CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

ELIZABETH PUSHED OUT of the long tunnel into a goat pen, whose inhabitants bleated nervously. She could see the Lange cottage in the distance and hear the baying of hounds.

The shadow hounds hadn’t yet re-caught their scent. Emerging after her, Visander was tearing his bandage into strips of bloody cloth, and preparing to tie them to the trees as he had done before. Elizabeth looked around the goat pen. She remembered chasing Mr Billy around with Katherine for hours after he got out and not catching him.

‘If you tie them to the goats, it will give us more time.’

Visander looked at her in surprise. But he nodded, tying strips around the necks of the goats, then hauling the wooden gate open, freeing them to run in all directions. Strange how quickly even a broken heart adjusted: she barely blinked at the sight of Katherine wading through mud, bodily heaving wood logs open, chasing out goats, then grasping a pitchfork as a rudimentary weapon.

‘We can’t escape on foot. We need horses.’ Visander spoke hefting the pitchfork. ‘They’re back at Polly’s house.’

Polly’s home wasn’t close to Mrs Lange’s, and required them to skirt the village, until they reached the horses and were away. They cantered out onto the rolling green slopes, Elizabeth urging Nell forward, and Visander riding a newly stolen bay horse, carrying the pitchfork like a knight’s lance. At first they heard the howls of the dogs echoing over the hills, but then even they faded.

They only stopped when they were hours away, in a different valley, dismounting at a stream to water the horses.

Leading Nell to the water’s edge, Elizabeth found her teeth were chattering, her mind still ringing with Mrs Lange’s words. That the Dark King was already here. Elizabeth knew what that meant. That the Dark King had been born in her cottage. That the Dark King was Eleanor’s son.

Will.

It made her feel shivery sick. She thought of all the times he’d given a casual smile. All the times he’d given the others advice and they’d taken it. He’d been lying to everyone.

He’s a liar. She’d tried to tell everyone. He’d lied to her sister. He’d lied to his friends. Lying wasn’t right. She’d told them.

‘That midwife believed that the Dark King was birthed in her house,’ said Visander, echoing her thoughts. ‘Born from one of the Queen’s descendants. An obscene violation, even for Sarcean.’

She said, thickly, ‘His name is Will Kempen.’

‘You know him? You have met with the Dark King?’ Visander stuck one end of the pitchfork in the ground as he knelt, grasping her shoulder urgently. ‘Lightbringer, has he tried to hurt you?’

Strict honesty forced her to say, ‘No.’

She thought of him high up on the battlements, sitting beside her with the wide-open marsh stretching out before them. He could have killed her then. A single hand in the middle of her back. A single push. Or the night she’d confronted him in the stables. They’d been alone together. He could have done anything to her.

He’d sat beside her and given her the medallion that had helped her, and talked to her quietly about her mother.

Lying.

She burst out, ‘He’s a sneak. He’s always sneaking around. He made my sister fall in love with him. And then she d-died.’

‘He seduced this body?’

She scowled. ‘Not exactly.’

It was hard to say exactly what he had done, except turn up, after which Katherine had spent hours gazing dreamily out the window, waiting every day for his return. She’d ridden out of the Hall after him, her whole attention fixed on him, while his had been fixed on Simon. Katherine had looked at him like he was her world, and he’d looked back at her like his world was full of secrets and concerns.

But to her surprise, Visander nodded.

‘Yes, that is his way. He grows his power in the dark. Every action looks innocent on the surface, and has dark tendrils growing beneath.’

Visander drew in a breath and appeared to look around at the countryside.

‘Tell me everything you know of him.’

Elizabeth opened her mouth to answer and then stopped. What did she really know about Will? Dark hair and pale skin and intense eyes, but no history to speak of.

She frowned and thought. ‘He does things in secret. He acts different around different people.’ She thought more deeply. ‘He’s good at thinking. Everyone does what he says, even though he’s not in charge.’ Visander’s face was growing grim as she spoke. ‘He makes everyone think he’s their friend.’

