Tatiana screamed. It was a wordless noise, a long terrible howl, as if perhaps some part of her realized that the person speaking to her had more reason than anyone else alive to know what she truly was. She screamed—
And Piers Wentworth rushed toward Tatiana. “No!” Will shouted, but it was too late, Piers was blustering forward, flinging himself up onto the stage; he reached for Tatiana, whose mouth was open like a terrible black hole, his fingers were inches from Alexander—
Cordelia felt a rush of something cold go through the room. Behind Tatiana, the ballroom windows swung open, dangling on their hinges; Piers fell to his knees, shouting in rage, his hands closing on empty air.
Tatiana had vanished, and Alexander with her.
* * *
Lucie saw it as if it were happening in slow motion: that idiot Wentworth lunging at Tatiana. The explosion of glass as a window blew outward. The terrible sound made by Cecily as Tatiana vanished with Alexander. Anna pushing through the crowd, racing to her mother. The motionless Enclave jerking into movement again.
And Jesse—Jesse had come in from the balcony, where Lucie had pleaded with him, cajoled and demanded that he stay out of the ballroom. If Tatiana caught sight of him, she’d said, she might do anything; she might harm Alexander. Reluctantly, he’d agreed to remain outside, but he had clearly seen everything that had happened. He was nightmare-pale, his hand cold where it encircled Lucie’s.
“I thought she was in Cornwall,” he said. “She was meant to be imprisoned. She was meant to be kept away.”
“It wasn’t her,” Lucie whispered. She did not know why she felt it so strongly, only that she did. “It was never her in Cornwall. It was a distraction. She knew about the party. She planned this. She and Belial planned this.”
“To kidnap your cousin?” Jesse asked.
“To tell everyone,” Lucie said. She felt numb. It had finally happened: everyone in the Enclave knew the truth about her family. About Belial. “About us.”
She had half expected that the moment Tatiana vanished, the Enclave would turn on her and her family. But Tatiana had made a tactical error: in taking Alexander with her, she had delayed even the Inquisitor’s interest in anything other than tracking her down and getting the child away from her. It was as if a silent agreement had been reached between them all: the issue of Belial would have to wait. Rescuing Alexander came first.
The adults began to move in a sort of wave. They descended on the weapons tree and began to pull it apart, everyone seizing up a blade—Eugenia claimed a three-pointed fuscina, while Piers took a longsword, Sophie seized a crossbow, and Charles a brutal-looking war hammer. They began to pour out of the ballroom, through the doors, some even through the broken window, into the streets outside, spreading out to search for Tatiana.
Before James and Lucie could even start toward the weapons tree, Will stepped in front of them. He held a curved blade in one hand. “Go upstairs,” he said. He was pale, his jaw set. “Both of you. Take your friends and go upstairs.”
“But we want to help,” Lucie said. “We want to go with you—and Anna is old enough, and Thomas—”
Will shook his head. “They may be old enough,” he said. “But Cecily has just had one of her children kidnapped. She cannot also be panicking over her daughter. Anna should stay with you. Thomas, as well.” He looked around. “Where is Christopher?”
“He doesn’t like parties. He told Anna not to expect him because he ‘had science to do’; I imagine he’s in Henry’s lab,” said Lucie. “But, Father, please—”
It was clear there was no begging, no wheedling, that would change his mind. “No,” he said. “I have too much to think about already, Lucie. Your mother’s with Cecily, trying to hold her together. I know you want to help. I would want to do the same, in your place. But I need you to stay here, stay safe, or you and your mother will be all I can think about. Not Tatiana. Not getting Alexander back.”
“How did she get here?” James said. “Tatiana. I thought she was in the Cornwall Sanctuary.”
“We’ll discuss that later,” said Will. There were dark lines at the sides of his mouth. “Go upstairs. Stay there. Do you understand me?”
“We understand,” James said calmly. “We’ll take care of the situation.”
And he did. Lucie saw why the Merry Thieves had always called him the leader of their group. With a calm that brooked no argument, he gathered them all—Alastair and Cordelia, Anna and Ari and Matthew, Thomas and Jesse—and even though each one of them objected, herded them out of the （now nearly empty） ballroom and up the stairs. They had reached the second floor when Anna began to protest.
“James,” she said, her voice a harsh rasp. “I ought to be with my mother—”
“I understand,” James said. “And if you choose to be there, you should be. But I thought you might want the chance to go after Alexander.”
Anna sucked in a breath. “James? What do you mean?”
James took a left off the landing and began to lead them down the hall; Lucie could hear the others muttering in puzzlement, but she was beginning to have an inkling of where her brother was taking them. James said, “Jesse, tell them what you told me.”
“I think I know where my mother will have taken the child,” said Jesse.
“Alexander,” Anna said, a savage edge to her voice. “His name is Alexander.”
“Anna,” said Ari gently. “Jesse is trying to help.”
“Then why not tell everyone?” Thomas asked Jesse. He did not sound hostile, only puzzled. “Why not tell Will, let him spread the word that you know what your mother would have done?”
“Because nobody knows who Jesse really is,” said Alastair as James paused in front of a large iron door. “They think he’s Jeremy Blackthorn.”
“Indeed,” said Matthew. “If Will claims to have knowledge gained from Tatiana’s son, it will blow up the whole enterprise.”
“It’s not only that,” Jesse said quickly. “I would sacrifice my identity happily. But I could be wrong. It’s a guess, a feeling, not a surety. I cannot send everyone in the Enclave off after a belief I have—what if they all descend on one location, but it’s the wrong one? Then who would be looking for Alexander elsewhere?”
He’s right, Lucie wanted to say, but that would be seen as mere partisanship. Everyone knew how she felt about Jesse.
It was Cordelia who spoke.
“Jesse is right,” she said. “But James—you did swear to your father that we’d stay here, didn’t you?”
James’s face was set like iron. “I’ll have to beg his forgiveness later,” he said, and swung the doors open. Beyond it was the weapons room. It had only grown since Will had taken over the Institute, and now spread over two chambers of axes and longswords, hammers and quoits and shuriken that gleamed like stars, runed bows and arrows, whips and maces and polearms. There was armor: gear and chain mail, gauntlets and greaves. On the wide table in the center of the room, seraph blades were lined up like rows of icicles, ready to be named and used.