Lorraine's brows furrowed, irritation flickering behind her mask. "Why not?" she pressed, stepping closer to him.
It was the perfect plan. It was the truth, too. Better to kill Hadrian and lay his head before the Emperor than allow the web to tighten around them all.
But Leroy only looked at her. "The Dowager knows," he said quietly.
Lorraine stilled. Her past encounters with the Dowager flooded back; her veiled threats, her ties with the zealots, her shadowy manipulations. Yes, the old woman was plotting something. She might discuss it with Leroy later, but not here. Not with Hadrian listening.
And yet, out of nowhere, Hadrian began to laugh. Low, beaten down at first, but swelling into something sharper. It sounded less like a broken man and more like a phoenix clawing its way out of ashes.
Leroy turned toward him. Lorraine moved to stand at Leroy's side, narrowing her eyes at the sight of her father. He looked far too sure of himself, as if savoring some private victory.
