I lose three seconds to her hip. The cant of it. The fabric pulling tight across her thigh. My hands were there in the bathhouse, gripping hard enough to make her gasp.
I want to do it again right here. In front of Caius and Renan and anyone else who wants to watch.
When I surface, Caius is studying me. Not the way Renan does, where amusement barely covers concern. This is different. He's noticed I'm wrong, and he's storing it for later.
Let him store. He'll never guess what's actually happening, because what's actually happening is insane.
"The situation," I say. "What does Coin want?"
"Stability." Caius moves to the table where a map of the districts is spread. "Senna's pushing for formal accountability measures. Incident reports. Oversight committees."
"She wants to put leashes on us."
"She wants to stop the bleeding before it becomes a hemorrhage. Five territorial disputes in the last month. Two ended in bodies. The mortals are noticing." He pauses, frowning at the map. "Do you know what would solve this? If I killed Senna. I'm not saying I should—I'm saying it would work. Mathematically. One death, no more Coin problem." He taps his temple. "I've done the calculations. Up here. I don't write them down because the ink smears."
Iowyn is by the door. Face neutral. But I can see her memorizing—the map, the positions, the tension between the words. She's learning.
I want to drag her out of this room by her hair and teach her other things. Things that have nothing to do with politics.
"Faith?" I ask.
"Order and restraint. Veritas wants explicit boundaries on each House's operations. No more grey zones, no more creative interpretations."
"He wants us caged."
"He wants predictability." Caius's jaw tightens. "After the mess with the Veran family, he's not wrong to worry. I warned him. Three times." He holds up three fingers, looks at them, adds another. "Four. There was a fourth—I was eating. Lamb, I think. Or goat." He pauses, makes a chewing motion. "No, lamb. The texture was different. Goat has more resistance when you bite down."
"Caius."
"The point is, I warned him. I said, 'Veritas, this will end in blood.' And he said, 'Not everything ends in blood.' And I said, 'Name one thing.'" He spreads his hands. "He couldn't. Because everything does. Eventually. That's not pessimism—that's logistics."
Renan's gaze slides to me. His grin sharpens. He was there when I handled the Veran situation. He enjoyed it.
"What does War want?" I ask.
"Clarity and readiness." Caius's fingers trace the border between War's territory and Coin's. "If we're going to fight, I want to know who we're fighting and why. If we're going to have peace, I want terms I can enforce."
He's tired. It shows in the set of his shoulders, the way his thumb presses into the table's edge. War has been managing this for weeks—the slow slide toward something ugly.
"Discord wants truth and responsibility," I say. "I assume that's the position you've already decided for me."
Caius's mouth twitches. "I assumed you'd want the other Houses to admit what they've been doing in the shadows."
"How well you know me."
Iowyn shifts again.
My attention goes to her. No transition. One second I'm looking at Caius, the next I'm looking at her, and the political conversation becomes static. She's not in danger. She's standing by the door, arms loose at her sides, face calm.
But Renan glanced at her when she moved.
"The Concord will be at the Neutral Hall," Caius says. "Faith is hosting. Standard rules—no weapons in the inner chamber, all parties seated before discussion begins." His hand drifts to his gladius and rests there. "I could just kill her at the Concord. During her opening remarks. Very efficient. I wouldn't even enjoy it—purely functional. Administrative killing." He tilts his head. "The best kind."
"No."
"One person. Maybe two. Three at the outside." He considers. "Four would be excessive. I have limits."
"We'll need to coordinate our positions," I say. "War and Discord have aligned interests here. Coin will try to isolate us, use Faith as a moderating influence."
