M'yu finished his plate and smiled up at them. "Thank you."

Ruslan stared, eyes wide. Dymtrus scowled at the boy, then picked up his own fork and resumed eating. "You are sending him to Washfall, aren't you?" he asked Aevryn.

"We will see when the time comes," Aevryn said evenly.

Dymtrus scoffed. "Your daughter is the only other one of eligible age to send."

"Oh, I'm sure his daughter won't fight," Xten said. "We know her infirmities keep her from participating in the Right to Sheath." He was looking past Aevryn, though, regarding M'yu. M'yu met his gaze, chin tipped up, and Xten smiled. "You know," he said, "you should come back to the Prav'sudja sometime and let me and Oluto entertain you. It takes being exposed to the finer things to get used to them, and it's evident that the Gold House is not what it once was."

"We have everything we need," Aevryn said.

"But surely you wouldn't begrudge the boy an open invitation to my home, would you?" Those baby teeth flashed Aevryn's way. "There aren't many that have that honor, especially not many of his circumstances."

A dessert course came out, and M'yu cut the pastry into tiny, invisible bites. "Then why bestow it on me, sir?"

Aevryn turned sharply, as if surprised M'yu had spoken. M'yu glanced past him at the Tsaright.

Xten grinned, eyes twinkling. "Because you seem an exceptional young man. It would be my pleasure to get to know you."

Ruslan said, "Perhaps I could escort him, sir. We could leave from school together."

Xten angled his head. "Did I invite you?"

"No, sir, I just thought—"

"Don't worry about thinking." The wrinkles around Xten's mouth deepened, turning his smile into a landscape of abysses.

Ruslan shrunk in his chair, and M'yu's gut twisted. It reminded him of the way his mother would shrink back when the Vulture first started shopping her stall—having never laid a hand on her, she knew the havoc he could wreak. "This pastry is excellent," M'yu said. It looked excellent, at least, and he was sure it was of fine quality. He just hadn't taken a bite yet.

Xten turned his gaze to M'yu, and Ruslan relaxed. "It should be," he said. "I only purchase the finest slaves after all."

M'yu's blood pounded in his ears, but he pasted a smile onto his face. His eyes flicked around the room to all the men and women hidden in serving alcoves. He hadn't really seen them the first time; they held themselves like people who didn't want to be seen: shoulders hunched, eyes downcast. They wore the platinum color of the Prav'sudja, but their clothes were ill-fit. Or fit for a different purpose. The women's dresses were sleeveless and skintight, exposing every line in their willowy frames. The men wore no shirts at all, only silver gloves and cuffs around their wrists and neck, showing off finely-tuned muscles. They were show-pieces, the garnish to the dinner. M'yu's throat burned, and he looked down at his plate, to the fluffy, exquisite pastry someone's hands had crafted in careful fear.

"Wouldn't you have been a slave if Aevryn hadn't cleared your name?" Xten asked. "It's funny how these things work out. Now you have the right to own one."

M'yu looked up at the Tsaright, eyes burning. "I have no interest in owning a person."

"No? A shame. I was planning on gifting you one." He beckoned, and one of the Tsaright's slaves opened a door. This girl wore the same demeaning outfit as the other slave women, except for two things. Platinum manacles bound her wrists behind her back, and a silver-coated rope ran across her mouth and beneath her fiery hair, gagging her. She stood tall, shoulders straight, even as two soldiers led her into the room.

"Karsya," M'yu breathed.

"You know her? How interesting. Did you meet as fellow thieves?"

Aevryn twirled a bit of the pastry's topping around his fork. "Are you slandering my apprentice, Tsaright Xten?"

"Ah, of course not. But this street-girl brought me a broken linkcard, claiming it was yours, Aevryn. And I don't know you to lose things very often. Remind me: did you ever close the case on that string of mystery linkcard thefts?"

"We assume whoever started the fire was involved," Aevryn said, popping the bite into his mouth. "And no, we never caught the arsonist."

"See, though, that's not the story she told me," Xten said. Karsya struggled against the soldiers, and M'yu's body tensed. "She came with some strange tale about your apprentice having masterminded the whole thing."

Aevryn snorted. "Criminals say all kinds of things."

"Very true. I suppose their testimony then..." Xten held his fork to the side, lips pursed. "Would you say perhaps it isn't very reliable? That, maybe"—his eyes glittered—"you can't put a man on trial based on some lesser-classman's word?"

Aevryn hesitated, and M'yu's mind flashed to the Nightsale case him and Aevryn were building. Xten's gaze cut to M'yu. "What do you think? Should we trust a criminal's word, Mykta? Do you think she's telling the truth?"

Karsya spoke vehemently, but the gag muffled all her words. One soldier cuffed her ear. She fell still, wincing. M'yu just stared, not comprehending. Why would she bring Aevryn's card, broken or not, to the one person they both hated most in the world?

Aevryn tried to speak, but Xten silenced him with a hand. "The boy is in Scrollschool, growing up to be a smart man of the law like the rest of us. Let him speak."

