Aidan and Simon stared at Dalia as if she was a problem to be solved, which in truth was not totally an uncommon experience for her.

The difference was that most people were trying to solve the problem of how to get into Dalia’s bedroom. But Simon had been there, multiple times, and Duke Aidan had no interest in her in that way.

And even if he had, Dalia valued Samantha’s friendship too highly to cross that particular boundary. Besides, the man was so dangerous that even Dalia stepped warily around him.

The trigger for their stare was a tavern brawl the previous evening. The brawl was caused, Dalia would argue, by a sailor who tried to rape a woman. When the woman stabbed him in the stomach and he bled to death on the floor of the tavern, his shipmates, four of them, tried to extract vengeance from the woman and her three friends.

The sailors might have argued that Dalia was to blame for recruiting a band of female street orphans and seeing them trained to use daggers and other weapons.

The five of Gavin’s marines in the tavern (Dalia was not stupid about where she advised her trainees to seek fun and relation) recognized the women as part of the group that they were helping to train in close-quarters combat and dirty street fighting. They objected to the attempted assault on the women; they objected so strenuously that the tavern needed a new front window, three new chairs, and a careful sweeping of glass and pottery shards. Another sailor was dead, the other three were in the hospital, and two of Gavin’s marines were on light duty while minor wounds healed.

The City Watch’s commander had assessed the identities of the people involved in the brawl and immediately kicked the case upstairs to the ducal court. Aidan was set to hear the case in the morning.

“I am going to need to thread a needle to sew a just outcome for this situation in tomorrow’s hearing. But I also want a solution to the larger potential problem that you have created. My scouts tell me that you have more than thirty women training under the tutelage of Gavin’s marines. I cannot have an unpredictable band of, essentially, assassins in my city.”

Simon turned toward Aidan, and then said to him, “You will need a spymaster. And the best practice is to keep the person’s identity a secret. Nobody would suspect that she is yours.”

Dalia interjected, with some bitterness in her voice. “Because I’m too pretty to be smart enough to hold that office?”

The laugh that escaped Simon made Dalia’s eyes narrow, but the light humor in the sound and her grudging trust of him kept her temper in check long enough for him to continue. “No, although I know you will encounter such attitudes. No, the reason is the track record and character of your employer.” He gestured at Aidan. “Duke Aidan has a well-earned reputation for solving problems with explosive violence. People will expect his spymaster to be someone like Gavin, someone who enters a room and is obviously, for any alert person, a dangerous predator. When people look at you, they see someone they hope to see naked, a sexy kitten not a ferocious tiger. And look at the bright side: being underestimated by his or Sebastian’s enemies would be an advantage in the work.”

“How would you begin the work?” Aidan asked. His insatiable curiosity and his weighing judgment both were driving his question.

Dalia shrugged. “Recruiting spies, of course, but not only that. Kimmelsport taught me that you survive by anticipating potential risks. So give me the tax records of all your major nobles for the past ten years. Loyal subjects pay their taxes; potential rivals or enemies will try to preserve the coins for their own agendas.”

Simon’s face took on the startled look that signaled his hearing of a good point or idea that had never occurred to him.

“Shrewd,” Aidan concluded. “Extremely so. After you look through the records, show me whether Baron Monroe and his key traitors revealed themselves far in advance of their direct betrayal of my father.”

Dalia took mercy on Simon. “What? Nobody can work with you and Marstens for months and not realize how much the flow of coin can reveal about a society.”

“See what I mean,” Simon said to Aidan. “She’s street-smart, and for what she doesn’t know, she learns quickly.”

“I am supportive of this idea, if you are willing, Dalia.” Aidan stared at her with his unsettling directness. “I promised Samantha that I would do everything I can to improve the status of women in our new republic. Employing you as Ravenwood’s spymaster would be one step in the right direction. In the short term, your role would be a secret, but eventually the truth will become known. And your efforts will help to expand opportunities for women throughout the republic.”

“Then if you will have me, I will serve you in this capacity.”

“Me only as a bureaucratic reality,” Aidan told her. “I want you to remember that you are serving the Republic. I’ll ask you to swear your oath to the Duchy of Ravenwood and the Republic.”

Dalia resisted at the core of her identity the feeling of pride and warm that kernelled in her stomach. She had long wanted her life to be about more than winning the approval of males, especially the more barbaric ones. But she acknowledged the feeling all the same because earning the respect of two smart, powerful individuals due to your mind’s thoughts, rather than your physical appearance, was her intoxicating drug of choice.

They talked for some minutes longer about how Aidan could handle tomorrow’s hearing to pay out some damages to the tavern owner and to the sailors not involved in the initial assault. Then, Duke Aidan stood and excused himself.

“Bide a moment, Dalia,” Simon requested. “I have some additional advice.”

After Duke Aidan has left and they were alone in the room. Simon murmured, “Gavin has suggested a name for your women: Dalia’s Furies.”

Dalia smiled. “I like it. But given what I’ll be doing, they cannot use it publicly.”

“I want you to remember, though, that sometimes fury and violence solve long-term problems, that sometimes you may not to act without calling any attention to those actions.”

A tilt of her head invited Simon to continue. “I’m not sure I follow your entire meaning.”

“Aidan—Duke Aidan is a man I’m coming to love practically as a son. He likes to think of himself as more ruthless, less bound by the arcane restrictions of honor that hampered his father. In some ways, he’s right. But he is his father’s son. Some actions, even some actions that clearly would benefit the republic, he simply will not take. So I merely emphasize what the duke himself said. You will be serving the Republic, not him alone.”

Dalia shrugged. “I won’t be reckless, but I will do whatever needs to be done.” “Good,” said Simon, unconsciously echoing Aidan pattern of speech. “Very good.”