As the man removes his hat and cloak, Elizabeth inches along the perimeter of the room, carefully placing one foot over the other, and allows herself little time to think of anything except maintaining a clear escape route. She cannot allow this man to come between her and the door to the gardens.

And then he speaks.

The Commodore's gaze seems to pierce the shadows, locating her immediately and laying bare her intentions. Shock renders her motionless once more. Elizabeth feels certain he can see every last detail of her expression, and quickly schools her features into the impassive mask that has served her well aboard the Empress.

"You've moved papers," she repeats, voice sounding rough to her own ears; but there is no reason to remain silent when he so clearly knows she's there. "On whose authority?"

Everything could hinge on his answer. Tense, Elizabeth remains poised for flight.