Lady Placida nodded slowly, one hand toying idly with the single, long braid of her scarlet-auburn hair. “If the vord come at us the way Invidia says they will, we won’t be able to hurt them for it. We’ll miss the opportunity.”

“But we’ll know she’s telling the truth about something,” Amara said. “We’ve lost nothing. And no matter what happens, we’ve gained one piece of what I judge to be reasonably reliable information.”

“We know my sister and Araris are alive,” Bernard rumbled.

Lady Placida’s eyes widened. “You think Isana is behind this?”

“I think it is one possibility,” Amara said. “But the story about Isana saving Araris from garic poisoning was widely told. If Invidia thinks that Isana could potentially save her from the poisoning as she did Araris, she might well plot to betray the vord. She is determined and very intelligent.”

“Would Isana do such a thing?” Lady Placida asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Amara said. “All that matters is that Invidia believes she can. Whatever the truth, it would appear that Invidia thinks she may have been cast a lifeline.”

Lord Antillus managed to fit a profound portion of skepticism into his grunt.

“I know,” Amara said. “She’s a schemer. But it’s possible that she thinks she can scheme her way out of this situation the way she’s done so many other times. If that is the case—if she’s telling us the truth about the next attack,” Amara said, “then she’s probably telling us the truth about taking us to the vord Queen.”

She frowned. “And there’s one other thing. Something she may have genuinely let slip. She said that the Princeps would shortly be of no concern to anyone—and she wasn’t talking about Attis.”

The room suddenly became utterly silent. The air thrummed with brittle tension.

“I think Octavian is close,” Amara said.

“If Invidia or the Queen attacks him, he’s as good as dead,” Phrygius said. “He’s had his full abilities for what? A year at the most? With no formal training? There’s no way he could have learned enough technique to apply them. And how many others could he possibly have with him, given that he landed in Antillus… a week ago, give or take? How many Knights Aeris were in the First Aleran?”

“Twenty-six,” Placida said quietly. “And your sons, Raucus.”

Raucus said nothing, but his expression was bleak.

“He must be trying to make it through to us,” Phrygius said. “A small, fast-moving group for immediate protection, maybe flying under veils, if he’s good enough to do that. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

Placida nodded. “And if they’re talking about taking him down, then he’s probably close enough for the Queen to attack.”

“No,” Bernard said in a quiet, firm voice. “She’s close enough for him to attack her, Your Grace.”

“If the Queen is beyond Invidia, she’s beyond Octavian,” Phrygius said. “Simple as that. He’s barely more than a boy.”

“He shut down the plans of Invidia and Attis when he was a boy,” Bernard growled, his eyes on Phrygius’s. “I doubt he’s planning on facing her in a wrestling ring or a dueling hall. You’d be a fool to dismiss him, Your Grace.”

Phrygius narrowed his eyes, and his beard bristled.

Raucus put a hand on his shoulder. “Easy, Gun. Don’t make more of that than what he said. What if I’d spoken of your son that way, huh?”

Lord Phrygius was stiff for a moment more, then inclined his head toward Bernard. “He’s your blood. I didn’t think before I spoke. Please excuse me.”

Bernard nodded.

“Stay focused,” Lady Placida said. “We can’t know what to do about Octavian until we find him, or he makes contact. It’s possible that he wants it that way. We can’t know if Invidia is going to betray us at the last moment. But. Assuming that she appears to be telling us the truth… the only question is whether or not we pit ourselves against her knowing that it could be a trap, and we could be walking to our deaths. For that matter, even if she is sincere, we might still die.”

Raucus exhaled slowly. “Maybe we should bring Forcia, Attica, and Riva.”

Cereus shook his head. “They’ve never been fighters, I’m afraid. In a close-quarters fight, they’d be more dangerous to us than to the vord.”

“It’s up to us,” Lord Placida said quietly. “And I don’t think we’re going to get a better chance. I don’t think we have a choice, even if it is a trap. I’m in.”

His wife intertwined her fingers with his, silently.

Cereus rose, with either his armor or his bones creaking.

Phrygius eyed Raucus, and said, “Maybe I’ll finally get to see you get knocked on your ass.”

“When we get back, you and I are going to have a talk in which you lose your teeth,” Antillus replied. “Because I’m going to knock them out of your head. With my fists.”

“I think we all understood what you meant at the end of your first sentence, dolt.”

“Boys, boys,” Aria said, her voice warm. “It doesn’t matter unless she’s telling the truth about the next attack, in any case. Until then, we’re not changing any plans, yes?”

“Correct,” Bernard said. “We lie low and wait. We’ll meet again in Garrison and talk about the next step after we see what happens. If she’s telling the truth, we’ll know it in about three hours.”

The meeting broke up. The High Lords went back out to their positions on the wall, leaving Amara and Bernard alone in the room.

Bernard watched her with calm green eyes for several seconds before he said, “What were you holding back?”

“What makes you think I was holding anything back, love?” Amara asked.

He shrugged. “Know you too well, I suppose.” He tilted his head, frowning, then nodded slowly. “You talked a lot about the vord’s next attack. Kept their focus on it. So it’s going to happen later.” He furrowed his brow in thought. “Invidia’s going to betray us at the hive.”

“Yes,” Amara said quietly. “She is.”

Bernard inhaled slowly. “What are we going to do about it?”

The room, Amara thought, felt positively cavernous without the presence of the High Lords there. She bowed her head and closed her eyes and tried not to think too hard about what she had to do. “We,” she whispered, “are going to let her.”

Tavi awakened smoothly, naturally, and free of pain. He was floating in a tub of warm water, his head and shoulders supported on an inclined board. He was naked. His toes poked out of the water at the far end of the tub. He lifted his head, which was an effort. There was an angry red puckering of his skin over his belly, to the left of his navel, where the vord Queen’s weapon had stabbed him. Little, angry veins of red spread out from the injury.

Tavi looked blearily around him. A healer’s tent. One of the ones that hadn’t been destroyed, obviously. Furylamps lit it. So he’d been unconscious for hours, but not many of them. Unless it had been more than a day.

He hated being unconscious. It always interrupted everything he had planned.

He turned his head to the left, and found the tub beside him occupied. Maximus lay in it. He looked awful, though that was mostly bruises beneath the skin of his shoulders, neck, face, head… There seemed very little of his friend that was not bruised, in fact. And his nose had been broken—again. His eyes were closed, but he was breathing.

Tavi leaned up a little and eyed the next tub over. Crassus occupied it, in the same condition he and Maximus enjoyed. The young Tribune stirred, though he looked like he felt even worse than Tavi did.

“Crassus,” Tavi rasped.

Though he blinked his eyes open, the young man was still clearly in pain. He looked at Tavi and lifted his chin very slightly in acknowledgment.

“Crassus,” Tavi croaked. His throat felt dry. It hurt to talk. “Report.”