This accursed party feels like it’s lasted a month.

Florette had apparently seen no issue with drinking even further, growing sloppy enough in her movements that it seemed doubtful she could avoid slipping and revealing something crucial, let alone gather any actual information.

Even now, she was demonstrating her stupid knife game to the girl bent on capturing them, slowly and deliberately plunging her knife between both of their fingers, layered on top of each other over the cheap wooden table.

Sir Gerald had recused himself, at least, opting to spend the night enchanting Simon’s sister Mary in a blessedly distant corner of the clifftop.

“So you see it too, between them.” Simon’s voice caused Camille to turn her head, only to see a vaguely disgusted expression on his face. “Mary’s never much been one for politics or academic study, but… it feels wrong. They’re so synchronized in their stupidity that it seems almost incestuous.”

Or fitting. “She’s your little sister. Of course you aren’t going to love seeing her cavort with that moronic lout. But she’ll outgrow him, I’m sure.”

Mary was curtsying now, giving Sir Gerald a hand to kiss. The knight bent down in turn, something on his belt catching the moonlight.

Camille froze, staring at the offending object.

“From your lips to the ears of the earth,” Simon muttered. “If the day’s fair, she’ll push him off that cliff and save us all some trouble.”

“Exactly,” Camille said absentmindedly, her focus elsewhere.

“Nifty thing, this handheld cannon. Magnifico called it a pistol.”

It was hard to tell at this distance, but the shape was identical. There were even red spots stained with blood.

My blood.

Clearly Lumière had found a useful idiot to dispose of his incriminating, one-of-a-kind weapon, but why? Fouchand was dead, as was—so far as the world knew—Camille. According to Simon, he was planning to usher in Avalon troops as soon as Annette’s trial was over. What point was there in secreting his weapon away, let alone giving it to an imbecile?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the feel of Simon’s hand on her shoulder. “Come now, there’s no need to quiver like that. Mary may be half a fool, but she can make her own decisions.”

Camille blinked. “Of course. My apologies. It simply dredged up bad memories.”

Simon laughed. “You mean to tell me that the ever-discerning Lady Carrine was perhaps once in possession of lower standards? That’s hard to imagine.”

Fine, that’s an acceptable enough cover. “We are all young, at one point. I’d prefer not to speak of it.”

“Of course, my apologies. The thought of my sister with… it doesn’t exactly fill me with joy either.”

“Perhaps I can speak with her,” Camille said, seeing another opportunity for ingratiation. “One woman to another, with the wisdom of experience.”

Simon smiled. “That’s a wonderful idea! Best save it for another day, though. She’s not liable to remember anything you tell her, this late in the night.”

Camille’s eyes narrowed. “And yet you’re leaving her alone with him?”

“I—” He looked guilty, shifting his weight between each foot. “Sir Gerald may be less intelligent than the slug I scraped off my shoe this morning, but he is nonetheless a knight. He understands what it is to be gentlemanly.”

“I don’t think—”

Simon held up a finger. “I’ve seen this before. Gary’s never done anything untoward. But we’ll be sure to take her home with us when we leave, all the same. Satisfied?”

When we leave? “I suppose. She’s your sister; you know them both better than I do.” Camille frowned. “Just be sure to keep an eye on her; make sure she doesn’t depart before us.”

“Of course!” Simon insisted a touch too fast. “Why don’t we change the subject? Captain Whitbey!”

Perimont’s monstrous creature turned his head away from the cliffside to face them. “Master Simon?”

“Please don’t address me like that in company, Joseph.” Simon let out a slow hiss of air. “I’m twenty-two years old. ‘Master’ makes me sound like I’m seven.”

Saying that isn’t much better.

Whitbey didn’t even blink. “Of course, sir. What is it you wanted of me?”

“I was hoping you could regale the fair lady with one of your stories, help get her mind off unpleasant topics.” He wants you to pull his foot out of his mouth, he means. “News of the upcoming offensive, perhaps.”

Yes, have him tell me more of his atrocities against my people. Brilliantly done, Simon.

He was lucky Camille was manipulating him, because a sincere lady in her position would have departed long ago, probably after throwing her drink in his face.

“There’s not much to say,” Whitbey noted coldly. “All the less in unvetted company. Prince Harold has told the Governor of an upcoming offensive. All else must remain confidential. If you are sincerely curious, we can discuss it later, when certain to be among friends.”

“Do you even have any friends?” Florette barged in, a hint of slurring in her voice. “I bet it’s hard to win people over if you always open by talking about killing children.”

You imbecile. Camille’s eyes narrowed, ready to burn a hole in her. “What my companion means to say is—”

“Is that someone here could stand to learn a bit of tact!”

Camille grabbed her wrist tightly. “She’s had too much to drink tonight. That’s all.”

“The fuck I have! It’s a party, for fuck’s sake. Everyone else here realizes that. Except Captain Childkiller here, standing all dour on the edge of the cliff.”

“Time to get you home, Celine,” Camille hissed.

Simon, mercifully, was doubled over laughing. ”You’ve got a good one there, Carrine.”

