I get to be with Kai. He gets to be with me. This can’t be coincidence. There has to be some sort of plan behind it.
Or could it really be the closest thing to a reward they can give us? Am I risking my own happiness because I’m too paranoid to accept a gift?
She backed away politely as the royalty on both sides turned its attention away from her. For a moment she caught Kai’s eyes, and she saw the same awareness—and the same hope—in his face. Then he stepped back to answer a question from his father, and she looked away before she could be caught staring.
“Well, Winters,” Vale said softly. “It sounds as if you will be causing my world some inconvenience for a while yet.”
Apparently he’d made the same calculus of potential dangers that she had. “I could request that this theoretical embassy be positioned elsewhere,” Irene said reluctantly. “So long as I take the job, that is.”
Vale snorted. “Hardly necessary. Simply exercise your customary caution.” He glanced at the rue de Rivoli beyond the trees. “And do your best to avoid blowing up London, if at all possible.”
Silver slid through the crowd towards them, giving Irene his most affectionate and enticing smile. “I have to admit, my little mouse, that I’ve seldom been so relieved in my life.”
“For which of many possible reasons?” Irene asked.
“Not being given any official appointment regarding our new treaty. It’s really not my style.” He reached inside his coat and slid out an envelope, offering it to Irene. “And speaking of things I’d rather not hold on to—here you are. I’m sure you can find a safe place to keep it.”
Irene flipped the envelope open. The contents were reassuringly the same as earlier: the letter the Countess had given her. She hadn’t actually read it, and she wasn’t sure that she wanted to. She could feel the Cardinal’s eyes on her from across the crowd, even if he wasn’t currently looking at her. “Somewhere very safe, I think.” She slid it into her own coat. “No talk of favours?”
Silver flashed his teeth in a smile. “After some study of your personality, my dear Irene Winters, I’m coming to the conclusion I might prefer to have your goodwill instead. The world is changing. I will watch with interest. Do come by the embassy when we’re back in London. I’m sure I can host a party that would . . . entertain you. Bring your pet dragon. And the Princess has told me to make sure you get paid, detective, so I’ll see to that.”
He tipped his hat and wandered away.
“Do you believe his affirmations of goodwill?” Vale asked, austere and suspicious.
“I think the strength of his intentions may depend on the seriousness of the situation,” Irene answered quietly. “But he has come out ahead for the moment, so let’s not rock the boat. Could you help me across to Coppelia, please?”
A gap formed around Coppelia as Irene and Vale approached, with surrounding Librarians and bystanders melting away.
Coppelia looked up and her face creased in a smile. “You know, for a moment I honestly thought you’d refuse.”
“You’re my teacher,” Irene responded. She knew that people around her were listening to the conversation, even if they were tactfully pretending not to. “Of all the people here, you should know which way I’d jump.”
“You might have claimed that you weren’t up to it. You’ve done it before. I’m glad that you didn’t do it this time. After a certain point, it becomes a habit.” Coppelia offered her hand to Vale. “And thank you very much for your help. I hope that we can call on you again if necessary. I believe your fees are on a fixed scale, except when you remit them entirely?”
Vale gave her a small bow. “You are correct, madam, though I would expect nothing less from you. I am glad I could be of assistance.”
“Excellent. My agent will be calling on you later.”
Irene passed Coppelia the letter. “This needs to go somewhere very safe indeed.”
“Ah yes,” Coppelia said, tucking it under the blanket that covered her skirts. “Another document for the files . . . You can call on me in your own time, you know, Irene.” Her voice softened. “There’s no need to be a stranger.”
Irene thought about all the people in her future. “I promise that I won’t,” she said quietly. “Some things may change, but others will stay the same.”
She felt the brush of orderly power behind her and turned to see Ao Guang, with Kai behind him. Automatically she dipped in a bow, and Vale perforce did the same.
Ao Guang nodded to them both. “There is no need to detain you further,” he said, in a tone of voice that Irene decided to class as friendly. “I can see that you are both injured, and the night is cold. I will be glad to escort Madam Coppelia and her friends to the Bibliothèque nationale, to exit this world.”
And the Cardinal’s letter. Right. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” Irene said. She tried to meet his eyes without having any thoughts about Kai whatever. Or about Ao Ji. Or about anything to which Ao Guang could take exception.
“Your fee will be dispatched to you,” Ao Guang informed Vale. “Kai, see to it. I will not require you for the rest of the night.”
“Yes, my lord father,” Kai said, with another bow.
Ao Guang turned from them to Coppelia with the calm assurance of a man who knew they’d vanish into social invisibility the moment he looked away. Kai took Irene’s other arm, and the three of them retreated to the shelter of one of the statues.
“I can get all three of us home,” Kai said quietly. “Irene’s obviously not up to much travel—”
“Excuse me,” Irene muttered, and coughed.
“Ignore Winters,” Vale advised Kai. “After being ordered around just now, she feels the need to assert her independence.”
Irene glared at him but didn’t trust her throat enough to speak.
“Or we could find another hotel for the next few hours,” Kai suggested. “Enough to catch some sleep. My father has given me leave.”
“Yes, we heard,” Vale said. “Tell me, Strongrock, what do you make of this embassy business?”
“Experimental,” Kai said thoughtfully. “But it’s worth a try, I think. And it keeps me out of court for the moment. The matter of my uncle . . .”
“I’m sorry about that,” Irene said hoarsely.
Kai looked at her, choosing his words carefully. “Irene, I would be lying if I said I was at all comfortable with what has happened. But my father came to help. He has publicly acknowledged me and given me a worthy task. Things are never going to be the same—but I know that he feels I acted properly. And his opinion is the most important thing to me.”
More important than me? The words rose in Irene’s throat, but before they could pass her lips she saw just how stupid they were. There were different sorts of importance. Kai would never ask her to compare her affection for him to her loyalty to the Library. Mortal beings could have more than one thing that they cared about. Immortal ones, like dragon kings, might be carried away by their ruling passions and be prepared to sacrifice everything else—all other loves, all loyalties, all honour—to that consuming flame.
But she was mortal.
She nodded.
In the distance, down along the Seine and on one of the further bridges, far-away noises drifted through the snow. The grinding of cartwheels, the noise of horses’ hooves, and above it, singing and shouts of enthusiasm.
“What’s going on?” Kai asked.
“The early-morning market vendors,” Vale answered. “They’re bringing their vegetables and other food to the markets at Les Halles. They usually go along the boulevard Saint-Michel—but perhaps the snow has closed it. And I’m told the more bohemian students often accompany them.” The disapproving lines of his face suggested that he’d never done any such thing himself when he’d been studying.
Irene, however, had. “Life goes on,” she said philosophicall
y, giving up on resting her voice, “and Paris will be here long after we’ve left it. I think a hotel might be the best idea. We can get back to London tomorrow.”
“Probably wise,” Vale agreed. He looked at the group of people in front of them. Fae, dragons, Librarians—and all of them interacting with each other. If not warmly, then at least politely. “I daresay nobody will notice that we have gone.”
Irene nodded. She smiled at both of them, more genuinely than she’d managed yet this evening. It was difficult to let fear go. Yet she was willing to try. “Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day. But . . . I think I’m looking forward to it.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Genevieve Cogman is a freelance author who has written for several role-playing game companies. She currently works for the National Health Service in England as a clinical classifications specialist. She is the author of The Invisible Library, The Masked City, The Burning Page, The Lost Plot, and The Mortal Word.
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The Mortal Word Page 40