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I should have seen that coming.

‘In that case,’ I said, drawing in a deep breath, ‘would you mind terribly if we ignored etiquette for a bit and moved straight on to the blunt questions? I’d be more than happy to leave the game for what it is and just get right to the point, if it’s all the same to you.’

She laughed. ‘Ah, points. I’m very fond of those. It truly is a shame so few politicians seem to agree with me.’

‘Thankfully I have no ambitions whatsoever to make a name in politics,’ I said, unable to keep down a grin. ‘It makes many things in life significantly easier. So, as a first question: if you don’t mind me asking, what exactly are we doing here?’

‘Besides moving in the direction of tea and cinnamon biscuits, you mean?’ she said, looking entertained rather than hopeful about the deflection.

‘As much as I would appreciate good tea and cinnamon biscuits,’ I said, ‘somehow it seems unlikely that you broke centuries of city laws and risked getting involved in a, frankly, deeply unpleasant war just to have a drink with me. So I assume there’s something else you’re looking for. I would like to know what it is.’

‘Excellent.’ She seemed to mean it, smile sliding off her face but eyes bright with the eager delight of a woman confronted with an interesting challenge to tackle. ‘In short, before considering any formal proposals regarding a cooperation between your Alliance and the city, the consulate wants to have a clearer impression of whether you are the sort of person whose proposals we should be welcoming at all. So it has been agreed that I would first have a word with you to better understand where you stand on certain issues that have been, let’s say, reason for doubt among the better-informed citizenry, and that we will continue to more concrete negotiations if and only if we feel there is any use in doing so.’

She rattled off the words so easily, so openly – a woman used to matters of policy and strategy, and more than a little skilled at finding the right twists and turns of phrase. Was she speaking the truth? It sounded like itcouldbe the truth, but then again, she would be capable of making a lie sound just as believable.

And there was no proper reason this first exploration could not have taken place through written correspondence. Even less reason for her to have so much faith in my harmless intent, if the city government was apparently not even convinced I could be trusted to enter any civilised negotiation.

‘I see,’ I said.

‘Yes,’ she said, raising a quick hand to greet a guardsman strolling past. ‘I thought you would.’

Honest flattery, or all part of the same smoke screen? I decided it didn’t really matter for the next step of this conversation.

‘So what are these reasons for doubt you’re alluding to?’

‘Oh, there are several,’ she dryly informed me. ‘Your apparent connection, or friendship or whatever it may be, with Creon Hytherion, just to name one.’

It took me a moment or two to figure out what part of that question did not fit the rest of the conversation.

Creon Hytherion.

Notthe Silent Death, like every other human I’d ever heard referring to him. And she had pronounced that fae title so easily, her accent so fluent; she had to know the language rather well. Was that common, for people to speak Faerie in this most fae-less part of the world?

‘You call him by his name,’ I said slowly, well-aware I was not answering her question.

‘What? Oh, yes.’ She shrugged. ‘There’s enough nonsense making the rounds about individuals like him. I’m not inclined to add to the mythology by turning him into some faceless nightmare – if I must be frightened, I’d rather be frightened of a person.’

Good gods.

Had anyone –anyone, even in the Underground – ever so effortlessly grasped the concept of Creon as a real living being with a real beating heart in his chest? Lyn, probably. Naxi, if I ignored the fact that she seemed to consider the matter a fun game half of the time.

Apart from them …

Consul Rosalind of the White City, of all people.

‘Of course,’ she added before I could regroup my wits and send them back into battle, ‘you don’t appear to be that frightened of him at all, from what I’ve heard.’

It was an uncharacteristically unsubtle request for more information, that question – an optimistic invitation to tell her exactly what my relationship to Creon Hytherion encompassed. Would a woman like her really be that transparent? I felt like she was spinning the conversation around me, a clever thread here, an innocent question there, and I wouldn’t notice where she was truly going until she started tightening the net around me.

‘I would say,’ I said, choosing my words with painstaking care, ‘that it’s generally rather useful to have some frightening allies on our side.’

The unfulfilled quirk of her lips told me that was not the answer she had been hoping for. But she merely pointed to an alley on our left, pursed her lips, and said, ‘Would you say your father falls into that category, too?’

I shrugged. ‘Agenor is powerful enough, but I’m not sure I’d call him frightening.’

‘He’s been on the Mother’s side for a while, though,’ she retorted – without even a moment of pause, as if this was a part of the conversation she’d prepared well in advance. ‘That in itself seems to be an ominous sign, wouldn’t you say?’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t dare to claim he’s not an idiot,’ I said, and that elicited an unexpected chuckle from her. ‘But I’m fully sure that he no longer supports the Mother or the fae empire in general and hasn’t done so in my lifetime.’