"There have been times when I almost did," Lune said finally, not lifting her head. "I held back because in the end, I believed my death-or even my abdication-would create more problems than it would solve. There are fae here who share my ideals, but none of them, I think, could manage this court. And those who could rule effectively would not do so in a manner I can accept.

"So when it was merely the arguments of the Sanists, it was easy to say no no. But now there is the Dragon. And now... I do not know."

Irrith's hands curled into fists. She was vividly aware of her fingers, bones, joints-her body. Her self self. No separation between the two. "Maybe you wouldn't die, though. I don't really understand what they've been talking about, but it sounds like what they're after is just you in a different form, your soul separated from the aether that makes you solid. So you wouldn't really be dead, would you? You'd just be... different."

The two of them stared at each other, neither one moving, as if both were struck by the same thought. Lune said, "The philosopher's stone-"

"Would it be a stone?" Irrith asked, still not blinking. "Galen told me the alchemists thought it would be some kind of powder, red or shining or whatever-but how would they know? None of them ever made it, not truly. And we aren't working with metals, are we?" They were working with spirits. The Dragon's, and Lune's. it be a stone?" Irrith asked, still not blinking. "Galen told me the alchemists thought it would be some kind of powder, red or shining or whatever-but how would they know? None of them ever made it, not truly. And we aren't working with metals, are we?" They were working with spirits. The Dragon's, and Lune's.

Wouldn't the result be a spirit, too?

The words seemed to float up out of Lune, without any effort on her part. "I want to save the Onyx Hall."

"And the Dragon wants to destroy it," Irrith finished. "Which one of you wins?"

Her answer was the fear in those silver eyes. Lune was strong and determined, yes. But strong enough to defeat the Dragon?

"We could be wrong," Lune said carefully. "This is mere speculation, and neither of us is a scholar. Nevertheless..." Her shoulders went back, and the elfin woman was gone; in her place stood the Queen. "I hardly need tell you not to speak of this to anyone. I will consult with Galen-no, he is occupied. Another, then. I thank you, Irrith; you've given me much to think about."

She swept out the door, leaving Irrith alone once more in the laboratory. Staring blindly at the far wall, she sank into a cross-legged position on the floor.

The philosopher's stone might not be their salvation after all. Which left them with what? Aspell's plan of sacrifice?

A chill sank into Irrith's bones. Until Lune brought it up, she hadn't given much thought to the question of what would happen to the Onyx Court if its Queen... went away. The Hall, yes; but not the court itself, the fae and mortals, with all their conflicting desires. Who would hold them together in Lune's absence? Who could could?

Aspell, maybe. But he showed no sign of wanting it; from what Irrith had seen, he was a Sanist only with reluctance, because the situation forced him to it. So who, then? One of the others in the coffeehouse that day?

She didn't even know who they were-much less what ambition hid beneath their masks. And the more she thought about it, the more fear tightened her muscles. The Lord Keeper might insist he would do nothing against the Queen's will, but those unknown others....

Irrith paced with small, tight strides, thinking. If she tried to ask Aspell for their names, he wouldn't tell her; he'd think she was preparing to betray them. And maybe she was. But there was someone else she could ask-someone who might know, who could be intimidated into telling, and who wouldn't much care what happened afterward.

Irrith went to hunt Carline.

Feidelm sat in perfect silence for a full minute after Lune shared what she and Irrith had discussed. The sidhe's vivid eyes grew distant; when they sharpened once more, frustrated regret filled them. "Now of all times, I wish I still had my prophetic gift. I could look to the future and tell you if that danger is real."

Such favors had been precisely what lost her that gift. Tensions between mortal England and Ireland rose and fell, but never subsided entirely, and that colored relations between their faerie courts, as well. The King and Queen of Connacht did not want one of their seers constantly lending aid to Lune, even if the Onyx Court no longer meddled in national politics as it once did.

Reminding Feidelm of that would do no good at all. "You have more gifts than just foresight," Lune said. "What does your wisdom tell you?"

The Irish faerie bent her head, gripping her hands together. "That you and Dame Irrith are right-and even if it's unsure, we cannot risk it." She sighed, knuckles tensing. "We struggled so hard with the question of how how to do this thing that we could not spare thought for what would happen afterward. But we should have done." to do this thing that we could not spare thought for what would happen afterward. But we should have done."

The brilliance of the idea had carried them all away. Not just to stop an evil, but to turn it to good. It meant more to Galen than it did to the fae, who were already immortal; and it meant the most of all to Dr. Andrews, whose life might be saved by this means.

Lune asked, "Is Dr. Andrews at home now?"

