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to apologize, but Elsie cut him off.
    "No, indeed. I always enjoy when an Untalented presumes to school me in Magnellum politics, Ambassador Taven. It quite makes my day."
    "That was not my intention, my Lady. You have my sincere . . ."
    "It does not matter, Montgomery Taven." Elsie turned away from them, but her last sentence carried over the sounds of birds and gentle brushing of leaves through the garden. "The prattling of society at large will make little difference to anyone very soon."
    As she walked away from the table, the Witch waved her gloved hand, sending the serving cart into sudden motion. The cloth flipped back, the tea set lifted and floated, settling on the table with exactly the right place settings. Delicate saucers, pansy-blue patterned cups, all of it arranged itself without any noise or fuss. Valeda had a creeping sensation crawl up her spine as she stared at her own cup, now filled with amber, cinnamon-scented liquid.
    "My wife does not care for tea," Lord Dorian said, mostly to Valeda. "But she knows the apple spice is a favorite of the Ambassador."
    Beside her, Monty squirmed and pulled a kerchief from his vest pocket. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and muttered a further apology. Valeda glanced between Monty and the Consort, sensing the unspoken challenge that drifted between them. Monty had been terribly rude, but the Witch had abused the Ambassador's time by forcing him to wait. Valeda understood the precarious alliances that held Magnellum together. Each House brought different bits of trade, different engineers and resources to the table, and each one was out to secure their own power and prestige.
    With thirteen distinct House Lands fragmenting Magnellum, there were no fewer than sixty-seven embargos cutting the merchant business down. Of course, there was a thriving black market in every town, but the Warders were constantly raiding them. Valeda had done an article on the embargo of special soaps from Clenci in her home land of Tormey. One particularly fidgety shop owner she'd interviewed had made the simplest and perfect summation of the problem: "I couldn't care less if Lady Tormey's got her britches twisted over Lady Clenci's marital decisions. Their personal opinions haven't got anything to do with trade."
    "Please extend my apologies to the House Witch," Monty sighed and shook his head. "Your announcement took me by surprise and I thought . . ."
    "You thought her years living as an Untalented might have blinded her to the politics in Magnellum," Lord Dorian finished for him.
    "Well, yes. She does seem out to defy everyone." Monty stared at the place she'd left through. "There are many in the Council who would like to befriend Delgora, but she is making that very difficult."
    Valeda listened raptly. House tensions were nothing new, but Elsie Delgora was still a figure of speculation. Years living in disguise as an Untalented, she thought. So not all of the stories I'd read had been exaggerated.
    "Let me make something very clear," Lord Dorian leaned forward to adjust his teacup, pausing before he continued. "My wife may have lived humbly for many years. She may have been forced to endure more than any Witch-Born has ever conceived of in her lifetime, but she is nobler than any member of the Council because of it."
    The force of his statement caused Monty to rock back on his heels. With a nod of his head, Lord Dorian bid them good day and left.
     

CHAPTER FOUR
    He woke with the train still hovering overhead. There was warmth and light where there shouldn't be and Winslow's groggy mind struggled to catch up. Beyond the train, just to the left, he could see starlight and the moon shining through high treetops. The train itself was a smudge of tangled iron in the shadows above him, looking like a jagged, toothy mouth gaping wide.
    Shuddering, Winslow rolled to his left, flinching as pain shot through his leg.
    He still needed to fix that.
    He'd been about to access his magic when he