The tension between him and his wife became a live thing that Gaia could sense, coiled between them like an invisible snake. Genevieve gave a nearly imperceptible shake of her head, and the Protectorat pushed his coat back to prop a fist on his hip.

“I think you should see this, Mabrother,” Mabrother Iris said, gazing down at the desktop.

The Protectorat stepped nearer to the screen, and then gestured to Gaia. “Get over here.”

Across the slick surface, a row of new rectangles showed different views from security cameras. With a brush of his fingertips, Mabrother Iris expanded a dozen of the rectangles: the quad by the Tvaltar again, plus the approaches to the south gate, the paths to the six water spigots, the fields, the shoreline ridge of the unlake, and several key roads. The surveillance in Wharfton was even more pervasive than she’d realized before.

One of the rectangles went black, and only then did Gaia notice there were four other screens already dark, too. Next, two other screens went black almost simultaneously.

“Mabrother Iris,” came the voice over the speaker. “Are you seeing this?”

Mabrother Iris brushed his fingertips again, and a dozen more screens appeared showing shots of the wall, and a close-up of a guard’s face with the south gate behind him.

“I’m here,” Mabrother Iris said.

“They’re shooting out the cameras with arrows,” the guard said. “Fine shots they are, too.”

The Protectorat nodded wordlessly to Mabrother Iris.

“Take them out,” Mabrother Iris said.

There was motion as the soldiers on the wall took aim.

“No,” Gaia said. “You can’t kill them. They’re not hurting anybody.”

“Enclave security is not negotiable,” the Protectorat said. “Pick them off.”

“Yes, Mabrother,” the guard said, and stepped out of the rectangle.

“Don’t!” Gaia called.

She rapidly scanned the other screens. Her ears were primed to hear the sound of rifle shots either from the speakers or in the distance. A fraught silence stretched out for a long moment. Another one of the views went dead, and then, slowly, three more. She nearly laughed with relief. Her archers knew how to avoid exposing themselves. Despite a flurry of activity along the top of the wall where the guards were aiming their rifles, screen after screen was being eliminated until there were only three of Wharfton left, then two, and finally only one.

The last view was an angle she’d seen once before: a stretch of dry shore by the unlake, directly downhill from the south gate. The Protectorat had ordered the shooting of a raven in just that place, demonstrating the reach of his power to Gaia. Now a man and a woman were walking into the frame of the picture.

“Hold your fire,” the Protectorat said. He skimmed his fingertips over the desktop, and the rectangle enlarged to fill the screen. “See there, Genevieve. There’s your precious boy.”

Leon and his stepsister Evelyn stopped mid-screen, turning forward, and Leon raised an arm to point out the camera until Evelyn nodded to indicate she saw it, too. He had to know that he was now standing within easy range of the rifles on the wall. It was a ridiculous risk.

Gaia glanced quickly up at the Protectorat. “You wouldn’t shoot him,” she said.

“I’ll see what he has to say first.” The Protectorat was staring at the screen as if fascinated, a look of merciless concentration transforming his features into a hard mask.

Emily slipped nearer to Gaia and looked over her shoulder. Gaia shifted to allow Emily a better view and heard the soft intake of Emily’s breath. On the day the raven was shot, Emily had stood only a meter away from the bird, and Gaia guessed she was remembering it, too.

In her filmy white dress, Evelyn looked as fresh and delicate as a gardenia bloom, while Leon was still covered in the grime of the trail, unshaven and darkly strong. Evelyn casually put her arm around Leon’s waist, smiling. Leon ruffled the top of her hair and then slung an arm around her neck, rocking her in a kidding, brotherly way.

As he looked up again at the camera, his arm tightened a notch farther so that he was mock strangling her for an instant, and his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

Leon had looked that cold in Gaia’s earliest days of knowing him, and then again for a brief time after he’d been released from prison in Sylum, but she’d thought that side of him was gone. Now she was shocked at how passionlessly ruthless he appeared. If she didn’t really know him, she might think he was capable of anything.

Genevieve made a gulping noise. “Oh, Miles! I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t talk to me,” the Protectorat said.

Mikey came running into the shot, looking more gangly than he did in person. Leon took a paper out of his pocket, handed it to Mikey, and pointed toward the south gate. Then he looked back at the camera and said something to Evelyn that made her laugh. Together, brother and sister blew kisses to the camera, and then, holding hands, they descended rapidly into the unlake and vanished.

Across the desktop, the Protectorat’s gaze grew hard. “You think you’re running New Sylum?” he asked Gaia, his voice cutting. “Who’s running you?”

Leon is not running me, she thought.

“We just need water,” she said. “We just want to survive.”

“Is that your ransom for my daughter?”

“It’s just the truth.”

“I don’t bargain with animals. Tie her up and take her back to V cell,” the Protectorat ordered Marquez. “Mabrother Iris, call up the captains. We’re getting Evelyn back and eradicating the refugees. Now.”

“You can’t!” Gaia protested, her eyes darting to Mabrother Iris.

“Miles, you cannot put this girl in V cell,” Genevieve said.

“Stay out of this. It’s your fault he’s even alive,” the Protectorat said to his wife.

