Chapter Eighteen The Cobra’s Night of Crime

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The Cobra's Night of Crime

The boy dropped from the sky. After a moment, Marius realized he'd swung from the branches of a hawthorn tree. The boy was Marius's age, slight and dark-complected, and his face was impossibly luminous. Marius glanced around, but there was nobody behind him.

"Marius," the stranger breathed. "Lord Marius Valerius. The Last Hope."

Nobody had ever looked so pleased to see Marius before.

Torn between wariness and delight, Marius asked, "How do you know me?"

Shadow touched the stranger's face, and stayed like a mask over the sun. Years would pass. That first golden openness would not return.

"Even if I told you," the boy said, "you'd never believe me."

Time of Iron , ANONYMOUS

M arius loathed gatherings. He hated soirees, he detested salons, and he kept aloof at get-togethers. Tea parties were torment, and picnics were simply tea parties wearing blankets. Social interaction meant talking to people when he had nothing to say, and being too near people who were scared of him.

This ball was the first public occasion he'd attended since being released from the Cobra's control.

He had tentatively hoped this ball might be different.

It was different. It was much worse.

When he, Octavian, and Lucius were pages and squires, togetherness was easy. The crown prince and the young lords lived in each other's quivers, friends near to hand as his next arrow. Marius's history might be dark, but his future was bright.

Marius left for the Ivory Tower before he was made a knight. He intended never to return, but when Octavian's parents and Lucius died in the same year, Octavian asked him to come. He'd believed Octavian could still be the leader Marius dreamed of. A leader Marius could follow anywhere, because he would never lead Marius into dishonour.

Then the Cobra happened.

For a time Marius was stunned by being villainously blackmailed. As the daze dissipated, Marius realized the Cobra was deliberately keeping Marius and his king apart. He'd longed for the day he could break free.

Freedom was different than he'd imagined. The king's ministers spent a great deal of time flattering Octavian. The king's companions spent a great deal of time discussing warfare and women. Marius spent a great deal of time in awkward silence.

This ball made him yearn for awkward silence. Octavian was in a foul mood and the court desperate to distract him. Music was playing loud, crowds gathering close, and Lady Horatia had perched on an arm of the throne. Octavian cast a meaningful glance in Marius's direction when she did so, but his king couldn't be discourteous enough to ask a lady to move. Instead he whispered jokes in her ear, while Horatia giggled as if her twin was not direly ill. Marius would never believe the rumours about Octavian consorting with the ladies-in-waiting… but he could see how the rumours got started.

General Nemeth's face was grim as he tried to ignore his daughter's cavorting. Marius was politically more in sympathy with Prime Minister Pio, a sensible sort, devoted to upholding tradition, but he felt for the general.

Pio coughed. "Looks like a fine day tomorrow."

Nemeth scowled. "It is perfectly obvious it will rain!"

After a hundred assemblies Marius knew better than to comment. The commander general had once started a brawl over legislation on jewellery. Discussion of the weather might lead to a duel.

To Marius's relief, young Lord Adel asked, "Didn't you think the king's shot was flawless earlier?"

Octavian's party had been hunting firebirds among the Waiting Elms with bows in hand and flasks at their hips. Marius had touched neither bow nor flask. He could have pointed out the flame-tipped wings, their light wavering and almost transparent against the red-tinged silver of the trees. He hadn't.

"The king's shot was good," Marius said diplomatically. "Considering he drinks too much and practises too little."

Apparently that wasn't diplomatic enough.

Lord Adel's face clouded. "I'd like to see you do better. Wait, you can't. Because you took vows. How convenient."

"Yes," said Marius wearily. "I took vows."

Jangling instruments and raucous laughter were giving Marius a headache worse than any he got from reading. When he grew sick of study in the library, he could always write a letter to Caracalla.

Everybody in court believed Marius was a scholar, and he tried. He enjoyed discovering an interesting fact and hunting the fact like a fox through forests of books, making discoveries totally different from the knowledge he'd begun hunting for. But when Marius considered writing his own scholarly work, he couldn't imagine where to start.

You can turn a sword into a ploughshare, but can you turn a sword into a quill? a tutor at the Tower asked Marius. The scholars of the Ivory Tower whipped him for clumsiness in constructing sentences. The scholars whipped him for many reasons.

When Marius's head or shoulders ached with the burden of memory, he took a quill and a clean sheet of paper and began Dear Caracalla . His pen could do that much. He could make a bridge of words across the distance from him to his small sister.

