Page 25 of The Dawn Chorus

Beyond the window, Paris waited. I was a queen in London. Here I was no one. I might have a reputation, grown in whispers, but rumour was one thing. Respect was another.

My father had promised we would come here one day. Jaxon, too, had vowed to show me Paris. He had often waxed lyrical about the refined and cunning voyants of this citadel, who called themselvesanormales, oranormaux. Theirs was an old and intricate syndicate. Though it had once enjoyed a genial relationship with London, the two communities had been all but estranged for over a century. Jaxon had told me only that a three-way love affair, a poisoned trifle and a cocker spaniel were involved.

The old Paige would have itched to be outside, discovering it all. The streets and rooftops were where I belonged. As it stood, all I wanted to do was huddle indoors and keep warm.

‘Paige.’

I flinched, slopping coffee down my front. Warden stood in the doorway.

‘Forgive me,’ he said.

‘It’s okay.’ Cheeks burning, I dabbed the mess with my sleeve. ‘I meant to ask. Have you checked if Burnish is still reading the news?’

‘She was this morning.’

‘Good.’

He lowered himself into the armchair. Lightning flickered again, brighter than before.

‘On the way to Dover,’ he said, ‘Burnish told me that Scion means to invade Portugal and Spain. Operation Madrigal. It will be announced to the public on the twelfth of January.’

My heart pounded. ‘There were Spanish emissaries in the Archon,’ I said. ‘Jaxon told me Weaver was trying to persuade them to convert bloodlessly, like Sweden.’

‘Spain has a popular monarchy. Under Scion, the royal family would, at best, be forced to abdicate.’

At worst, they would lose their heads.

‘We knew this was coming,’ I said. ‘We saw the preparations for war.’ I put my mug aside. ‘Abel Mayfield is remembered for defeating Ireland. Weaver has yet to live up to that legacy. Unusually brave of him to still go ahead now Vance is out of action.’

‘Nashira favoured Weaver because he was quiet, efficient and obedient,’ Warden said, ‘but he has failed to dismantle the Mime Order. Conquering the Iberian Peninsula would earn back her favour.’

Rain washed down the windows. The sound of it drew my hand into a fist, tight enough for my nails to dent my palm.

‘Paige,’ Warden said quietly, ‘if you are willing to tell me, I would know what Scion did to you.’

My fingertips pressed into the mug until it hurt.

‘They tortured me,’ I said.

‘I assumed as much.’

‘What more is there to say?’ My voice was curt. ‘Why could you possibly need particulars?’

‘To better understand.’

‘You don’t need to understand.’ I looked away. ‘I don’t want to talk about it. Ever.’

Thunder crashed outside, closer. I could sense his gaze on my face.

‘I will let you rest,’ he finally said. ‘Call if you need anything, but do not strain your voice. Use the cord.’

‘Like the cord ever works when we need it.’

‘Try.’

He switched a lamp on before he left.

As I curled up on my side, jaw clenched in discomfort, I thought of Liss, and the sixth card in the reading she had done for me.