Whitbey sported an impressive scowl, but made no moves to react. “I’m not here to partake in the merriment, young lady. Lord Perimont wished for me to keep an eye on his children, and especially given my invitation, it seemed warranted. There’s no such thing as being too on-guard, as he is fond of saying.”

“Except when I ask you something and you don’t answer!” Simon called out, still shaking with laughter. “Come on! We’re among friends. I’d wager anything we’ll be acting against the Condorcet Collective. They’re small, weak, and horrendous as any practitioner of human sacrifice. Probably worse than most of them, honestly.”

No arguments there. Mother had once said that half the Condorcet were mad, the other suicidal. Given their absurd system of governance, it was hard to disagree. “What makes you so sure? The connection to Prince Luce’s kidnapping is tenuous, if it’s even there at all.”

Simon shrugged. “The pirates Baron Williams executed were from so many different places anyway. One of them is bound to have some tie to it, or can be shown to at least. More importantly, it allows Prince Harold a fast, relatively bloodless victory without plunging the continent into full-scale war. He can avenge his brother and sate the Harpies’ appetite for war with no need to mobilize further. It’s the smart play.”

By your reckoning, perhaps. If Prince Harold’s love for his brother were half what it was said to be, he wouldn’t stop until every trace of Luce’s abductors were eradicated.

“Your father disagrees.” Whitbey shook his head. “The smart play is always to better arm yourself against the world’s threats. The denizens of this wretched city will learn that soon enough when they’re fighting on our side.”

Wait, what? “Who among them would possibly agree to that?” The Malins here had proven frustratingly complacent, but surely even they wouldn’t stoop to fighting Avalon’s wars for them.

Whitbey cracked the slightest of smiles. “The benefit of conscription is that they don’t have to. They’ve suckled at Avalon’s teat for seventeen years now. It’s only rational that they pull their fair share now.”

Florette, even swaying as she was, looked seconds away from murdering the man. I can’t even blame her. Camille pulled the bandit closer, digging her fingers into her skin. But this isn’t the time.

“Did…” Simon wrinkled his nose. “Did Prince Harold order this? Does he think he can avoid committing more forces from Avalon itself? Use the territorial apparatus for a quick strike with Malin in the firing line?” He sucked in air through his teeth. “It’s folly! Wealth and commerce make this city strong; stripping its population away for a war our soldiers can fight better is a monument to idiocy!”

“It’s not my business to know. Your father ordered me to mobilize, and mobilize I shall.”

Florette opened her mouth, but Camille elbowed her hard in the side. Still, Camille couldn’t stay silent on this. “You’re going to send these people into the thresher just to spare yourself? Unarmed and untrained?”

“Nonsense!” Whitbey tilted his head back, looking down his nose at her. “Avalon’s discipline and tactics are second to none, and we intend to impart them onto all who fight beneath our banner. We shall train them as best we can in the time we have before the assault, and then…” He shrugged. “Well, there’s no better tutor than the battlefield. Those who survive shall emerge blooded, hardened, better able to serve.”

“At what cost?” Simon, of all people, asked. “You know what happens when you depopulate the workforce! All the more to send it unarmed into the lion’s den.”

“You all are taking this far out of proportion. The Guardians and I will be giving them much of our own weapon stock, in addition to training them in it. When the resupply of new weaponry from Lyrion arrives, we won’t have much need for the old.”

Florette’s eyes lit up at that, the fury remaining, but with something new as well. “I thought the harbor was destroyed. Can it really—” She interrupted herself with a hiccup. “Can it really accommodate an entire shipment of weapons?”

Whitbey’s lip curled. “That is the Governor’s business alone, not information you need. Really, I don’t understand what all of you are so worked up over. This is a surgical strike: fast, efficient, and skillful. By the time the Prince even hears that we’ve set out, the battle will already be won.”

“So sure about that, huh?” Florette’s voice dripped with naked contempt. “I bet—”

“Alright!” Camille interrupted, dragging Florette away by the arm. “We’re going to take a minute. Please excuse us.”

The moment it took to get out of earshot was agonizing, all the more so with Florette drunkenly protesting the entire way.

“What in Levian’s name is wrong with you?” Camille thrust her aside. “This is an intelligence-gathering operation, not an excuse to demean yourself.”

“He’s a monster!” Florette spat out. “Conscripting innocents? Killing children? How can you just stand there and let him talk like that? He has to die. We can pull it off, too! All we do is get him alone on the cliffside where he’s been lurking all night, and give him a push. He has to die,” she repeated.

“And he will!” The second of my one thousand due to Levian, if I have anything to say about it, after only Perimont himself. “But now is not the time! I thought you understood this! You’re a pirate, a thief, a confidence artist. Like Verrou, or the Queen of the Exiles, right?”

Florette clenched her fists, a slight hitch in her voice. “If Captain Verrou saw a man like that, so desperately calling out for a stabbing, he’d fucking stab him. What are we even here for, if not to deal with monsters like him?”

“Strong words, but think about this! What happens if Whitbey dies?”

“The world is a better place. Even if… even if I have to kill him to make that happen. It’s worth it.”

