Claudius sketches two portraits in his mind's eye: one of a woman with a firm sense of justice, fond enough of an old professor to add superlatives to his intelligence, but with no doubts about whether he deserved to die. The other is a woman who lost her brother, masquerading as her brother's killer, mocking her inflexibility and dull dedication to her job, letting her mask drop more the longer they walk together.

It's a matter of perspective. Assessing threats has always been Claudius's most relied-upon skill, and he turns over these two studies, wondering which one is most dangerous. He's never been more glad to have Lan Wangji at his back.

For now, he says in his usual, cheerful tone, "There's a story there, I can tell. Someone more clever than Acheron? A close friend? An old flame?"