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carefully, neutrally, at an empty chair, and waited.

    The doors to the Hall of the Chimeras cried their opening like brazen lions. "Come, Felix," Malkar said, and the entire Crimson Antechamber was a silent seethe of hatred as I followed him out. As far as they were concerned, the last six years might not have happened at all.
    The atmosphere in the Hall of the Chimeras was scarcely any better. The scandal had spread like plague; I could feel the word whore following me down the hall. My eyes went automatically to Lord Michael's Chair. Stephen slumped there, bearlike as always, with Vicky standing beside him. I could see Robert's blandly good-looking face just behind her. I looked to Stephen's other side before I could stop myself. Shannon had covered the bruise on his cheek with court maquillage, but I knew it was there. Only the rituals of the Mirador, ingrained by years of repetition, kept me upright and moving, and my face was surely as stark white as the shirt Malkar had given me.
    Shannon did not look at me, and the cursory glance Stephen gave me said that Shannon had not told his brother about the evening farce's second act. Vicky was harder to read, but I thought the pin-scratch frown between her eyebrows was for Malkar—and the very fact that I couldn't be sure suggested that she didn't know what I had done, either.

    Like a clockwork dog on a short leash, I followed Malkar to his favorite place, beside the bust of a haggard, vulpine king. I wanted to break away, to go back to my habitual place on the opposite side of the hall, where Sherbourne and Vida were standing, their hurt and concern plain on their faces; I wanted to scream out the truth about Malkar, about myself. But Malkar had defeated me, and I could only stand beside him, my eyes fixed on the mosaic chimera's tail beneath my feet, and try to outwait my pain.

    I heard very little of what happened in court that morning, my mind in some dark, faraway desolation of stone and water. Voices eddied and swirled around me without penetrating. I didn't need to know; Malkar wouldn't let me care.

    Eventually, I realized that the boots and skirt hems around me were moving. I looked up and saw that Stephen had risen, dismissing the court; he was leading Vicky and Shannon, with Robert in solicitous, inevitable attendance, through the family's personal door behind the Virtu's plinth. I followed Malkar toward the bronze doors at the other end of the hall.

    Halfway there, a hand caught at my sleeve. I turned, aware of Malkar nearby, and saw Sherbourne, scared but determined; Vida was making her way toward us through the crowd.

    "Felix," he said, "what's going on? Are the things they're saying about you true? What are you doing with him ?"

    "I hardly think that's any concern of yours," I said in a hard, flippant tone—the tone I used on Shannon's multitudinous admirers—as my heart tore itself into shreds. I knew what I had to say to make Sherbourne leave me alone. "But if you want the truth"—and I smiled at him, a deliberately brilliant, horrible, mocking smile—"you bore me, darling."

    Sherbourne's crush on me had been an open secret for a year and a half. I had never breathed a word about it, never indicated by so much as a glance that I was aware of his feelings. I couldn't have chosen anything cruder to do if I'd had a week to plan in advance.

    But it worked, and by working it would protect him from Malkar's poison. Sherbourne jerked back as if I had slapped him; as Vida came up to us, I could see the storm clouds already gathering in her face. But Malkar, adroit as always at heading off potential aggravations, interrupted.

    "Come, Felix," he said. "We have much to accomplish." And he pulled me away.

    I followed him like a child going obediently to be punished.

    Mildmay

    That afternoon, out of pure, cussed curiosity, I used my lock picks to take a look inside Miss Thomson's jewelry box.

    It was a nice collection of stuff, and somebody'd picked it