M'yu swallowed dust and drew a breath. Tearing his eyes away from Karsya, he said, "I suppose it depends on if she's compromised or not. A statement is the strongest when the person saying it has something to lose—not gain."

Xten nodded, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "You've been paying attention in your classes, I see. Well, young lawyer, tell me: what do you think I should do with her?"

"He hasn't had a law class yet," Aevryn protested.

"And yet he answered the last question just fine. He knows the girl; it's only kind to let him decide her fate."

Karsya moaned, eyes pleading with M'yu. A little bit of blood trickled down her ear. Her hair fell in messy waves around her left jaw. He searched her face; they used to be able to read each other so well. What was she saying now?

She trembled, eyes dropping, head shaking in small motions. Forgive me, it begged, and an icy knife cut through M'yu's gut. She thought he'd turned his back on her, and she'd done the same in turn.

"Well, boy?" Xten said.

M'yu met the Tsaright's gaze, trying to bring the world into focus. "If it's my name she slandered, then I should have been given first pick of her at the market."

The Tsaright chuckled. "I thought you didn't want to own a person."

"I didn't understand why the system was the way it is." He shrugged, the simple motion belying every trembling muscle in his body. "I do now."

"Owning a slave requires a purchase. What do you have to give?"

None of M'yu's worldly possessions meant a thing to the Tsaright. There might be some money on Ruslan's linkcard, but with as much spotlight as there was on M'yu now, he'd never use it for a purchase without getting caught.

But he was a z'Daras now. M'yu lifted his chin. "A tenth of my inheritance."

"Liquid," Aevryn interjected, shooting M'yu a look.

Dymtrus laughed. "What do you own besides that house, Aevryn?"

"A tenth of my liquid inheritance," M'yu corrected, locking eyes with the Tsaright.

Xten stroked his chin. "Dymtrus is right. Your House isn't worth particularly much, Mykta. And promises of future payment are worth even less."

M'yu shrugged, picking one of the gold flakes off the pastry with his fork. "I'm fairly sure this dessert costs more than she does."

Muffled protests came from Karsya, and Oluto laughed.

"Be as that may," Xten said, raising a hand, "could you afford to eat it? If it weren't for my hospitality?" He shook his head. "I think not."

He turned a soft smile on Aevryn. "Your House is falling and everyone knows it. When Washfall comes, you will send the boy to the trial because you have no one else to go. He seems to have a head for law, so he might pass the Right to Speak. He's smart, so you could train him to pass the Right to Serve. But you know as well as I do that the nobles who will go to the Trial have been training their whole life for battle. There is only one way your House will pass the Right to Sheath, and I think we both know you don't want that for him."

Aevryn's knuckles whitened around the stem of his glass. "What do you want?"

Xten pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and slid it to Aevryn. "Only what is best for all of us. Dissolve your House, renounce your two titles—both hereditary and earned—and join in with me. I would take good care of both you and your young apprentice."

Aevryn stared at the contract.

"With my money, you could give him the life he deserves. And your daughter too," Xten crooned. "The best doctors, the best treatments. She could rejoin society. Please. Let me help you. You can't even afford to buy him the little slave girl he wants."

M'yu's hands curled and uncurled in his lap while Karsya shook between the two soldiers. M'yu shrugged his shoulders and leaned back in his chair. "I didn't want her that badly."

And it was true, even if the act wasn't. He didn't want her so badly that he was willing to give up everything they were working toward. And she wouldn't want that either—not back when they were on the streets at least. They would have given anything, would have died, to see the rule of the Caps come crumbling down. If Aevryn gave up his House now, if he dropped the case against the Tsaright, if he left behind the title of rightful ruler of the city—

Then they were back where they started, shaking their fists against a sky that was never going to change.

Aevryn pushed the paper back at the Tsaright. "I appreciate the offer, but I think I will have to decline at this time. In fact, it's getting late, and I should be getting Mykta to bed. Doctor's orders," he apologized with a smile. He stood, and so did Dymtrus and Ruslan. "Come along."

Aevryn bowed to the Tsaright, then turned. M'yu stood, but Karsya caught his eyes and he froze. Hate flared there, hotter than he'd ever seen, even back when she used to talk about her time in the Magnate's house. With a tiny shake of his head, he thumbed the necklace under his shirt and begged her to understand. Up with the innocent.

"A pleasure, sir," he said to the Tsaright, bowing with a hand still against his necklace. Down with the powerful. Then he turned and followed Aevryn out of the room. They walked in staccato silence, steps rapping against the metal floor. The hover waited for them back through the labyrinth of halls, and retrieving their coats, they climbed in. Aevryn quickly tapped out their destination on the console, and the vehicle whirred away, glass dark.

"What," Aevryn clipped, "was that?"

M'yu froze at the intensity in Aevryn's voice.

"You said," Aevryn continued, "that girl wouldn't be a problem. You promised me. Do you remember that?"

