Archigos Ana, Allesandra knew, had insisted that the painting had been ensorcelled and was responsible for Kraljica Marguerite’s sudden death. Certainly Kraljiki Audric had displayed an unhealthy relationship with the painting of his great-matarh, treating it as if the portrait were the Kraljica herself. Allesandra occasionally found herself glancing uncomfortably at the painting, installed over the mantel in the reception room of her apartments in the rebuilt palais. Marguerite always seemed to be gazing back at Allesandra, the painted highlights glistening in her eyes and an inscrutable expression of half-disgust touching her lips, as if the sight of a ca’Vorl bearing the crown and ring of the Kralji pained her.

Perhaps it did, in whatever afterlife the woman inhabited. No matter what the truth of the painting’s history might be, Allesandra found that the piece served as a reminder of what Nessantico had been under her rule, and what perhaps it might become again.

“Does it bother you, Marguerite?” she asked the painting.

There was no answer.

She finished her meal and called the domestiques de chambre to take the tray, telling them to bring a new tray with tea and scones for the a’teni. Talbot knocked again on the outer door just as the servants brought in the tea. “Enter,” Allesandra said, and Talbot stepped into view.

“A’Teni ca’Paim,” he said, bowing more formally this time. He started to step aside to allow ca’Paim to enter the room, but she pushed past him. Only Allesandra saw the roll of Talbot’s eyes

Soleil ca’Paim was a portly woman in her mid-forties, with dyed dark hair showing white at the roots and a complexion that the emerald green of her robe rendered pasty. She had the harried look of a matron with too many children-and indeed she had birthed ten children in her time-but Allesandra knew it would be a mistake to think of her as soft, ineffectual, or unintelligent; a mistake many had made during her career.