He didn't know what to do now. Usually the Cobra would drag Marius off to join his loathsome coterie where Marius could think peacefully about how much he disliked his surroundings. Awkward silence never stood a chance against the Cobra.

As his mind went to the Cobra, Marius's eyes followed. Popenjoy was in the centre of his crowd, holding forth as usual.

Not as usual: who was he with? What were they wearing ?

The whole court was buzzing about the Cobra's torrid affair with the Beauty Dipped In Blood. The king finally saw Lady Rahela for the vile creature she was, but Lady Rahela had her claws in another powerful man. It was written all over her vixen's face: Lady Rahela was plotting something. It was Marius's duty to discover what.

Marius wasn't an inconspicuous individual. Two pairs of wicked eyes peered over the crimson edge of a fan, following his progress towards them. Lady Rahela's leg was hooked over the Cobra's, scandalously bared. Each had apparently attempted to put their clothes on, and missed.

The Cobra whispered something in the Beauty's ear, lowered the fan, and stared Marius down.

"Hello," said Marius.

That was the obvious conversational opener.

"Hello, my lord," returned the Golden Cobra. Everyone within earshot jerked into shocked silence. "Don't kill me."

Usually, Marius was summoned to the Cobra's side by his golden sleeve flying like a flag for a one-man country. Lady Zenobia passed Lord Fabianus the smelling salts, then mouthed an imperious " What? " in Marius's direction. The woman was intimate friends with both the Domitian and Aurellian matriarchs. She was terrifying.

All social interactions were bad. This might be the worst ever.

Marius cleared his throat. "You don't have to say that every time you see me."

"I really want you to remember it, my lord ."

The two words landed like a slap, one to each side of the face. Marius barely stopped himself from flinching.

The Cobra continued, "You're no longer obliged to associate with us. What a relief for you, not having to endure discussion of the arts. You'll be spared from attending my theatrical opening nights in future."

Lady Rahela disengaged from the Cobra.

"You write plays?" Her voice was genuinely stunned. She didn't know him at all.

The members of the salon visibly relaxed at this conversational turn.

Dignified Lady Zenobia unbent enough to make a recommendation. "You must watch a performance of his greatest work, Romeo & Juliet Overthrow the Government ."

Lady Rahela's face did something very strange. "What!"

Everybody said Lady Rahela was a vicious woman. It appeared to be true, and the Cobra appeared to like it. She smacked at his shoulder as he threw back his head and laughed. "You're insane for this!"

"I'm an artiste ," the Cobra said loftily. "Once I finish The Bone of Contention , then you will all see!"

"If you ever finish it," Lady Zenobia murmured under her breath.

The Cobra rose. "The world is watching. Let's give 'em the old razzle dazzle."

He offered his hand with a flourish. Lady Rahela accepted it, muttering, "To think my sister mocked me for learning every song in the musical by heart."

Marius had no idea what a musical might be, but he had heard Lady Lia was an accomplished harpist. That seemed graceful, appropriate, and nothing like what was happening here. Even Lady Rahela, shameless minx that she was, appeared apprehensive.

Or perhaps she was feigning nerves so the Cobra would pull her against him and breathe, "You know when crowds break into spontaneous song and dance in the course of their normal lives? People make those scenes up because they want them to be true. They want to believe art and joy can transform a moment into glory. So believe."

Rahela smiled, as most did for Lord Popenjoy. "I'll act like I do."

The Cobra attempted to lead his lady onto the floor, though the music for dancing hadn't yet commenced. Whatever they were plotting, Marius must prevent it. He placed his own body as an insuperable barrier between Popenjoy and his goal.

"I will not watch you villains put on a show."

Lady Rahela pasted a smirk on slightly trembling lips. The Cobra fired a disdainful glance under his gold-tipped eyelashes and leaned in to whisper, "Then look away, my lord. Villains are stealing the show."

Marius had endured enough. He grasped the Cobra's wrist with no fuss or overt threat, simply employing the Valerius strength that could shatter iron or stone. No flesh and blood could withstand him.

"You cannot break my hold," Marius said quietly. "You'll break your wrist if you try."

The Cobra threw him a glittering smile as if negligently tossing a coin to a servant boy. "Fine by me."

"Fine by you?" Marius repeated in disbelief.

