The boardroom of Blackwood Holdings smelled of scorched cedar and old money.

Agnetha stood at the head of the obsidian table, the Phoenix Heart pulsing beneath her collarbone like a second, furious heartbeat. Every seat was filled by a different kind of predator: Kretian oligarchs with frost-rimed cufflinks, Corban bankers whose shadows flickered with ember eyes, and three silent figures in crimson robes (the last surviving members of the Order of the Eternal Flame). 

Maps of ...