Feidelm nodded. "With Savennis, I think. The last I heard, he insisted he'd conceived of a way to extract sophic mercury, without harming the source; Savennis was trying to find a river nymph to a.s.sist them." She exhaled, not quite a laugh. "I don't know what they think they're doing. Nothing Andrews says about it makes the slightest bit of sense. He may have gone mad in truth."

Staring at his own death so near-any man might lose his wits, even without the touch of faerie. And now Lune would have to crush his final hope.

It would be better if she waited for Galen, though. Not only did she wish to avoid undermining his authority as Prince, he was friendly with Dr. Andrews, more than any of the fae were; that might make this less cruel. In the meantime- Feidelm straightened her shoulders under Lune's gaze. "I know. Wrain and I will go into the Calendar Room. We won't give up. If this can be made safe, we'll find a way; or we'll find something else."

They still had the clouds. They still had time.

Sothings Park, Highgate: March 13, 1759 At the wedding breakfast after the ceremony, the loudest talk was of the St. Clair estate in Ess.e.x, and how it would be opened for the first time in years so that Galen and the new Mrs. St. Clair could reside there. His father and Mr. Northwood were already discussing investments, which would multiply Delphia's dowry for such renovations while still keeping portions safe for Galen's sisters, and Irene was telling anyone who would listen that her brother should breed horses once he had his own estate; but Aldgrange was the subject of immediate interest, for it was agreed upon by both families that the happy pair should remove from London at the first opportunity, and enjoy themselves in the countryside.

Fortunately, "the first opportunity" was months off yet. Aldgrange needed a good deal of cleaning and repair before it would be suitable to inhabit. Galen and Delphia would be going nowhere before the end of the Season.

In the interim, they would reside at Sothings Park, with Mr. Northwood paying for their keep there. Galen had to admit it would be both easier and more pleasant than living under his father's eye. Strange as it sounded, he was master of his own household now; if he devoted his hours to the Onyx Hall, he need answer to no one other than Delphia. And she understood.

I made the right decision, telling her. Tension might grip his heart as they walked through the gardens after breakfast, but at least none of it arose from secrecy. Tension might grip his heart as they walked through the gardens after breakfast, but at least none of it arose from secrecy.

As if thinking of that tension, Delphia tilted her head back and shaded her eyes with one hand, searching the clouded heavens. "Even if the skies were clear," Galen said, "you wouldn't be able to see it. It's too near the sun."

She lowered her hand. "Perihelion-am I right?"

"Yes." Today, the comet stood at its closest approach to the sun. In the following days, it would draw toward the Earth. Pamphlet writers and half-literate preachers had been prophesying a resulting doom for years; Galen wondered sometimes whether they had somehow divined the faerie threat. Or perhaps some Sanist had told them, in order to undermine the Queen. A fiery conflagration, destroying all life upon the Earth... he prayed it would not come to that.

This was a miserable topic to consider on his wedding day. "We're quite safe at the moment," Galen said. "Even telescopes cannot find the comet, even in clear skies. Let us turn to happier topics-ones, perhaps, that do not touch on the world below."

They rounded a hedge, and found Lune waiting for them.

The faerie Queen stood unmasked in the center of the path, silver hair shining despite the cloudy light. The sight of her sent a lance through Galen's heart: today of all days, to face the creature he adored, with his new wife upon his arm.

His pain was all the worse because Lune had obviously caused it unthinking. "I came to deliver my good wishes to you both," she said, inclining her head toward Galen and Delphia in turn.

If she was here, showing her true self, there must be half a dozen fae elsewhere in the gardens, keeping watch to ensure no one else wandered by. And more keeping her secret back in the Onyx Hall, so the Sanists would not know she'd gone. All that effort, just for good wishes. Lune truly considered it that important, to come and congratulate them on their wedding day?

Congratulations, and something more. "I have gifts to bestow upon you," Lune said. Her hands were empty; did some lady or hob lurk in the hedge, ready to hand her things as needed? No, her gifts were of an intangible sort. "For the two of you together, a promise of blessing. You need not fear losing children to illness; they will never want for good health."

Gertrude had once said the Queen did that for all her Princes' children. Fae almost never had any of their own, so the offspring of mortals were priceless wonders in their eyes. Galen bowed, murmuring thanks, and Delphia echoed him.

The Queen looked next to the new bride. "For Mrs. St. Clair, a position in my household as lady of the bedchamber-the first mortal ever to be offered such a place."