"I want to cause a scene," the Cobra explained smoothly. "I don't particularly care how."

He had a warm inviting voice, a voice that sang a song you could dance to. Marius Valerius didn't enjoy dancing.

Baffled rage held him still. Without further ado, the Cobra wrenched away. It was pointless as a man smashing his limb down on an iron forge, shattered bones the only possible end. Meeting immovable force, the Cobra drew in a quick hurt breath.

Entirely against Marius's will, his clenched fist fell open. The Cobra swept past unscathed. Marius was left staring at his own helplessly open hand. How had the Cobra done that?

As Marius stood stricken, a minister of middle age, middle height and middling reputation approached. Instead of talking politics, he had much to say about his charming, affectionate and good-looking son, who he thought Marius might befriend. Marius was neither charming nor affectionate, and had started going grey in his teens. It didn't sound as if they had much in common, but it was touching the minister was such a proud father. Marius tried to catch the reins of his own escaping attention and follow the man's remarks.

Just as the man cut himself off to demand, "What are they doing ?"

Marius whirled around.

All the candles in the great chandelier were blown out by a sudden gust of wind indoors. A great lamp swung from an inner balcony, casting a circle of brilliant light across the gleaming black floor.

The Golden Cobra and the Beauty Dipped In Blood stood on the edge of the light, the focus of the whole room. The skirt of Lady Rahela's gown, swinging curtains of rubies and scarlet silk cut into serpent shapes, concealed nothing. The Cobra's herigaut was cloth of gold, two glittering pieces of fabric barely held together by a jewelled snake belt. Gold thread ran along the filmy white material barely containing Lady Rahela's chest, gilt on the rims of two porcelain teacups. The Cobra's herigaut was lined with scarlet. His scarlet-trimmed sleeves started at his elbows, shoulders and upper arms entirely bared. Coiling vipers that echoed Rahela's bracelet were brightly painted over his dark skin.

Each wore touches of the other's colour. The most notorious man and the most notorious woman in court were dressed as a set.

"Ladies and gentlethem." The Cobra's voice rang golden in the dark. "May we ask sympathy for the evil? Sing it if you feel it."

The Cobra's voice pealed out, the only man Marius knew who could put laughter into song. " In the end, the good guys are winners. Come the end, it's curtains for sinners ."

Rahela's scarlet lip curled as she crooned back, " In the end, it's curtains for everyone. And let's be real. Being evil is fun. "

Lady Rahela swayed from shadow to light. The Cobra moved sinuously behind her, strong hands sliding from bare shoulders to hips, and they sang together. Lady Rahela leaned against his chest. Her tapering fingers traced the sharp line of his jaw, smearing paint until her fingertips were dipped in gold. " The side of light seem so stressed. We remain relaxed and well dressed. No happy endings, but we have good times. Guilty! Of loving eyeliner and crimes."

Shocked gasps burst from the crowd as the Cobra sent Rahela spinning across the floor, her red skirts flying like tossed petals to reveal so much long leg. " Lock me up, throw away the key. Come and get chained up with me ."

Lady Rahela danced until she backed up into Lady Horatia Nemeth, then crouched, sliding up Horatia as if she were a wall. Hectic colour rushed to Lady Horatia's face, both hands flying to her mouth, as she squeaked out, "Evil!"

The Cobra tossed an amused glance over his shoulder before dropping to his knees at the feet of – the commander general's maiden aunt! The grey-haired and respectable Lady Lavinia, here to chaperon the motherless twins, stared as the Cobra kissed her palms, leaving traces of gold paint like glittering ghosts to remind her where his mouth had been. " Lord knows you're gonna regret it. Everyone knows baddies can get it. "

Lady Lavinia giggled like a giddy girl. "Evil!"

The Cobra circled Lady Zenobia and Lord Fabianus, who slapped at him and shrieked out "Evil!" and began to dance, as Lady Rahela rushed a knot of ladies-in-waiting. Both sang the same verse, turning from one person to the next. " I say sorry for everything in my death scene. While I'm alive, I stay funny and mean. Forgive me not, but if you don't he will. Ruthless, half-dressed: Kiss me, I'm evil. "

The girls, survivors of the Court of Air and Grace, started clapping and calling out, "Evil!" Next Lady Rahela prowled towards Prime Minister Pio, who ran away and hid behind the throne. She smiled, shrugged and sang: " You stay hating, I'm on a roll . Evil's like bubble bath for the soul . Sealing my fate with a Judas kiss . I'm not being subtle about this. "

As she passed the king, she blew a kiss from her scarlet mouth to her sinful fingertips, flying out to him. When he grasped for her, she whirled back to the Cobra.

