Nadiya only smiled. “Your father is powerful in other ways.”
Ren took this in, rocking heel to toe on the side of the chair. “If I don’t get magic,” she said, “can I still have my animals?”
A smile caught the edge of Rhy’s mouth.
“Of course you can,” said Nadiya.
Ren nodded thoughtfully, and said, “That would be okay.” With that she hopped down, made to flee the table, but Sasha caught the child, guiding her back to her chair.
“You don’t need magic,” said the nursemaid, “but you do need breakfast.”
An easy quiet fell over the room as they ate.
Alucard took it in. When he was young, a set table was a dangerous thing. His father looming at the head. His brother across. His sister beside. No chair for their mother—no space for sentiment. Those scenes, a reminder that looking like a family was more important than being one.
That table was full of traps he could not see, ones just waiting to be triggered.
Sit straighter. Speak up. Do not use that tone with me.
There was no joy in those meals, only expectation, and Alucard could not wait to be excused, the air rushing back into his lungs only when he was free of that room.
But as he looked around the table now, his chest grew tight for other reasons.
This, he thought, this was a family. An odd one, perhaps, a strange and different shape, and despite Rhy’s moaning and the queen’s distraction and Ren’s restless squirming as if she were a pet trying to escape, while Sasha tried first to goad and then to bribe her into eating, there was nowhere else Alucard would rather be.
Everyone he loved most was seated within reach. He laced his fingers through Rhy’s, and gave a gentle squeeze. And Rhy looked down as if Alucard’s hand there was a gift, some unexpected but wholly welcome surprise. He brought it to his mouth, and kissed his knuckles.
Alucard smiled, and sipped his tea, and did his best to savor the moment, knowing it wouldn’t last.
And it didn’t.
Ren was the first to break away. Having been coaxed to eat an egg, and some toast, and half an apple, the child finally escaped, and flung herself toward the courtyard doors, Sasha on her heels.
Their daughter’s presence was a clasp, holding them together. Without her, Nadiya rose, and made her excuses, collecting her papers and a sugared roll as she drifted up to bed.
Their family peeled away like petals until it was just the two of them at the laden table. Even that didn’t last long. Before the tea had time to cool, Isra arrived, her short gray hair scraped back and her guard’s helm under one arm.
“Your Majesty,” she said, bowing her head. “The merchants are here, to discuss the import rules for the Long Dark Night.”
Alucard frowned. “Sel Fera Noche? You can’t intend to go ahead with that—”
“Oh, not you, too,” said Rhy, dragging himself to his feet. Before Alucard could point out what a monumentally stupid idea that was, the king had snatched a sweet bun and followed Isra out.
Alucard sighed, alone now, save the four servants posted like pillars around the edges of the room. Waiting to be summoned with a look, or simply an empty cup.
“You can go,” he said, dismissing them all.
He told himself it would be nice, to have a moment’s peace. But in the silence, his thoughts took hold. Alucard sat back, eyeing the mountain of food before him, as his appetite dissolved. His mind tried to latch on to Sel Fera Noche, but the festival was weeks away, and at the moment, they had a far more pressing problem. His conversation with Lila replayed through his mind, the threat of the Hand now amplified by their possession of a persalis.
He bowed his head, resting it on his laced fingers as he tried to think.
They could remove the royal family from the palace, but what message would that send?
Footsteps shuffled into the room.
“Sir,” said a voice. Alucard glanced up, expecting a servant. Instead, he found a young soldier, with hair long enough to be braided, and bright brown eyes, and a coil of earthy magic in the air around him.
He searched his memory for the young man’s name. “Velastro.”
The soldier blushed, and ducked his head. “That’s right, sir,” he said in Arnesian. “Apologies for intruding on your breakfast.”
Alucard looked around at the empty chairs. “You’re forgiven. What brings you to me?”
“You gave orders to report any activity by the Hand.”
His stomach sank. “And?”
“Four more marks were found last night, tacked across the city.” The soldier produced a map, the symbols crimson dots scattered across the south half of the city. Another mark, this one an X, marked the map not far from the palace.
“And this?”
“A dead body was found propped against a wall, a crown drawn in blood over his head.”
Alucard swallowed. “Not exactly subtle.” He rolled the map back up. “Anything else?”
Velastro hesitated. “I’m—not sure.” He shifted his weight. “You asked for news of anything strange. Well, I was on patrol this morning, in the shal, and it seems a building collapsed overnight.”
Alucard waited, unsure where he was going.
“Well, it’s just…” Velastro searched for the words. “The houses on either side were perfectly intact.”
“Could be a fight gone wrong,” said Alucard. “A drunk magician out of hand?”
“Right, right,” said the soldier. “But the thing is, I’ve got a knack for earth and stone, and when I was a kid, well, I didn’t have the best control. I’m not saying I knocked over any buildings, but…”
“You know what a building looks like when it happens to fall down?”
Velastro flashed a nervous smile. “Right. And the way the building fell, it’s like it fell in, right? Like someone dragged it down on top of them.”
“A spell gone sideways?”
“That’s what I thought!” he said brightly, adding quickly, “Mas arno. Or a targeted attack. But if that’s true, there should be bodies. And there aren’t. We’ve cleared the rubble enough to search, and there’s no one inside, and it just doesn’t feel right, and I heard you can see things that others can’t, and I don’t have that gift but my gut says there’s more to it, and I told my squad leader and she told me it was nothing. And maybe it is nothing, or maybe it’s not nothing, but it’s not the kind of something you need to hear about either.…” The longer the soldier talked, the more he stumbled. “But it’s probably nothing.”
It probably was nothing, but Alucard didn’t have any other leads, so he swallowed the last of his tea, and got to his feet.
“Show me.”
IV
Kell’s boots sounded on the Sanctuary floor.
It was the kind of place where noises echoed, every rustle of fabric and heeled step bouncing off the cool stone walls. Kell changed his stride, tried to walk as Lila had taught him, with the quiet of a thief. The sound vanished, as if drawn into the rock, and he smiled, imagining the quirk of her own mouth, her pride parading as amusement.
As for where she was at present, he had no idea.
He’d gone to the inn, first, hoping to find her waiting in their room; hoping, but knowing better—Lila Bard waited for no one. Sure enough, she wasn’t there, and he tried not to feel left behind, knew that she could move through this city in a way he could not, so he had decided to go to the one place he knew she would not. He’d changed his coat, trading royal red for common grey, and put on a cap, smothering the flame of his hair, and if he did not become Kay, well, at least he was not entirely Kell Maresh as he set out for the Sanctuary.
The city of London was always changing.
Magic made it easy. Buildings rose and fell, as fickle as the season’s taste in fashion. Pleasure gardens became theatres, and theatres became arcades, and arcades became plazas, and so on, and so on.
Only two things ever seemed to hold their shape.
The first was the royal palace.