"I never thought she would be."

"Well, next time, think harder because she about cost us everything and still could!" Aevryn raked a hand down his face.

"And what would you have done if I'd said she was trouble? Prosecute her?"

"I don't know, but now the Tsaright might prosecute you!"

M'yu tucked his hands under his arms. "We're going to save her, right?"

"That's what you're thinking about right now?"

M'yu swallowed.

Aevryn sighed. "I am sorry about your friend."

"We'll save her," M'yu said, more confidently this time.

Aevryn leaned back into his seat, eyes closed.

M'yu's gaze dropped to the console, tracking their way down the mountain. "What did the Tsaright mean about the way to win the Trial?" M'yu rubbed his hand down his leg. "The way he said you wouldn't want."

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you," Aevryn said.

Icy tingles froze down M'yu's spine, and he shook his head. "And what is it you want me for?" His voice trembled a bit. "You keep managing somehow not to tell me."

"I've told you what I want you for. You're my student, my heir."

"So it is to go to Washfall Trial."

"Not exactly—"

"Why do they think they have you cornered?" M'yu demanded.

"Because you're not ready!" Aevryn exploded. "Because the last two people who have competed in my House haven't come out whole. Because Scrollschool students call the Right to Sheath 'the Right to Die.'" Aevryn leaned back, shaking. He ran a hand through his hair, gaze haunted. "It wasn't meant to be like this," he muttered.

"You know I survived on the streets, right? I can make it."

"Not in three months." Aevryn's voice was hoarse. "You were right about Washfall, M'yu. I've studied the Tsar's charts. It's coming. Soon."

"If winning Washfall is what it takes to save everyone, then I'll win."

"Just like you won your duel with Ruslan?" Aevryn turned a sharp eye on M'yu. "I saw the foil-tip marks on your skin, boy. I know why you threw that sword."

"I'll do whatever it takes! I'm not scared."

"You should be," Aevryn muttered. "Xten is right. The House is falling. It's been falling for the last twenty years."

"Then we'll pick it up again! You can't seriously be telling me that you're quitting."

Aevryn rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I don't know what to do. I don't know what I've been thinking we could do. We could win the case against the Tsaright, M'yu, and still lose the Trial, lose our House. And you want me to toss you in the ring and see if we lose you too?"

"Wasn't that what you wanted before the Tsaright rattled your bones?" M'yu's hands shot out.

"It's more complicated than that, boy—"

"No, I'll tell you what's complicated." M'yu stood up, hand braced against a window. "What's complicated is growing up thinking there is no way out. Thinking you're stuck here forever, thinking that you're lucky you have crumbs on your table. What's complicated is getting thrown on the streets with nothing but the clothes on your back and no way up, nowhere to sleep, freezing in the alleys in the winter. You think you're going to die, but you don't because you figure something out. You don't have it all planned out, but you march forward. And no capping politician is going to stop us from doing that."

M'yu's breaths came hard. The hover took a turn, and he slipped into a seat. Aevryn watched him from across the way. "You have fire," he said softly. "That's good. It'll get you somewhere."

"It'll get us where we need to go."

"It can only get you so far."

"It got me this far!" M'yu shook his head. "You keep telling me I don't get it, but I'm telling you, you don't get it. I'm not giving up. And if you say that this thing isn't going to work out, that you can't beat the Tsaright, or that I can't, or whatever, then I'll carve a different path. I already had one carved out when I met you—I have one, literally in my pocket, because I'm not stopping. No matter what it takes. I'm not stopping until my people are out of the Gloam and out from underneath the Caps' shiny-shoed heels."

Aevryn leaned forward. "You have what in your pocket?"

"A backup plan. And one I'll rotting-sure take if you're not willing to make this go all the way."

"Is that a threat, boy?"

"Why would I threaten you? You've done nothing but protect me. But you can't protect me now. You say Washfall is in three months? Good. That means we have three months to train."

"These people have been training their whole lives."

"Do I have to beat them all?"

Aevryn's head cocked. "No. No, you're right." Aevryn's finger shook. "If I can take the Tsaright's place..." He leaned down, tugging out the Nightsale information M'yu had written down for him. "If we can use this to track those thefts back to the Tsaright, we can call him to court. A single guilty verdict takes away his right to rule, and then his second-in-charge will be promoted to his place."

"You," M'yu said.

"Till Washfall at least. The trial will come and everyone will have to earn their place back—everyone except for us."

M'yu's nose scrunched up. "What are you talking about?"

"My title, the title Xten tried to get me to sign away tonight. I'm prince, by birth and by right. If I ever earn the position of Tsaright, then all I have to do is keep it. In a normal Trial, everyone fights for placement, even the top placement, but if we were in Trial, M'yu, and our House already had the top—" Aevryn's eyes glittered. "All you would have to do is survive."

"Survive I can do."

Aevryn nodded, a smile ticking up the corner of his lips. "Then let's get you back home." He shook the papers. "I have some leads to chase down."