Delphia's eyes widened. Galen doubted she had expected anything at all, not for herself in particular; certainly she hadn't expected this. Ladies of the bedchamber were few in number, and close to the Queen. Even Irrith was not counted among them. Delphia sank into a belated curtsy, this one deeper than the last, and stammered new thanks.

Then it was Galen's turn. He knew Lune had promised a wedding gift, but what she might choose to give him, he could not begin to guess.

"I considered many things for you, Lord Galen," she said softly. Sorrow touched the edges of her mouth, so faintly that one who had not studied her face for years would not have seen it. "In the end, I could think of no thing better than this: to say that you may have one boon of me. Whatever you ask-whatever might please you on this day-I will grant it to you."

His heart ached so fiercely he thought it might stop. Galen was perversely glad of the pain; it kept him from speaking the words that leapt into his mind.

Give me one more kiss from your lips, as I had when you made me Prince.

He would rather have died than said it, with Delphia standing at his side. By the time his throat had opened enough to speak, he'd conquered the impulse-but that left him with nothing to say. What could he ask of her, that he wanted badly enough to spend her boon upon it? Everything he could think of was too trivial, or else would cause Delphia grief. I want to choose something neither will despise me for. Something they can be proud of. I want to choose something neither will despise me for. Something they can be proud of.

Both of them, Delphia as well as Lune. While there was no romance between him and his new wife, there was was friendship, and he wanted to be worthy of it. friendship, and he wanted to be worthy of it.

Those thoughts, here in the garden of Sothings Park where he had made certain promises to Delphia, gave him the inspiration he needed. "Your Grace," Galen said formally, "I would like to form an academy in the Onyx Hall."

Now all three of them had been surprised this day. "An academy?"

He heard the soft breath of Delphia's delighted laugh, and took heart. "Yes. A society of those who take interest in the nature of your world. An inst.i.tution that might draw to it learned minds from all lands, mortals and fae alike, for the purpose of understanding the sort of questions we've begun to ponder this last year."

Baffled though she was, Lune nodded. "If that is what you desire-then certainly." Her expression turned speculative. "In fact, it might be of some help to Ktistes, whose efforts have been sadly neglected while we addressed the problem of the comet. I wonder-"

Then she broke off with a laugh. "No. The academy, yes; but I will not trap you here discussing troubles. Not on such a happy occasion." Lune approached, holding out her slender hands; Galen took one, and Delphia the other. "My felicitations to you both, Lord Galen, Lady Delphia. Enjoy your wedding day, and may many more days of joy follow it."

Despite the myriad of good reasons he had to refrain-his wife's presence; the formality of the moment-Galen murmured what he had never dared voice before, not to the Queen's face. "Thank you... Lune."

The Turk's Head, Bow Street: March 15, 1759 Irrith was not at all sure of the directions she'd been given. Bow Street was easy enough to find, and a carved Turk's head hung above the lintel of one well-lit door, but the interior looked like a coffeehouse-not the place she sought. London had plenty of Turk's Heads, most of them selling coffee; perhaps she'd been directed to the wrong place.

Still, she went inside, and was accosted before she'd gone three steps. "How can I be of service, my fine young sir?"

Irrith transferred her suspicion to the smiling man at her elbow. "I don't think you can. I'm looking for a bath-house."

His smile only broadened. "Why, it's here, good sir!" One hand swept an inviting arc toward a door in the far wall. "The bagnio is right this way. Though I regret to say that this evening it is occupied by a party of ill.u.s.trious gentlemen and their companions. I would be happy, though, to serve you an excellent supper, and some-"

Her glare stopped him before he could say "coffee." Gentlemen and their "companions"? I'm in the right place, sure enough. Gentlemen and their "companions"? I'm in the right place, sure enough. But not well-enough dressed to pretend she belonged with ill.u.s.trious folk. And she wasn't good enough to lie her way past, even if she changed her glamour. But not well-enough dressed to pretend she belonged with ill.u.s.trious folk. And she wasn't good enough to lie her way past, even if she changed her glamour.

A simple faerie charm did just as well. Irrith dug around in her pocket and produced a golden guinea. The man's eyes bid fair to pop out of his head at the sight of it; she wondered wryly if they would sink back into his skull when he found a dead leaf tomorrow. "I bear a gift for one of the ladies," Irrith said, patting her other pocket. "On behalf of my master. I won't impose on them long."

The man made the coin vanish so fast he might have been a faerie himself, and laid a sly finger along his nose. "For Kitty Fisher, perhaps? She made quite a name for herself by that riding accident in the Mall-I've heard two songs about it already. Quite the beauty they say she is, sir, if you don't mind my saying so. Your master will have to strive against some important men to win her charms, though." And so saying, he opened the door to the bagnio.