‘And his powers?’

‘He doesn’t have any.’

‘Then we may be in time.’ Visander stood, a decisive movement. ‘It is as she planned. I have arrived while his powers are still locked away. We must stop him before he gains them. Once he does, it will be too late.’

She looked up at him, at the different cast that he gave Katherine’s features. He had told her he was the Lady’s champion. But as he stood, she understood perhaps for the first time that it was true. Visander was the Light’s champion, and he was here on the Lady’s orders to stop the Dark King.

Elizabeth thought of Violet, Cyprian and Grace. They were helping Will without knowing what he was. He was tricking them. Tricking all of them.

They thought they were fighting for the Light, when they were fighting for the Dark. They were standing beside the Dark King, thinking he was their friend. A terrible pit opened up in her stomach.

‘The others, they don’t know!’

‘What do you mean?’

‘My friends. We have to warn them.’

‘Where are they?’

‘They went somewhere.’ She remembered the gate and the gash in the world. ‘They went somewhere with him. The Sun Palace.’ She tried to remember what the others had said about it. ‘It’s a place in Italy.’

‘I do not know where to find this “Italy”, but I know the location of the Sun Palace, if you will only show me a map.’

They were in the middle of nowhere, a rocky hill summit on one side, a forested slope on the other. You never knew when geography would come in handy.

Elizabeth reached into her pinafore and pulled out her homework.

It was dirty and stained, but she unfolded it and took out a pencil. On it was the half-completed map of the world that she had been copying with her tutor. She put her tongue between her teeth, and drew the last half from memory with the pencil. She thought she had it pretty well. Perhaps she had Switzerland and Lombardy in the wrong place, but that didn’t matter, did it? Underneath Switzerland, she painstakingly drew the boot outline, then shaded a bit in the middle.

‘What is this?’

‘That’s the Papal States.’ She knew Umbria was somewhere in the Papal States. ‘That’s where my friends are.’ She drew a circle around Umbria. Probably.

‘This isn’t what the world looks like. There is no ocean here, or here.’ Visander pointed.

‘Yes, there is. You must not be very good at geography.’

It was something Visander and Katherine had in common. Instead of arguing, Visander just looked troubled, with another glance around the hillside, as though all of it was foreign to him.

‘And where are we now?’

She stared at him. ‘England.’

‘Where’s that?’

She stared at him. ‘You don’t know?’

‘I do not know the names of minor human outposts.’

Elizabeth frowned, and pointed. ‘Well, it’s here.’ Even on her small map, it still looked quite far away from Italy. The Channel was in the way, and so was France. She tried not to let that dishearten her. ‘We’ll need a ship. And some money to pay for our passage. I just don’t know where to get those things. Or how.’

There was a long silence.

Visander didn’t sound at all happy when he said, ‘I do.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean,’ said Visander, ‘I know how we travel to your friends.’

‘I can’t wear this,’ said Visander.

He stared at his reflection, a wave of disorientation swelling, ready to crash and drown him.

The girl in the mirror was dressed in a white-and-lilac confection, with bows and ribbons woven through a gauzy fabric. Her satin shoes had the same lilac ribbons as her hair.

‘If Madam could explain what was wrong?’

He stared at the shop lady, thinking that the problems were self-evident. The clothes were tight and constricting. Simultaneously, they puffed out and slowed movement. The shoes had soles with no grip. As a final indignity, he had a small hat perched on his head.

‘How do I fight in it?’

He raised his arms partway to demonstrate. Any higher would split the dress.

After a few aborted slashing motions, the shop lady disappeared, and returned to hand him a frilly lilac stick.

He frowned at it, then turned to Elizabeth, only to find her speaking to the shop lady. ‘We’ll buy it,’ said Elizabeth. ‘And a dress for dinner. And a – a—’

‘Perhaps a dinner dress, three day dresses, nightclothes and some undergarments?’ said the shop lady, who had seen the state of their clothes when they came in.