Who sang, " To thine own evil self be true. Didn't expect it? That's kind of on you. "

Rahela did a handstand like a tumbler from the circus. She sprang using hands instead of feet, seeming to fly into the air. The Cobra caught her legs – he touched her ankles! – and set her on his broad shoulders. She stood on high, hand on her hip, then made an exaggerated red moue of dismay and waved at the king.

" Maybe you're the hero because you make me suffer. Maybe I'm the making of you. C'mon call me, lover. "

Rahela fell backward. The Cobra caught her. They spun and laughed and sang, until she rolled out of his arms onto her feet, expression suddenly solemn. Alone in the dark she sang, " I see what is to come, I am not a fool. It's true I'm a liar and this story is so cruel. Off with her head while the crowd rejoices. No hero to save me, I made bad though sexy choices. "

She smirked, but Princess Vasilisa called out "Evil," in firm and serious tones. Lord Fabianus took this cue to seize the princess's hand and spin her into the dance.

The Cobra sang back in a rhythmic chant, half speech half song. " Bad? I'm drawn that way, you're drawn to me. Tell on yourself when you call it villainy. Won't unpack all that. Evil? Be thou my good. Game so strong they'll say I'm misunderstood. "

Half the court was dancing, or calling out "Evil!" in a frenzy.

Fury drowned the king's previously intrigued expression as Lady Rahela grasped the Cobra's snake belt, whipping it off, spinning it over her head, then looping it around his wrists as they sang together again. The Cobra offered up his bound wrists, letting her pull him in. Lady Rahela dipped him so his hair swept the floor with a chime of bells. He smirked, upside down, as they chanted together. " Once upon a time came too late. I'd rather die than submit to my fate. Cue thunder and sinister lighting. Have you heard I go down… fighting? "

Marius didn't understand the significant pause, but the Cobra's smirk made him sure he highly disapproved of it.

"They should be arrested," announced Marius. "No. Executed."

They weren't being arrested. They were dancing in the king's direction. Octavian was engulfed in gleeful chaos as the wicked pair swung, singing, around him, making him the centre of their plot. " Call me a snake but I'm not gonna crawl. Meant to repent but not sorry at all. When I meet a bad end put it on my grave: Here lies a sinner, and a total babe. "

The Cobra confessed, " Finished from the opening line ."

Eyes on Octavian, the lady sang, " Last word's yours, this one's mine ."

The Cobra warned, " Girl, evil leads only to sorrow. "

Lady Rahela purred, " Boy, I swear I'll reform… tomorrow ."

The Beauty performed such an elaborate undulation that she would have overbalanced, if her bodyguard hadn't neatly stepped in to bear her weight and the king caught her hand. The Cobra leaned an elbow on the king's shoulder for an instant, passed a tip to the bodyguard for the assistance, and departed, breaking up the tableau.

Their strategic dancing paid off. Octavian condescended to applaud, turning the appalling spectacle into a piece of risqué fun.

Octavian's eyes were sparkling in the old way as he looked at Lady Rahela, as if she were the most exciting woman he'd ever seen. The Cobra sauntered over to the minister Marius had been conversing with, snatched his glass of champagne, and drained it in one gulp. He took another glass off a passing server's tray and drank that too.

"Sorry, very thirsty. Me and Lady Lavinia both, it appears."

Other people had private jokes with friends, Marius heard, but the Cobra only made jokes to amuse himself. Marius reached for another glass for the Cobra to drink later, as usual.

"Who's that for?" the Cobra asked. "Can't be me, since we're not friends."

Marius withdrew his hand from the tray. The Cobra's expression taunted him.

The minister was blinking at the Cobra as if he'd stared too long at the sun. "Lord Popenjoy, you disgrace the king's court as you defile the city's skyline!"

The Cobra sounded politely curious. "I thought you honoured the Golden Brothel with your patronage, Lord Zoltan."

Zoltan's face boiled to lobster hue. "Men have needs."

" Must you insult me and Lord Marius?"

Zoltan's eyes darted to Marius like rodents fleeing in terror. "Lord Marius, I would never!"

