“Actually,” Lila went on, “Your Highness, I am looking for him. Do you know where he might be?”
The queen considered her blankly and said, “He is not here.” Lila frowned, and the queen added, “But I am not worried.” Her tone was strangely steady, as if she were reciting a line that wasn’t hers. The bad feeling in Lila’s chest grew worse.
“I’m sure he’ll turn up,” said Lila, sliding her hand free of the queen’s.
“Everything will be okay,” said the king, his voice similarly hollow.
“It will,” added the queen.
Lila frowned. Something was wrong. She lifted her gaze, risking impertinence to look the queen in the eye, and saw there a subtle gleam. The same shimmer she’d seen in the eyes of the guard after he’d slit Fletcher’s throat. Some kind of spell. Had no one else noticed? Or had no one else been brazen enough to stare so baldly at the crown?
The next guest cleared his throat at Lila’s back, and she broke the queen’s gaze. “I’m sorry to have kept you,” she said quickly, shifting past the royal hosts and into the ballroom. She skirted the crowd of dancers and drinkers, looking for signs of the prince, but judging by the eagerness in the air, the way eyes constantly darted toward doors and sets of stairs, he’d yet to make an appearance.
She slipped away, through a pair of doors at the edge of the ballroom, and found herself in a corridor. It was empty, save for a guard and a young woman wrapped in a rather amorous embrace and too occupied to notice as Lila slid past and vanished through another set of doors. And then another. Navigating the streets of London had taught her a fair amount about the mazelike flow of places, the way wealth gathers in the heart and tapers to the corners. She moved from hall to hall, winding around the palace’s beating heart without straying too far. Everywhere she went, she found guests and guards and servants, but no sign of Kell or the prince or any break in the maze. Until, finally, she came upon a set of spiral stairs. They were elegant but narrow, clearly not meant for public use. She cast a last glance back in the direction of the ball and then ascended the steps.
The floor above was quiet in a private way, and she knew she must be getting close, not only because of that silence, but also because the stone in her pocket was beginning to hum. As if it could feel Kell near and wished to be nearer. Again, Lila tried not to be offended.
She found herself in a new set of halls, the first of which was empty, the second of which was not. Lila rounded the corner and caught her breath. She pressed herself back into a shadowed nook, narrowly missing the eyes of a guard. He was standing in front of a set of ornate doors, and he was not alone. In fact, while every other door in the hall stood unmanned, the one at the end was guarded by no fewer than three armed and armored men.
Lila swallowed and slid her newest knife from her belt. She hesitated. For the second time in as many days, she found herself one against three. It had yet to end well. Her grip tightened on the knife as she scrounged for a plan that wasn’t sure to end in a grave. The stone took up its murmuring rhythm again, and she was reluctantly about to draw it from her coat when she stopped and noticed something.
The hall was studded with doors, and while the farthest one was guarded, the nearest one stood ajar. It led onto a luxurious bedroom, and at the back of it, a balcony, curtains fluttering in the evening air.
Lila smiled and returned the knife to her belt.
She had an idea.
IV
Kell spat blood onto Rhy’s lovely inlaid floor, marring the intricate pattern. If Rhy himself were here, he would not be happy. But Rhy wasn’t here.
“The stone, my rose.” Astrid’s sultry tone poured between Rhy’s lips. “Where is it?”
Kell struggled to get to his knees with his arms still pinned behind his back. “What do you want with it?” he growled as the two guards dragged him to his feet.
“To take the throne, of course.”
“You already have a throne,” observed Kell.
“In a dying London. And do you know why it dies? Because of you. Because of this city and its cowardly retreat. It made of us a shield, and now it thrives while we perish. It seems only just that I should take it, as reparation. Retribution.”
“So you would, what?” asked Kell. “Abandon your brother to the decaying corpse of your world so you can enjoy the splendors of this one?”
A cold, dry laugh escaped Rhy’s throat. “Not at all. That would make me a very poor sister. Athos and I will rule together. Side by side.”
Kell’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“We are going to restore balance to the worlds. Reopen the doors. Or rather, tear them down, create one that stays open, so that anyone—everyone—can move between. A merger, if you will, of our two illustrious Londons.”