Now it was Irrith's eyes that threatened to fall out of her head. Oh, she'd heard of these places, but had been so occupied with other matters that she never found the time to visit one. She found herself in the midst of an Oriental dream. Tiled pools, coyly separated by carved screens, sent steam wreathing through the air-a wholly inadequate veil to cover the many half-clad or altogether naked people lounging about the s.p.a.ce.

Not so many, she realized once her initial startlement pa.s.sed. Perhaps a dozen in all: three ladies, and the rest men, all enjoying a thorough debauch. One fellow floated blissfully in a pool; two others sprawled with wine and candied fruit, conversing upon some topic with much laughter. A blonde woman sat on the back of a fourth, kneading his shoulders while she whispered in his ear. The other two ladies-to grant them a t.i.tle they did not deserve-were dallying upon cushions with the remaining men. And it was there, of course, that Irrith found her target.

Once again, Carline had made no particular effort to disguise herself, aside from a thin veneer of mortality. No reason she should; her lush beauty was perfectly suited for this kind of pastime. Seduction had always been her favorite game, and she played it very well. Irrith was not surprised that her last farewell to London should be a night in a bagnio with as many handsome and wealthy men as she could manage.

Her dark-haired friend was devoting her attention to a rather unhandsome fellow, with a wide mouth and unfortunately bulbous eyes. He must have a great deal of wealth, He must have a great deal of wealth, Irrith thought cynically. Carline had taken the finest of the set, a strong-jawed man with shoulders that would look well in a tight coat and looked even better out of one. He so occupied her that she didn't look up as Irrith approached. Irrith thought cynically. Carline had taken the finest of the set, a strong-jawed man with shoulders that would look well in a tight coat and looked even better out of one. He so occupied her that she didn't look up as Irrith approached.

The unhandsome one did, though, and frowned. His companion wrinkled her upturned nose. "A friend of yours, George?"

He shook his head. Irrith offered a deep bow to them all and thought fast. The "gift" had just been an idea to get her past the owner of the bagnio, but now she had more attention than she wanted, and no good way out of it. "Good evening, my most excellent lords," she said, delaying while she scrambled for a fresh idea. Sweat was already soaking through her shirt into her coat, and nervousness did not help. "I've come in search of a, er, a lady-"

Derisive laughter greeted her stammering statement. "Miss Fisher," one of the men said in cool tones, "is not available this evening. As you can no doubt see." He gestured at the woman with the upturned nose.

"Not her," Irrith said, and pointed at Carline. "That's the one I seek. My master sent me with a gift for her."

Carline still had not looked up from her giggling play with the broad-shouldered man. "Tom," the ugly George called, and Kitty Fisher jabbed the fellow with her toe. "Compet.i.tion for your Caroline's charms."

The two broke apart, and Carline, pouting, finally turned to face Irrith. The sprite watched as understanding came to her, stage by stage: she saw first a gentleman, then someone under a glamour, and then apprehension settled in. Not knowing who lay beneath the disguise, she would be fearing the worst-as if Lune had the attention to spare for one turncoat faerie lady on her way out of London.

But Irrith could use that fear. Her hand brushed her pocket, and a dreadful notion came to her. Bowing to the broad-shouldered Tom, she said, "May I present the gift to her?"

He scowled, but Kitty jabbed him again. "Go on, Tom. Or are you afraid your, ah, purse purse isn't deep enough to keep her?" isn't deep enough to keep her?"

His scowl shifted targets, but George lifted a quelling hand, and Tom slid backward with ill grace, leaving Carline alone on her couch.

Irrith knelt before the faerie lady and pulled the box from her pocket. Then cupping it in her hands so no one but Carline could see, she cracked the lid upward.

All the blood drained from Carline's face. While Kitty and the others hooted and began speculating about the gift, Irrith murmured, "Five minutes of your time-and a bit of information. Then you can go wherever you please."

For a moment it seemed Carline would be unable to move. Then she shoved herself off the couch so fast Irrith almost fell onto her rump. "Five minutes," she said in a strangled voice. "No more." And she stalked into the far corner of the bagnio, bare feet thudding hard against the floor.

The laughter faded, and Tom regarded Irrith with undisguised suspicion. "Pardon me," she said, and went hastily after Carline before anyone could decide to interfere.

Carline waited with her arms crossed tight beneath her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, straining the damp fabric of her shift. Had Irrith been interested in such things, it might have been an effective distraction, but Carline hardly seemed to be trying. "Who sent you?" she demanded, before Irrith had even come to a halt.