‘Yes, that’s right,’ said Elizabeth, with relief.

The shop lady left to organise the purchase.

‘What weapon is this?’ Visander held the frilly stick out to Elizabeth.

‘It’s called a parasol. You carry it about.’

‘Does it work like the “pistol”?’ He turned it over, then looked at Elizabeth for confirmation, only to find her staring at him with a strange look on her face. ‘What’s wrong?’

Elizabeth said, ‘My sister liked clothes.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know. She just did. She liked dressing up in them.’

Visander looked back at himself in the mirror. It was impossible, with countless generations between them, but he looked like his Queen. The same eyes, and the face so similar it might have been twinned. It was an unsettling feeling, to look like her, to be her… . Except that his Queen had worn armour, and had carried a weapon, not a lilac stick.

And she hadn’t had this youthful innocence. Her eyes had been hard. As if everything in her had been razed, and all that was left was a hatred of the Dark King, and a determination to save what was left of her people.

‘Thank you, ladies, visit again soon,’ said the shop lady.

They emerged from the Little Dover Dress Shop onto the street, Visander in one of the day dresses, and Elizabeth in a new blue pinafore. The town was a small human enclave nestled on a harbour ringed by white cliffs. Visander had wanted to go to the ship right away, but Elizabeth had convinced him that they must blend in. That had meant these clothes, bought with money traded for Katherine’s pearls. And a hired carriage that was waiting for them. Visander turned towards it.

‘You can’t walk like that,’ said Elizabeth.

‘Like what?’

‘You have to walk more like this.’ She demonstrated a more gliding step, with her two hands clasped in front of her.

‘You don’t walk like that,’ said Visander.

‘I’m not a lady,’ said Elizabeth. ‘And you can’t talk how you talked in the shop. You have to say things like, “I hope your family is in good health”, and, “You are most kind”.’

‘Who is most kind?’ said Visander.

‘Everyone,’ said Elizabeth. ‘If you meet someone, you say good day or good evening, and you hope their family is in good health, and if you have to say something else, you say it’s remarkable weather we’re having. And you should nod your head like this.’

Elizabeth did an awkward half head bob, half curtsy. It was a ludicrous greeting. Elizabeth looked at him expectantly. He copied her without much enthusiasm, only to find himself completing the motion gracefully and with the kind of ease and muscle memory that he had not found while fighting. He rose unnerved, with his hands full of dress ruffles.

‘Like that,’ said Elizabeth, ‘and don’t kill anyone.’

They took a carriage down to the docks. The town was a harbour scooped out of chalk, with white sails clustered on its waters, those white cliffs rearing up on either side. The dark ship was striking against that backdrop, flying its three black hounds.

‘He flies the vara kishtar as his flag.’

The shadow hounds were disturbing. He felt an aversion to the ship. But what did an emblem matter when the Dark King himself was already in this world? Sarcean. Here. And he was young enough to be defeated. That thought made Visander’s heart quicken. This world had a chance if Sarcean was not at his full power, was not yet fully himself.

There was another part of him that thought, This time I know you, Sarcean. This time you are the youth, and I am the man. This time you can be stopped, and I am going to stop you.

As he made his way forward, a human he had never seen before was striding down the ship’s plank towards him.

‘Lady Crenshaw,’ the man said with a bow. And then when Visander stared back at him blankly: ‘I’m Captain Maxwell. We were introduced in London.’

‘Good day, Captain,’ Visander said, evenly. ‘I hope your family is in good health.’

‘They are in excellent health, thank you,’ Maxwell said, looking pleased. ‘What a pleasant surprise to see you and your sister.’

‘You are most kind,’ said Visander.

‘It shouldn’t be a surprise, because we’re coming on the ship,’ said Elizabeth.