"Lord Marius is a man too. Men have needs? Spare me. Men have need of food, sleep and shelter. Calling anything else a need is frankly embarrassing. Carnal extravagance is not a necessity to resent but a luxury I enjoy."

"It's not about enjoying yourself!"

"I'm sorry for your wife and both your mistresses."

The Cobra shrugged, eyes fastening on the curve of the marble staircase. Marius followed his gaze.

"What is it now?"

"I'm not here to talk."

"Really?" asked Marius. "This is the first time you've gone anywhere to be silent."

The Cobra laughed. Since he'd approached Marius and he was laughing, perhaps he was almost done being angry. The Cobra being furious with him was an unfamiliar feeling, more uncomfortable than Marius would have expected. Marius let the corner of his mouth jerk up slightly, then turned his face away.

"Don't worry, I won't stick around," the Cobra said nonsensically. Nobody had asked him to leave. "I just want a front row seat for this. Remember the Court of Air and Grace?"

The Cobra used an odd word for the act of remembering events past. He called it a flashback . Marius had never understood until now, when memory went through him like a shudder of the mind.

"I do. Why did you try to feed yourself to a ghoul?"

The Cobra ignored Marius's reasonable question. "Did you notice Lady Lia?"

"I was marshalling our forces against the invasion of the undead."

For some reason, the Cobra beamed. Marius felt it was inappropriate to beam about the undead. "I knew you hadn't seen her. You will see her. For the first time! Tonight. You've probably imagined what she'd look like, right?"

The memory of Lady Lia's soft voice returned to him, so scared she pleaded with air and ashes.

"All I thought about was how much I wanted to help her."

The Cobra scrunched his face up in an alarming fashion. "So pure."

Marius refused to respond to comments he didn't understand. "Why isn't Lady Lia here already?"

"She's due at dramatic timing o'clock." The Cobra tapped his bare wrist once. Twice. Three times, as the music for the last song before dancing fell gradually away.

A girl appeared at the top of the stairs.

Marius recognized the gown, not the girl.

The dress was a fabric called ‘woven by air', the strands it was composed of so gossamer light and silvery pale the cloth gave the illusion of transparency. People claimed the material was woven by ghosts in the sea, made soft as water. The ladies at the salon , and Lord Fabianus, couldn't stop talking about ‘woven by air' when a shipment of the stuff came in. The fabric cost more than a house. Marius wanted his sister to have the best.

Then his mother announced they couldn't visit court this year. Marius wondered what he would do with the material, and thought of Lady Lia. If Caracalla was friendless and adrift in the court, Marius would want somebody to help her. He found a maid who needed money enough to make the dress and keep a secret.

"So that's Lady Lia," Marius murmured.

The lady looked like her voice. The voice he hadn't been able to forget.

The drapery clung to her slight form, intricate designs gleaming and disappearing like pale flowers glimpsed under water. Lady Lia's hair was a river, with lilies drifting in the gold.

Marius felt he'd finally done something right.

Zoltan said, "I also have a lovely daughter."

By unspoken mutual agreement, they were ignoring Lord Zoltan.

The Cobra asked softly, "Isn't she beautiful?"

"You're disgusting ," Marius snarled. "Have you no shame? You're ogling the sister of the woman you performed an unspeakably indecent dance with!"

The Cobra stared open-mouthed until his mouth closed and curved. "Yes, I'm a villain. Concentrate on the damsel in distress."

The glowing girl reached the last step of the grand staircase, as the music began for the first official dance.

Lady Rahela darted serpent-swift from Octavian's side. The king and Princess Vasilisa walked towards each other as if to an execution. The whole court saw Octavian lift his gaze to Lia on the last step, how her light filled his eyes… and how he turned back to the princess.

Lady Lia would be the first lady-in-waiting ever not to open her ball by dancing with the king.

Lady Lia had no bodyguard, not even a maid. She was all alone. That made her a target. Even her beauty seemed piteous because it could not win a single person to her side. Lia trembled like moonlight on rippling water, and a mocking laugh moved through the crowd.

"Someone must do something," Marius whispered.

"Yes," the Cobra murmured encouragingly in his ear.

"Could… you… dance with her? Decorously!"

The Cobra sighed. "I have to do everything myself."

He shoved Marius hard between the shoulder blades. Caught off guard, Marius stumbled. It was only a step, but it sent him over the invisible line onto the dance floor empty of all but the king, the princess, and the damsel in distress. Behind Marius, the Cobra steered Lord Zoltan away, talking about shipping. Apparently there were investments to be made at the harbour.

