Percy crossed his arms and glared at Rue. “Tell them the rest of it.”

Rue stuck her tongue out at him. She didn’t want the others to know the remainder of their new instructions. Quesnel would make a joke of it and Primrose would worry.

Percy said, because it looked like she wouldn’t, “Rue has been given sundowner dispensation.”

“Oh, just lovely.” Instead of teasing her, Quesnel lost all merriment and looked annoyed.

“That’s me, licensed to kill supernaturals,” said Rue blithely, feeling the strain at the back of her eyes, but making light of the matter for the sake of Prim, who looked like she might cry. “Ain’t it topping?”

“I think Lord Akeldama is worried about the Rakshasas. Doesn’t trust them. Thinks they may have stolen the taxes themselves,” Percy added.

Rue shook her head. “I think it’s most likely Paw overreacting. I bet he heard about the kidnapping, fears the worst, and pressured the Shadow Council into granting me permission to exterminate supernaturals. Or Mother thinks I’m going to accidentally kill a immortal and wants to reduce her paperwork.”

“How did we go from tea to death so quickly?” wondered Quesnel.

“Sometimes,” said Prim darkly, “there is a very fine line between the two.”

“There’s no we!” insisted Rue. “This is my responsibility. I’ve been given the role. Dama obviously doesn’t trust any other agents here in India.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” said Prim firmly. “Of course there’s a we. Now, shall we do some collective cogitation? What did everyone learn at the party about this kidnapping?”

It was a great deal later on in the evening before they retired.

Rue was surprised to find, when she went to open the door to her captain’s quarters, that Quesnel had followed her from the stateroom. She hoped the other two hadn’t seen.

“You aren’t going to take this sundowner burden to heart, are you, chérie?”

Rue looked into his violet eyes, her own yellow ones twinkling. “It is a sacred duty.”

“Are you this flippant about everything?”

“That’s rich coming from you.” Rue only then realised he was being serious, or trying to be. Quesnel didn’t wear serious very well. It looked ill-fitting on him – his mercurial face was pinched and his eyes sombre.

He said, “Dealing out death changes a person. I should not wish to see you so very altered and…” He trailed off.

Rue wondered what he might have said. “How would you know what death does?” she asked, not unkindly.

“I’ve been around it all my life. You know I was partly raised by my great-aunt when I was younger?”

“Yes?” Rue encouraged. She knew very little about Quesnel’s childhood. When they’d first met, he was already at university.

“A ghost.”

“Oh. So you watched her fade to poltergeist?”

“I did.”

“But you have not killed anyone yourself?”

A quick flash of his old charming grin. “Not as far as I know. Perhaps in matters of the heart.”

Rue made the only promise she could. “I will do my best not to use this power, but if we are going after this kidnapped woman and the Rakshasas do have her…”

“You would do it?”

Rue tried to be serious. She wasn’t all that good at it either. It probably looked worse on her than it did on Quesnel. “I believe I could kill one of them, if I had to. He was very rude.”

“Yet they are vampires, and you were raised by a vampire. You would have more trouble than most, I think.” Still so serious.

Rue wanted to tell him to stop. This conversation was making her uncomfortable. “Perhaps that’s why the Shadow Council decided to grant me sundowner status. They knew I would struggle with death dealing – morally as well as physically.”

“I cannot believe your mother would allow such a burden.”

Rue stiffened. She may not always get along with her mother but she would not have her maligned. “My mother knows her responsibility to queen and country. She would not have permitted the conference of sundowner status if she didn’t think I could handle the repercussions.” Perhaps that was part of Rue’s own ready acceptance: Mother is actually treating me like an adult.

“Indeed? And has she ever been a sundowner?”

“No, only a licensed exorcist. But Paw’s held the title since he became head of BUR.”

“And how has your father handled the repercussions?” Quesnel wondered.

Rue considered this question. Really considered it for the first time in her life. She had always known that her adored Paw was one of the few men in Britain authorised to hunt and kill vampires and werewolves as needed. But she’d never thought much about how he felt about that, nor indeed how the rest of the supernatural community might regard him as a result. It must be lonely. That Rue could understand. Her three parents had tried hard to bring her up without spoiling her overmuch, but Rue knew she was unique in the world. There weren’t even historical records of metanaturals, only rumour and hearsay. It was an odd kind of loneliness, like being the last of a dying race. Would she be further ostracised if she killed as well?

“Paw is Paw – things mostly roll off him. How else could he survive marriage to my mother?” she answered at last.

Quesnel cradled her face in his hands. “Don’t accept sundowner status, chérie. You can say no.”