Rian didn’t answer immediately, turning to look into the Crown Princess’ face. Serious, unsmiling.
“I don’t know,” Rian said, frowning. “Felix was raised in an atmosphere of enormous expectation, and was forever being shuttled about doing things that must have been tremendously dull for a boy, all in preparation for a stellar future. By the time I knew him he’d become a very indirect person, and rarely shared his thoughts. But still, while I don’t think he would go against Rome’s interests lightly, killing three children—any three children—wouldn’t have been a small thing for the boy I knew.”
She paused as they whisked under Three Wings Bridge, for she could not help staring up at it. Could the Crown Princess be deliberately trying to make her gape? She had to know the effect she had on people, even without the Night Breezes.
“He must have been ordered to pretend to have gone back to Rome,” she said, struggling to focus. “No wonder, with the papers full of that foreseeing. Ficus Lapis probably started to make arrangements to withdraw as soon as they read about it.”
“The Unfinished Ones.”
“Yes.” Rian stole another glance, and was treated to the clean line of Aerinndís Gwyn Lynn’s profile. “If they’re important somehow to locating or producing fulgite, then Rome would want to get them to safety as soon as possible. And yet, unless Eluned surviving the attempt on her life counts as passing one of these challenges, they must still be in play, a present danger. Even if there is some vein of fulgite under London that’s yet to be exhausted, why would they risk staying?”
Neither princess had an answer. Nor did Princess Leodhild make any attempt to dismiss or downplay what the foreseeing suggested. They returned Rian quietly to the attic at Forest House—not whisking her north to meet the Queen as she’d almost expected—and left her to contemplate being lured from safety by people she’d started to consider friends.
TWENTY-SEVEN
“Evelyn?”
Lord Msrah’s usually urbane Bound was fraying around the edges: his tunic creased, the hem of his shendy uneven.
“Arianne, I’m sorry to call so late in the afternoon. I was wondering if you had seen Lyle or Lynsey today?”
Rian looked past Evelyn to the car he had arrived in, blinked twice, then said: “No, I’m afraid not. Isn’t Lynsey at Tangleways?”
“She came up for the day. We were to meet for lunch and, well, it’s a long story. I’ll—”
The passenger of the chauffeured tiger lowered a window, and thrust his leonine head through it.
“It is more no news, then?”
“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” Evelyn said, ducking out of Forest House’s vestibule. “Yes, they haven’t been here.”
“Who is that?” Eluned whispered, poking her head around the door. It had been too much to hope that the twins would wait quietly in the kitchen. Rian had felt it too dangerous to not tell the girls at least part of what was going on, and so they’d spent the day inspecting everyone she spoke to for signs of perfidy.
“Prince Gustav,” Rian murmured as, after a brief exchange, the Swedish prince climbed out of the tiger. Very tall, very golden and, as Princess Leodhild had observed, lovely shoulders.
“Apologies I give, of course,” he said, striding forward with snapping energy to grip Rian’s hands, bowing over them briefly. “But there is no time for the niceties. My aide, and his most delightful sister, they did not bring to you the map? They did not invite you on the small adventure?”
“I haven’t seen or heard from Lyle and Lynsey at all today,” Rian said firmly.
“Map of where?” Eleri asked.
Gustav’s momentum was broken as he looked from Eleri to Eluned. “The matched set?”
“My nieces, Your Highness,” Rian said, trying to guess whether this was the lure, and then pushing the question at least briefly into the background. “Come in, please, both of you.”
She herded them firmly to the kitchen, choosing it over the sitting room she usually used for visitors because she wanted the folies as close as possible. The girls had been setting the table, and Rian added two plates, guessing that Evelyn, at least, had not spared time from searching since his friends had failed to appear for lunch.
“Now, Evelyn, take a breath and tell me in order. Why did Lyle want to talk to me?”
“It is this, of course,” Prince Gustav said, before Evelyn could speak.
The prince had discovered the collection of newspapers Rian had been studying, headlines all blaring their theories about crates of fulgite, and the destruction of the Burning Circle. Rian’s day had primarily involved reading about the consequences of the children’s adventures, and being ‘not home’ to the inevitable flood of reporters and would-be acquaintances wanting more. This had fortunately eased after lunch, so that Dama Seleny had been able to escape to her lessons.
The afternoon papers had brought new entertainments, with many pictures of the entrances to the partially constructed underground train tunnels. Fulgite was worth more than gold, and half London had reacted predictably to the possibility that it was lying about under their feet. The Courant featured a highly dramatic image of crowds pressing against hastily-erected barriers bolstered by a double line of police.
“Lyle joined the great fulgite hunt?” Rian asked.
“He investigated this at my instruction,” Prince Gustav said, prowling about the end of the table. “He is one of great resource, not of this rabble.”
“Lyle obtained a map of the projected rail system,” Evelyn put in, “and said he had found an anomaly. He was planning to call on you, to confirm his theory.”
“An anomaly?” Rian said. “What was it?”
“There is the problem!” Gustav said, spreading his hands. “He wished to check some detail, and perhaps to consult with you, and now we have no aide, and no direction.”
“Try Griff’s vampire tunnel map,” Eleri said.
That produced a neat little pause.
“Need to wake him for dinner anyway.”
“Try to keep him from running on the stairs,” Rian said, and explained ‘vampire tunnels’ as the girl departed.
By the time Eleri returned with her brother, Rian had succeeded in coaxing the two men into sitting down, and had sent Eluned out with something for the waiting driver to eat.
Unsurprisingly, Griff arrived in a glow of excited gratification, and a voluminous flutter of paper. He unceremoniously pushed aside plates to spread out his annotated maps of London, with their different coloured lines cutting beneath the printed images of London’s landmarks and houses.
“What did Lyle say exactly?” Rian asked.
“He sent me this,” Evelyn said, producing a crumpled telegram.
ROUTES CANT BE COINCIDENCE STOP COULD USE YOUR EYES BRING OWN CHISEL MEET DUCIERS MIDDAY STOP LYNSEY AND I LOOKING FORWARD RUB YOUR NOSE IN FULGITE STOP LYLE
Rian eyed Griff’s maps doubtfully. “Did Ficus Lapis choose the routes of the lines? I thought their role was coordinating the drilling and maintaining the machines.”
“They performed the geologic survey, and advised on the best locations. No final say, but they certainly had a major impact.”
“And the idea is they knew of a seam of fulgite beneath London, and made sure the tunnels went as close to it as possible? That would mean we’re looking for anything odd to suggest they were trying to get as near as possible to a particular point.”
They all stared intently at the printed arrangement of streets, palaces, gardens, museums and groves. The coloured lines of the expected rail lines cut sharply beneath it all, sometimes curving, sometimes straight. Only a small amount in the centre was coloured blue to indicate that it had been completed.