The horn men seek and never find. Will’s skin prickled, thinking of a world that was gone, but for a handful of relics buried deep in the Hall of the Stewards.
‘You don’t believe in unicorns?’ said Will.
‘I believe in commerce,’ said Devon. ‘Two hundred and fifty years ago, Queen Elizabeth was given a bejewelled horn at the princely cost of a castle. It wouldn’t have been worth quite so much if she knew it was a fish tooth.’ The candlelight flickered, and the ivory that cluttered every surface seemed to take on a different hue. ‘Why? Do you believe in them?’ The light played on Devon’s face too. ‘A glade of newborn foals, each one with a little nub in the middle of its forehead?’ There was something testing about the words.
Will said, ‘I’m not here to chase unicorns.’
‘No?’ Devon’s mild word had something underneath it.
‘No. I believe I mentioned,’ said Will, ‘I’m here to buy a gift.’
‘For a lady?’ said Devon. His words were casual, but Will felt a flare of recognition.
He knows, he thought, and the words made sense of Devon’s testing manner and the way Devon carefully wasn’t looking at him.
His pulse spiked. Now that Devon had recognised him, he had to get out. And he had to do it without giving the plan away.
‘Yes, that’s right.’ Will kept his own voice casual. ‘A lady.’
‘Cameos are popular.’ Devon moved to the desk and drew out a display tray. Five ivory cameo brooches were pinned to black velvet. ‘Or rings?’
His movements were slow and deliberate, like his breathing. Now that Will knew he had been recognised, he could see that Devon was afraid. Devon glanced at Will’s hand holding the purse. His scarred hand.
‘A necklace, perhaps,’ said Devon. ‘An ivory rose so fine that you’d believe a real flower adorned the hollow of her throat.’ He’s stalling.
‘I ought to come back with a lady’s eye,’ said Will. ‘I’m spoiled for choice.’
‘Robert will be here soon,’ said Devon. ‘You could wait for him.’
‘I’m afraid I’ve taken up too much of your time already,’ said Will.
‘It’s no trouble,’ said Devon.
‘I’ll return at a more reasonable hour. A token.’ Will scattered what little of the contents of his purse comprised coins on the counter and walked out of the shop.
I’ve done it. He tried to walk calmly, letting anyone who was watching see him, exposed on the street. Devon knows who I am. He forced down the echo of that old voice, the moment when the world had changed and nothing had ever been safe again. Run!
Because there was only one thing that would lure James out.
Me.
He knew what he had to do next, and he had made it to his appointed spot, hoping the others were in position, when he saw Cyprian.
‘Cyprian. You’re not supposed to be here.’
The back streets were deserted, tall houses rising on either side creating dark, empty canyons, perfect for an ambush.
Cyprian stepped forward with the earnestness of a bodyguard. ‘If you are what Justice says you are, you can’t be alone.’
This wasn’t part of the plan that Will had shouted as they galloped, the wind on the marshes whipping the words from his mouth. ‘You have to get into position. Devon’s going to tell James who I am.’
‘If you really are Blood of the Lady,’ said Cyprian, ‘I can’t be the one who lets you fall into Simon’s hands.’
The words were as unexpected as everything else about Cyprian’s presence here. The perfect novitiate breaking all the rules. He had seen Cyprian’s discomfort at tricking the other Stewards to free them. Cyprian had an extraordinary sense of his own duty. But if they didn’t get Marcus back, none of that was going to matter. ‘Cyprian—’
‘Justice was right about one thing,’ said Cyprian, shaking his head. ‘Marcus did always believe in the Lady. He was sure you had survived. He thought that he would be the one to find you. He told me that he’d—’
Cyprian broke off, blinked, and then crumpled. There was no warning, no sound or change; he simply hit the ground in an unnatural collapse.
‘Cyprian!’ said Will, racing to his prone body. On one knee, he felt desperately for an injury, a dart or a bullet, finding nothing. Cyprian didn’t respond, just lay heavy and motionless, eyes open as one frozen. Was he alive? Dead? He didn’t seem to be breathing—