"If you let me live," Esmond whispered, "I will do it again."
Selara raised the pistol.
There was no warning in the movement. One moment her hand was at her side, and the next the barrel was aimed at his forehead. Her face had gone cold in a way Trafalgar had not seen before, stripped of disgust and grief until only decision remained.
Esmond looked at the weapon, and for a breath, even he stopped smiling.
Trafalgar stepped between the line of fire and the chair.
Selara's eyes cut to him. "Move."
"No."
Her finger tightened around the trigger. "He said he would do it again."
"I heard him."
"Then you understand why he dies here."
Trafalgar did not soften his voice. That would have insulted her more. "If you shoot him now, Aurevane gets a dead criminal and a room full of claims. They will bury half of this under procedure before sunset."
Selara's jaw flexed.
