And I had killed his son. The thought ran through me like the wind rushing out an open airlock, and I sat half-frozen in my chair. Only the cheery crackling of the fire could be heard, strange counterpoint to the unheard roaring in my mind. Augustin Bourbon had tried to kill me. Him, and Sir Lorcan Breathnach, and the Empress herself. They had armed the assassin, Irshan, and bought Lieutenant Casdon’s loyalty, helped her to smuggle a knife-missile into my cabin aboard the Tamerlane. They had nearly succeeded, and nearly killed Valka as well. I should not feel horror, or pity. But I had killed
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