be fine, thanks to some quick action on several people's parts."

The cheers turned into full-blown applause.

Emriana simply watched, feeling stone faced, even though her uncle had ordered her to smile. She simply could not.

"In addition," Dregaul continued once the uproar had died down somewhat, "House Matrell has some very exciting announcements to make. First and foremost, I would like to pass along the news that we are entering into a strategic partnership with two other Houses, beginning immediately. One of the two, House Talricci, is already tied in a familial relationship with us because, as I'm sure you all realize, my oldest nephew Evester is married to Marga Talricci. We are simply formalizing a bond that already exists."

There was more clapping, though this was more polite than genuine enthusiasm. To Emriana, it seemed that the guests were just as confused as she was as to why Dregaul would choose right then to announce such news. Numerous groups of people began whispering behind their hands to one another, occasionally shaking heads.

Sensing that he was losing his audience, Dregaul raised his voice even more as he proceeded.

"And," he said, giving a slight pause to let the crowd quiet a bit, "the third House that will be joining us in our new ventures will be House Pharaboldi-"