Genevieve clicked her nails sharply on the desktop. “I will not stay out of this. Let me remind you that I have saved your political neck more than once. They have Evelyn. Would you get that through your thick head? Where’s your diplomacy?” She gestured to Gaia. “You need to start treating this girl properly.”

“Wrong,” he said. “There’s no need to pretend any compassion for her whatsoever. We can move forward immediately, consent be damned.”

“Have you forgotten the consortium entirely?” Genevieve said.

“I am thinking of them. Rhodeski will be delighted.”

“Miles! He will not!” Genevieve said, shock and disapproval blatant in her voice.

The Protectorat controlled himself with visible effort.

“He had his hands on her,” the Protectorat said quietly.

“I know,” Genevieve said, dropping her voice, too. “I saw. It’s going to be all right. It won’t happen again.”

The Protectorat clenched his hand into a fist, and Genevieve moved slowly closer to him.

“It’ll be all right. We’ll get her back,” she added soothingly.

Leon’s move with Evelyn was a mistake. Gaia could see that. It had escalated the Protectorat’s animosity in a way that could only make things worse. She traced the fading red lines on her wrists again, and knew Marquez was hovering behind her with the strap. She glanced at Emily, who stood patiently, regarding the scene as if it hardly concerned her.

“Do you still want me to call up the captains, Mabrother?” Iris asked.

“Hold that order,” the Protectorat said. “We’ll see what his note says.”

“Should I bind her, Mabrother?” Marquez asked.

The Protectorat glanced at his wife. “Hold that, too.”

“Mabrother, you can hardly want me here,” Emily said.

“You’re excused, of course. Thank you, Masister,” the Protectorat said, and Emily slipped out without another glance at Gaia.

“What do you want from me?” Gaia asked. “Why don’t you just tell me?”

She looked from the Protectorat to Mabrother Iris, and then to Genevieve, who was regarding her husband intently. When he moved toward the desk and began talking curtly to Mabrother Iris in low tones, Genevieve turned to Gaia.

“It’s a delicate offer and we’re not going into it while Evelyn’s safety is uncertain,” Genevieve said, and then hesitated. “You won’t be forced into anything,” she added, and turned to join the others.

Gaia was far from reassured. She strode to the window to watch for the arrival of Leon’s note, and the square of the Bastion spread out below with fan patterns in the pavers. The gallows, she saw, had been disassembled and removed. White-clad people congregated near the Bastion, talking earnestly in twos and threes. More colorful groups of merchants and workers gathered farther out, naturally segregating into the hierarchy of the Enclave, like pieces on a game board. Though the adults appeared tense, children played marbles at the base of the obelisk, and a boy rode by with a basket of bread on the back of his bike, weaving sharply around a toddler with a red ball.

Beside Gaia, the piglet made a rummaging noise in its blanket. To her surprise, Mabrother Iris came to stand beside her, and she instinctively recoiled a step from him.

“I haven’t told you about my piglet,” Mabrother Iris said. “He’s the first of his kind, born to a surrogate pig mother via implantation, with a donated egg. Interesting, don’t you think?”

She declined to comment.

Mabrother Iris took a bit of potato from a cup on a shelf and tossed it into the bin. The piglet trod over to start gnawing on it, tail high. “We’ve done a number of experiments on pigs lately,” he added. “It’s safer than experimenting on humans. More humane.”

He took off his glasses and regarded her openly. His black pupils were as dilated as ever, reducing the surrounding irises to the thinnest rings of blue. Now that she was familiar with the effects of rice-flower and lily-poppy, she wondered what drug he took that changed his eyes that way.

“Did it work out for you two, for you and Leon?” Mabrother Iris asked, lifting his eyebrows slightly.

The last thing she wanted to do was talk to Mabrother Iris about her private life with Leon, and she suspected Mabrother Iris knew this. When she didn’t answer, he put his glasses on again and tossed the pig another chunk of potato.

“I would love to see his face when you tell him I had you in V cell,” he said softly. “I promised him that I’d get you there someday. I like to keep my promises.”

Gaia was goaded too far. “You disgust me.”

Mabrother Iris tsked his tongue, but he seemed pleased. “Remember,” he said lightly. “Remember who handles unpleasantness for the Protectorat.”

A soldier came running across the Square of the Bastion, skirted the base of the obelisk, and sprinted up the steps. Mabrother Iris returned to the desk. In the next minute, there was a knock on the door and the messenger stepped in. He saluted and passed over the note, then stood panting audibly beside Marquez.

Genevieve peered over the Protectorat’s arm while he broke the seal, unfolded the note, and read it.

“The rube still can’t spell,” the Protectorat said, passing the note to Genevieve. “Iris, I need a camera on the front steps now. I want you to broadcast us live to the Tvaltar.” The Protectorat pushed a button on the desktop and spoke to the guard at the south gate. “Deliver a message to Leon. Tell him to look for my response in the Tvaltar. Immediately.”

“Yes, Mabrother,” the voice answered.

“Hurry, Miles,” Genevieve said.

“What do you think I’m doing?” the Protectorat snapped.

“Let me see,” Gaia said, reaching for Leon’s note. Genevieve passed it over.

Miles,

Convince me Gaia is alive within the next five minutes or I poisin Evelyn.