"That doesn't matter. So long as you tell me what I want to know, there won't be any need for what's in that box." If Carline were thinking at all clearly, she would know that iron shot in a box was little threat; and loading the pistol in Irrith's other pocket would give her time to get away. But she had been drinking a great deal-for days now, if her servant was to be believed-and fear was louder than common sense.

Carline swallowed hard. "If you shoot me... these are important men, you know."

"I'm not going to shoot you," Irrith said impatiently. "All you have to do is tell me: who are the Sanists? Not the folk who read The Ash and Thorn The Ash and Thorn and get into fights in the Crow's Head; I mean the leaders, the ones who are plotting. They wear glamours when they meet, but I'd wager my entire cabinet that at least a few of them were your supporters when you wanted to be Queen. Who are they?" and get into fights in the Crow's Head; I mean the leaders, the ones who are plotting. They wear glamours when they meet, but I'd wager my entire cabinet that at least a few of them were your supporters when you wanted to be Queen. Who are they?"

The tension faded minutely from her hunched shoulders at the reference to a cabinet. "Irrith?"

Blood and Bone. She gritted her teeth. "Names, Carline. You're leaving anyway; it doesn't matter what you say now. I need to know who they are." She gritted her teeth. "Names, Carline. You're leaving anyway; it doesn't matter what you say now. I need to know who they are."

Carline cast a swift glance over her shoulder at the others, who weren't pretending not to watch. Kitty was whispering into George's ear. "Nianna Chrysanthe supported me. Hafdean, who keeps the Crow's Head. The fetch Nithen. Valentin Aspell."

She tried to imagine any of those under the glamours at the Grecian. "Wait-Aspell? He was working with you, that long ago?"

The lady's entire body stiffened. All artifice and pleasantry vanished.

"What do you mean, he supported you? What was he doing? Tell me!"

Muscles stood out in Carline's lovely face, her jaw clenching tight. Her eyes blazed out of that rigid mask, as if trying to communicate by pa.s.sion alone.

Irrith had to fight to draw breath. "You-you're under an oath, aren't you." No response, but of course there wouldn't be. Fae could not break their sworn words, and Carline had given hers to Aspell. Some loophole allowed her to let slip that he'd supported her-Irrith was sure that had been deliberate-but nothing more.

The sprite's mind felt like it was moving three times faster than normal. "He did more than just encourage you. He helped helped you. In ways he didn't dare let Lune find out about, so he made you swear." The answer was obvious, now that she looked for it. "He told you about the London Stone." you. In ways he didn't dare let Lune find out about, so he made you swear." The answer was obvious, now that she looked for it. "He told you about the London Stone."

Carline couldn't say anything to confirm or deny it, but her expression gave way to pity, and she put one hand on Irrith's shoulder. "You've fallen into politics again, haven't you? Poor fool. I wish you well in escaping whatever net has you now, as you escaped mine. There are some in the Onyx Hall who could stand to suffer the consequences of it."

Irrith didn't pull free. "But I-I was with them. The things I did, the things I told them-if I tell Lune-"

The fallen lady smiled bitterly. "Yes. Oaths are one way to bind people, but guilt is another. Betray them, and you betray yourself. Especially after your history with me, which will not look good at all. Be glad you have a merciful Queen. She will likely only exile you."

I'll lose London. The thought hurt, but Irrith was fiercely glad to realize that it didn't matter. And not because of the Dragon; even if there was no other danger, she would tell Lune. She was done helping Valentin Aspell. The thought hurt, but Irrith was fiercely glad to realize that it didn't matter. And not because of the Dragon; even if there was no other danger, she would tell Lune. She was done helping Valentin Aspell.

"Enjoy France," Irrith said. Then she walked very fast out of the bagnio, past the owner in his coffeehouse, and once she was out in the street she began to run.

Memory: December 21, 1705 "It's been tried, Valentin." Carline blew her breath out in a theatrical display of frustration. "You're not the sort of faerie who forgets yesterday as soon as the next day begins. People have tried to usurp the throne of the Onyx Hall before, and failed."

The serpentine lord had draped himself over her most comfortable chair in a posture that seemed to require joints where ordinary beings did not have them. "And people have also succeeded. Lune did it. Or have you you forgotten your history? She wasn't always Queen of this court, Carline. Have you never asked yourself how that change came about?" forgotten your history? She wasn't always Queen of this court, Carline. Have you never asked yourself how that change came about?"

Glaring at him, Carline sank gracefully onto her second-best chair. "Invidiana died. If you're advocating regicide, you can leave my chambers now. I have no stomach for blood."