Marius was deserted in the middle of the dance floor. Terror descended as he realized he must make small talk. He faced Lady Lia as though she were an enemy army.

Remembering the court's laughter, he bowed as if for a queen. "Forgive me for addressing you without an introduction. I am Marius Valerius."

When he straightened, he looked a long way down. Her flower-tender face turned up to his. Though Lady Lia was tiny and delicate, she didn't look threatened.

"I know who you are, my lord. I owe you a great debt."

"You owe me nothing. I will owe you a debt if you do me the favour of dancing with me."

Marius offered a brute's hand made to wrap around a throat. She laid lily-soft fingers against his palm. Silence fell like rain around them. He'd never danced at court before. The last time he'd danced was back home with his sister's small feet balanced on his.

"I hope I still remember how to dance," he muttered.

Caracalla had laughed when spun. So had Lady Rahela with the Cobra. Perhaps all ladies liked to be spun.

So Marius spun Lady Lia, with care. She drifted over the dark floor in her diaphanous dress like a dainty cloud. Battle lived in his bones: he read bodies better than books. He knew when someone's movements might falter. He kept tight hold of her hand, steadying her when she stumbled, letting nobody suspect the lady was anything but grace itself.

Lady Lia's face was radiant as moonshine on water. "I saw you talking to your friend. It's easy to find him in a crowd. Lord Popenjoy is a perfectly lovely man."

What enchantments did the Cobra weave around women!

"He's been wonderfully kind to me ever since I came to the palace. I know you two are close, so I can tell you this: he paid off one of the cooks to make sure I was served meals like a noble."

She clearly believed Marius would be proud of the Cobra's gallant action. Instead Marius felt adrift on a sea of dread. What designs did the Cobra have on an unprotected beauty?

"You're like him," said Lia, to Marius's extreme horror. "I can't thank you enough for your kindness. This dress is impossibly beautiful. I fear it was expensive."

He shook his head. It was wrong to lie, but it was also wrong to embarrass a lady. Marius had to choose a favourite sin.

Lia's clear-eyed smile said she saw the truth. "This gown is worth more than my life. But I'm attached to my life. You saved me from execution, my lord. Thank you."

The Cobra would have known what to say. Marius did not. This was already the longest private conversation he'd had with a woman he wasn't related to in years.

"My behaviour was selfish," he told her. "I did only what I wished. I wanted to do the right thing."

Octavian and Princess Vasilisa danced past, moving with correctness so extreme they appeared like wooden puppets. Lia shied back, tripping over the hem of her gown. Marius hastily caught her in his arms, shoring her up against his chest. She weighed little more than a kitten or a bird.

"I apologize," said Marius at once.

Her voice drifted up to him, her gaze fastened on his buttons. "It's not your fault. I was taught to dance as a child. Those were happy days, but long ago. I suppose I forgot."

Her pretty, sorrowful voice brought back memories, not in a flash flood but a meandering river. His father placing a sword in his small hand, his mother singing over Caracalla's cradle. Listening to the sweet song for his sister, when he was raised on war chants. Holding the baby and learning for the first time to be gentle. Love for Marius meant going against his own nature.

Happy days, long ago.

"If you don't wish to dance, I could accompany you to the balcony for a breath of air," Marius suggested, then recalled maids and guards weren't allowed on the grand balcony, only nobles. Squires snickered about cornering ladies on the balcony for dalliance. "I beg your pardon for making such a suggestion. Let me fetch you a glass of lemonade."

"I trust you," said Lady Lia. "I'll go."

The whole world feared Marius. This girl was mistreated by the court, wronged by her own family, but ready to risk trusting a stranger. Either she had an amazingly pure heart, or she saw something in Marius that he'd never been able to see in himself.

"I fear the fireworks won't happen for some time."

"I prefer the light of the moon."

Marius smiled down at Lia. "So do I."

Upon opening the doors, they found the balcony an enclosed lake of moonlight. Lady Lia stepped out and was submerged in moonbeams, invisible for an instant. Far above the moon sailed in a cloud-soft sea.

A balcony was a sacred place, intended for contemplation of the ravine. The ballroom and the court lay behind glass doors. It was a relief to be done with the keen eyes and cruel whispers. There was nothing behind Marius that he missed.

