In science class she’d learned all objects constantly exchange electrons. If you sit in a chair long enough eventually the chair has all your electrons, and you have the chair’s.
Jerry Cole had taught her that.
She put her hands where Carter’s had been, trying to feel him in the book. Yet she could feel nothing beneath her fingertips but the hard, unyielding cover.
Allie gave a muffled sob.
Who knew where he was? She’d failed to keep him safe.
Failed to protect him.
I should have done something. But I lost him.
Still holding the book in her arms, she slid slowly down to the floor and lowered her head to her knees.
Carter, please be alive.
‘Allie Sheridan?’ The gruff voice was unfamiliar, dispassionate.
Allie blinked awake. The world had tilted sideways. Her cheek was pressed against the rough weave of an antique Persian rug.
Slowly she sat up and looked around blearily.
The library.
She could only vaguely remember coming in here. She must have fallen asleep. She still cradled a book in her arms.
One of Raj’s guards stood at the end of the row, his expression inscrutable. ‘Isabelle le Fanult would like you to come to her office.’
‘She would, would she?’ Fully awake now, Allie rubbed the back of her hand across her gritty eyes. ‘Well, maybe I’m not interested in talking to her right now.’
The guard opened his mouth, then closed it again. Clearly he hadn’t expected that.
‘She said it was important?’ A touch of uncertainty had entered his voice.
It’s always important, Allie wanted to snap at him.
But she didn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to take it out on him; this wasn’t his fault. She didn’t even know his name.
Heaving a sigh she waved him away. ‘Fine. I’ll go see her.’
Unable to disguise his relief, he gave a curt nod and left hurriedly, before she could change her mind.
Allie climbed to her feet – her muscles ached from last night’s fight and from sleeping on the hard floor.
Moving stiffly, she made her way out into the hallway. The windows were dark. Night had fallen while she slept. She’d been out for hours.
At the foot of the grand staircase she turned to where Isabelle’s office was tucked away, the door virtually hidden in the elaborately carved oak panelling. She paused and took a deep breath. When she felt steady enough, she tapped once.
‘Come in.’
The door swung open at Allie’s touch. The headmistress sat at her desk, a laptop open in front of her.
She glanced up briefly. ‘Please have a seat.’
Her expression gave nothing away.
Isabelle’s antique, mahogany desk dominated the small office. Two, deep leather chairs faced it; Allie sat on the edge of the closest one.
Isabelle typed with quick, sure movements, her gaze fixed on the screen. She’d changed out of her Night School gear into tailored dark trousers and a white silk blouse. A cardigan was draped across her shoulders. She didn’t look as pale as she had earlier. At first glance, in fact, she appeared almost… normal.
When the seconds ticked by and she kept typing, Allie knew a message was being sent. Isabelle was reminding her who was in charge.
As she waited, she glanced around the room. Everything was in its usual place – low cabinets lined one wall beneath a large, romantic tapestry of a knight and a maid with a white horse.
At last, Isabelle finished whatever she was doing. She closed the laptop with a decisive click and leaned back in her chair, fixing Allie with her fierce, leonine gaze.
‘Raj and Dom are working flat-out to find where Nathaniel has taken Carter,’ she said without preamble. ‘I wanted you to be the first to know that we believe he is alive.’
Something about the cool simplicity of that last sentence undid Allie. She pressed her palms against her eyes.
He’s alive. He’s alive…
Isabelle waited for a moment before continuing. ‘Please believe this: we will get him back. And Nathaniel will pay for what happened last night. We will get through this. And we will start over.’
Her tone had turned ice cold and, to her own surprise, Allie found she did believe her.
They may have been beaten in London but one thing was clear: Isabelle wasn’t giving up. Not in the slightest.
The fight was still on.
Dropping her hands to her lap, Allie raised her gaze. ‘Where is he?’
‘We don’t know that yet, but we are monitoring Nathaniel’s conversations and that has given us reason to believe Carter and the two guards are being held somewhere outside London. I suspect Nathaniel wants to use them as a bargaining chip.’
She sounded furious. But Allie’s whole body felt lighter. As long as Carter was alive she could deal with anything.
This burst of optimism came hand-in-hand with instant guilt for the way she’d behaved towards Isabelle that morning. The cruel things she’d said came back to her in a flood.
Nathaniel was the enemy. Not her.
‘Look…’ she said hesitantly. ‘About what happened this morning —’
Isabelle’s hand snapped up, stopping her.
‘Please don’t,’ she said. ‘It wasn’t your fault. I handled it very badly.’