My hand twitches toward my sleeve again. I make myself stop.
"Coin's estate," Renan says finally. "Tonight?"
"Yes."
The word comes out before I decide to say it. My hand is on the window frame. Knuckles white.
Somewhere in that gilded prison, a mortal woman with blood on her mouth is learning what it means to be owned by someone who isn't me.
"You know this is going to cause problems," Renan says from behind me. "War between Houses. Concord violations. Faith clutching their pearls."
"Yes."
"And you don't care."
"How many guards?" My voice doesn't sound right.
"Twelve on rotation. Four at the main entrance. Daiven keeps two in the east wing where he houses his... acquisitions."
"One hour," I say. "Get Kira. Tell her we're paying Coin a visit."
Renan's grin is sharp. "With what reasoning?"
"I don't need a fucking reason." I turn from the window. "I'm the Mad God. I do what I want."
The handlers don't let go of my arms until we're corridors away from the Concord chamber.
My mouth tastes like copper. Blood from where Lord Coin's ring split my lip, pooling against my teeth. I swallow it because spitting seems like the thing that gets you hit again, and I've already met my quota for today.
The marble walls blur past. Left turn. Right turn. Stairs down. I'm counting—habit, not hope. Fourteen steps to the first landing. Twenty-two to the second. Three guards at the door. Two more flanking the exit. Not that it matters. I'm not running anywhere.
My father is somewhere behind us. I heard his footsteps in the chamber, that shuffle he does when he's nervous. Hedidn't say anything when they grabbed me. Didn't look at me when Lord Coin's hand connected with my face.
Seris tried. I caught the movement in my peripheral—her hand lifting, reaching toward me before someone pulled her back. Our father, probably. Can't have the spare daughter causing a scene.
Don't think about her. Don't.
The handlers shove me through a side door and into bright afternoon light. Arkenhold spreads out ahead of us, all that gleaming architecture built on divine bones. People turn to stare as we pass. A woman in Coin's colors. A merchant who quickly looks away. A child who points before his mother yanks his arm down.
I'm a spectacle now. The Solyne girl who got sold to pay her father's debts. They'll be talking about it in every market square by nightfall.
Let them talk.
At least someone's getting entertainment value out of my shit life.
My lip throbs. I run my tongue over the split and taste fresh blood. The bruises on my arms are already darkening—I can feel them without looking, that ache of pressure held too long. The handlers haven't loosened their grip since we left the chamber.
The god's face keeps surfacing. Silver-white eyes. That stillness before he stood, the way the whole chamber contracted around him. The very obvious—
No. Not thinking about that either.
He stood up. That's the part my brain won't release. Lord Coin hit me and a god stood up. Not to help—gods don't help mortals, that's not how any of this works. But he stood, and the room changed, and for one stupid second I thought—
Nothing. I thought nothing. I'm smarter than that.
We turn onto the main thoroughfare. Coin's estate rises at the end of the street, white stone and gold trim catching the afternoon sun.
Pretty.