Maxwell blinked. ‘Did I hear correctly that you—’

At that moment, a second carriage pulled up, one that Visander knew well, with its shiny black patina, and its four black horses polished to a high gleam.

Phillip stepped out, and Visander took him in anew, his youthful looks and his tumble of black hair. He was dressed in long pale breeches and a black coat, with shiny boots and a tall hat that sat perfectly on his head.

Phillip’s eyes met his.

‘You!’ Phillip did a double take, then turned white. Looking for a way out, he found none on the pier. He looked like he wanted to clamber back into the carriage but couldn’t, having already been spotted by the captain.

‘Lord Crenshaw,’ said Captain Maxwell. ‘You didn’t tell me that your lady wife and her sister would be joining us on this voyage.’

Before Phillip could open his mouth, Elizabeth ran over to clasp his hand and said loudly, ‘Uncle Phillip, you’re here!’

‘‘Uncle Phillip’!’ said Phillip, utterly outraged.

Elizabeth didn’t let go of his hand. ‘You said you would show us the cabins, and that I’d get first pick.’

‘Now see here—’

Visander stepped up and took Phillip’s arm that Elizabeth wasn’t holding. The apple knife, still in his possession, dug its point into Phillip’s rib cage.

He felt Phillip go very still.

‘Remarkable weather we’re having,’ said Visander.

There was a moment when he felt Phillip hesitate, and he pressed the knife in harder.

‘Well, uh, we couldn’t bear to be parted,’ said Phillip, smiling weakly at Maxwell.

‘Young love,’ said Maxwell, shaking his head ruefully.

Inside the cabin, Phillip immediately spun on his heel. ‘What the deuce are you doing here? You were supposed to have run off, and good riddance!’

‘Your ship will take us to Italy,’ Visander said. ‘The girl and I have business there. If you stay out of our way, you will come to no harm.’

‘Oh, you speak English now, do you?’ Phillip said. ‘Well, you might’ve spoken it before!’

‘Believe me,’ said Visander, ‘if I could have stayed away from you, I would have. We simply need your vessel.’

‘I’m just supposed to play along? What’s to stop me from tying you up and sending you right back to my father?’

In two strides, Visander was across the cabin, his hand around Phillip’s throat.

‘Foul creature. You are lucky I do not kill you where you stand.’ Visander said, ‘You serve the Dark King. It would satisfy me to slay his liegeman. Since he slaughtered so many of my kind.’

‘I see you only speak English to make threats. How perfectly typical of you.’ Phillip’s hauteur didn’t seem at all affected by Visander’s hand around his throat. ‘Is everyone from the old world a scoundrel, or just you?’

‘A scoundrel!’ said Visander. ‘You tied me to you in a human ceremony against my will!’

‘D’you think I wanted to marry a soldier from a dead world? I didn’t!’

‘You can’t tie us up, Captain Maxwell is expecting us for dinner,’ said Elizabeth.

Visander turned to look at her. After an interval of Elizabeth staring back at him from under her frown, he let go of Phillip reluctantly.

He watched as Phillip straightened his shirt points, then ran a finger around the inside of his collar. ‘Well, we’re stuck here,’ said Phillip. ‘And you can’t have first pick of rooms, because this is all there is, you little brat.’

‘Do not speak to her that way, or my hand on your neck will seem like a kindness.’ Visander was stepping forward, only to find Elizabeth and her frown in his path.

‘You said you wouldn’t kill anyone.’

‘I said no such thing, and I will certainly kill him if he endangers our mission.’

‘Better that than ruin another of my cravats,’ said Phillip, lifting a hand to wave him off. ‘I’ll take you to Italy. It doesn’t seem that I have much of a choice. But it won’t do you any good.’

‘What is that supposed to mean?’ Visander glared at him in suspicion.

‘My father has opened the palace,’ said Phillip. ‘By the time we arrive, there won’t be an Italy.’