Marius looked over his shoulder towards the Cobra. Lia was right: it was easy to find him in a crowd. He was a comet, the brightest thing leaving the night. He passed another tip to Lady Rahela's bodyguard and waltzed casually out of the ballroom doors.

The ministers complained the Cobra's lavishing of money on the staff proved he was a spendthrift who shouldn't have a voice in the country's economy. The Cobra said he hated lousy tippers. Anyone watching would see the Cobra flinging money around as usual. Nobody else would remember the Cobra had already thrown coin to the bodyguard at the end of the dance.

Even the Cobra wouldn't tip someone twice for the same thing.

Suddenly Marius thought of Lady Lia's slips, and the tumble Lady Rahela had almost taken when she was next to the king. Lady Rahela had completed many horrifying manoeuvres with athletic grace. Anyone could fall, but her convenient clumsiness didn't sit right with Marius.

The Cobra rolled his eyes behind the king's back whenever Octavian spoke, and never touched Octavian if he could help it. But he'd touched Octavian tonight, then passed something to Lady Rahela's bodyguard immediately afterward.

What did Marius's eyes tell him, with no assumptions clouding his sight?

Lady Rahela had created a scarlet diversion. The Cobra had passed an object to Lady Rahela's bodyguard.

Now either Marius had witnessed the Cobra passing something else to the bodyguard, or the bodyguard had passed an object back to the Cobra.

Something the Cobra had taken from the king.

"Deepest apologies, my lady. I must prevent a crime in progress."

" What? " exclaimed Lady Lia. Marius had already departed the balcony.

He didn't run. Running attracted attention. He cut through the crowd as if through a battlefield, moving at a relentless pace, hunting his prey down.

He made it through the ballroom doors in time to see the gold hem of a herigaut whisk around a corner, and followed. Far enough so the Cobra wouldn't be alerted to his presence. Close enough so there was no chance for the Cobra to get away.

The Cobra swaggered into the heart of the palace, headed for the throne room.

Before the Cobra reached the shining double doors, he ducked into the Room of Memory and Bone. Marius stood on the threshold, watching with disbelief as Popenjoy laid his hand on an ivory panel. The panel slid aside to reveal a circular tunnel, and the Cobra stepped inside. Marius crouched and sprang, rolling to his feet as the panel slid shut behind them. He could hear the Cobra's breathing and his fast, decisive footsteps striking the stone, but the Cobra wouldn't hear him coming.

Big as you will be, you must learn to walk soft , his father said when Marius was a child. Soft enough to steal up behind a man and cut his throat before he knows you're there.

The tunnel descended into the cliff on which the palace was built, a circle hewn into the rock tall and wide enough to fit a grown man. Who had made this, and when, and how did the Cobra know about it?

Up ahead a burning candle was set between a basin and the wall, creating a pale pool of light that wavered against the rock. Uncertain light caught on folds of gold embroidery as the Cobra began to shed his clothes.

Marius turned his back for decency's sake, then remembered the Cobra was an indecent criminal and looked around again. Underneath the herigaut, the Cobra wore battered brown leather breeches. He leaned and scooped up a jerkin in the same material and a cloth from the basin, briskly wiping gold paint off his chest and arms.

Marius rolled his eyes. The Cobra could have simply not chosen to paint himself with gold for his night of crime. He could also have left himself a shirt.

That wasn't important. Theft was important. Treason was important.

The Cobra folded up his cloth of gold, set it down on the ground in the filthy stone tunnel, and proceeded, blending with the shadows far better this time. He moved differently when dressed differently, as though he were an actor portraying two roles in a play, switching his character with his costume. Wind blew from the other end of the tunnel, a night wind carrying the smell of spices and the heavy trundle of carts.

The tunnel narrowed, curved roof shrinking down, making the Cobra duck. Marius followed his lead into the dark. Night air hit Marius, neither cold nor clean.

Marius had known the Cobra and the Beauty were up to something, but he'd never dreamed of this.

The secret passage led from the throne room to the Cauldron.

The Cobra stood at the mouth of the tunnel, silhouette outlined against the coloured lights and greasy revelry of the filthiest den of sin in Themesvar. The streets of the Cauldron were gutters teeming with outlaws. You couldn't call the Cauldron a thieves' den, because the thieves were crowded out by killers.

Marius prowled forward, soft enough to steal up behind a man and cut his throat before his prey knew he was there.

Close behind the Cobra, he murmured: "What did you steal from my king?"