Fool. “Think about Malin. Perimont will replace him with another crony in a heartbeat. His conscriptions and inquisitions carry on without a hitch, only now he’s suspicious. Most suspicious, probably, of the foreign girl who spent all night antagonizing his Captain the night before he fell off a cliff!” Camille bit her lip. “You aren’t stupid, Florette. I know you see the problem here. Patience!”

“It has to be tonight.” She took a deep breath, wobbling slightly as she did. “Has to be tonight, or it might not happen at all. Can’t lose my nerve.”

A pirate, losing her nerve?

Camille blinked, realization setting in. The hesitation despite her passion, the conflicted hitch in her voice. With how much the girl had drunk, acting a bit emotional was hardly unexpected, but this… “You’ve never killed anyone before, have you?”

“I have.” Florette met her gaze evenly. “But so what if I hadn’t? Does that make me weak? Unworthy of respect?”

“I never said that.”

“But you’re thinking it, right? If I can’t do this, or if I hesitate too much, or show remorse afterwards, you’ll just cast me aside.”

“What? Why would you think that? Who would do that?”

Florette turned her head to the side, lips curling. “Eloise did. We were happy together; she was training me to be her quartermaster. And I was doing great! I helped her steal from Magnifico, I was the one who found Prince Luce and apprehended him… and killed the girl guarding him. Her name was Cassia. I can’t ever forget that. I—”

She trailed off as Camille wrapped an arm around her, not saying a word.

It struck Camille for the first time just how young Florette was, seeing her shoulders droop in defeat. I was twice as foolish, five years younger. No less reckless either, really. Restraint had to be learned, and what a hard lesson it was.

So hard you couldn’t even manage it fully before Lumière shot you in the shoulder.

“Eloise is the singularly most horrid person I have ever met.” Camille rubbed the girl’s shoulder gently. “It says only good things about you that you displeased her.”

Florette let out the slightest hint of a laugh before her dour expression returned. “It’s easy for you not to worry about it. You must have killed hundreds. You even beat death itself. But I— I stabbed someone in the riots after your duel, trying to get Fernan and get out. I have no idea if they lived, or who they were. I was just to get through. And Cassia… She lunged and I struck back. It was almost an accident.”

I’m sure she would find that comforting. But Camille left the nasty thought unsaid.

“I really haven’t,” she said instead. “Lumière would have been the first. But I hesitated… It’s not a mistake I intend to make twice, but I don’t blame you for doing the same.”

“First?” Florette narrowed her eyes, pulling back from Camille’s embrace. “What about the sacrifices? You must have sent hundreds of people to their deaths, doomed at sea to feed your patron spirit. What, they don’t count?”

“Well, first of all, it’s not ‘hundreds’. There aren’t many Malins in Guerron and almost none did anything bad enough to die for. Perhaps a dozen, over my entire tenure.” I even provided for the family of the last to pry him away from Lumière, though it was more than the likes of him deserved. “They were criminals, Florette. Murderers, rapists, only the most vile who truly deserved death.” Mother’s words, dimly recalled from so long ago. “And they were condemned in any case. The laws of spirits and humanity alike judged them worthy of death; I merely helped carry it out. It’s been the duty of a sage for eons.”

Her expression didn’t change as she responded, voice cold. “You sound like Whitbey.”

Camille jumped back, her face twisting into a snarl. “Whitbey follows his master’s command to every atrocity without a second thought. He hunts down the starving, the loyal, and the downtrodden, then strings them up for failing to bow low enough to their oppressors. He would enslave my people to fight Avalon’s wars. If you really can’t see the difference—”

“I’m not saying there’s no difference. I’m saying that your justification is identical.”

“I can’t believe you!” She bit her lip tightly. “You’ve killed before. You were about to do it again! If you’d given his life’s energy to Levian instead of letting it dissipate uselessly, would that somehow make it unacceptable?”

“Of course not. That’s not the point!” Florette sucked in air through her teeth. “Some people have to die. They’ve earned it, through their choices and deeds. If they’re sacrificed or not, it doesn’t make any difference; dead is dead. Spirits have nothing to do with it.”

“Then what is the problem?”

Florette mumbled something in response, too quiet to hear.

“When you kill, it’s entirely fine, but when it’s someone you don’t like, suddenly it’s the time to moralize and—”

“That’s not it!” Florette took a deep breath. “They still matter. They still count. Even the monsters, they’re still people. Whether or not they were going to die anyway, whether or not they deserved it, whether or not someone else would have just done it in your place. You killed them, Camille, just like I killed Cassia. Own it.”

Florette left after that, not deigning to speak another word, but Camille remained.

Her eyes were still staring out over the water when the sun rose, Florette’s words still echoing in her ears.

They still matter. They’re still people. And you killed them.

As the first rays of light began to creep over the hill, the beach below became gradually clearer. The ruins of the Great Temple began to gleam in the early morning light, slowly sinking into the sea.

And the gallows showed themselves as well, a blighted spot on the pristine sand, a wound in the earth…

If I’m to live past year’s end, I have to kill a thousand more.