‘I fully intend to come back to you. There, are you satisfied?’ Her words in the Language were a promise to herself as much as to them. She would have liked to complain that she didn’t know why they were so annoyed, for she was the one who was going into danger. But honesty compelled her to recognize that if they’d been the ones going, then she would have done her utmost to follow them. Honesty was most unhelpful: it got in the way of a satisfying whine of complaint at their overprotectiveness and made her feel like the one at fault.
‘Not remotely satisfied.’ Kai pulled her into a hug, his grasp almost tight enough to hurt. ‘I know I can’t talk you out of this,’ he murmured in her ear. ‘But when you get back, we are going to discuss the future.’
Irene sighed, returning the embrace, trying to convince herself that she was only doing it from habit and not because she actually needed the comfort. ‘Just make sure there’s brandy,’ she murmured back.
Kai released her. But Li Ming was stepping forward, his face set in unusually stern lines. Ordinarily he was content – or at least seemed content – to be a figure in the background, merely offering Kai his advice. Maybe he had some vital suggestion to offer?
‘This is quite unthinkable, Miss Winters,’ he said. The room was abruptly colder, and the ether-lamps whined in their sockets like dying flies as they flared bright and translucent. ‘You cannot possibly go.’
That was not a helpful suggestion. ‘It seems the best option,’ Irene began.
Li Ming made a brief cutting gesture with one hand. It would have suited a judge’s pronouncement of a guilty verdict. ‘The Fae’s untrustworthy. Even if she swears she’s telling the truth, she’s not reliable. You’re risking yourself and all those who depend on you. My lord would not approve of your taking this step. I don’t approve of it.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Irene said. ‘I appreciate your opinion, but—’
‘This is no longer a time for courtesy.’ The familiar scale-patterns flowed across Li Ming’s skin like ice on the surface of a river. The windows rattled as the wind rose outside. He was beautiful, remote, untouchable and utterly certain of what he was doing. ‘I will not permit this folly to take place.’
‘That’s not your decision to make,’ Irene snapped.
‘Any rational being has a right and a duty to stop you committing suicide.’ The cold wind had a biting edge now, harsh with the taste of oncoming winter and frozen streams. Irene had never really wondered how powerful Li Ming might be. He’d always been acting the servant or the counsellor, staying in the shadows. That might have been a serious mistake on her part. ‘You are a junior servant of the Library. This duty should be left to others. My lord would forbid you to take this action. Your highness, help me restrain her.’ Zayanna was shivering, folding her arms around herself. Rage warmed Irene: she looked sideways to Kai, letting him respond.
But Kai hesitated.
Irene realized how clear it must seem in his eyes. The logic would be beautifully tempting. Irene was endangering herself: her judgement was faulty, her assessment of the situation incorrect. He should stop her for her own good. He would be serving the Library by keeping her safe. It all made sense, and it was still the most profound sort of betrayal that he should even be thinking it, that he could look at her and entertain those thoughts and not be ashamed.
Irene turned to Li Ming. ‘You may try to restrain me,’ she said, her voice as cold as the rising wind. ‘You will not succeed. I must be on my way. Zayanna.’ She grabbed the Fae’s wrist.
Li Ming nodded, as if he wasn’t surprised, and extended a hand to grasp Irene’s shoulder.
Kai caught his wrist a moment before Li Ming touched her. The chill that sheathed Li Ming’s hand brushed Irene’s skin like fresh snow, and she pulled away, dragging Zayanna with her.
‘Wait,’ Kai said, and all the subtones of hierarchy and command were suddenly in his voice. But he was saying it to Li Ming, not to her. ‘She has my permission to do this.’
‘Your highness, this is folly . . .’ Li Ming protested. Irene glanced over her shoulder as she and Zayanna hurried to the door and saw that even though neither dragon moved, they were locked in position as they struggled against each other. This wasn’t mere courtesy. It was two forces of nature, both looking less human by the second, as scales marked their skin and their eyes gleamed draconic red. The wind outside howled, denied its target.
Irene didn’t waste any more time. With a nod of farewell to Vale and Singh, she was out of the room and rattling down the stairs, Zayanna right behind her.
The street outside was full of wind: it rolled through like a physical thing, rattling windows and slamming shutters, ripping the fog away to show the lightening sky. Irene hadn’t let go of Zayanna, for fear that she might vanish around a corner and never come back. ‘So how do we get there?’ she asked.
Zayanna sighed. ‘You take my hand and we walk, darling. Or perhaps we just keep on running. I can’t manage a horse, much less a carriage. I’m afraid it’s going to be tedious.’
‘You can tell me about Alberich’s sphere as we go,’ Irene suggested. They turned left down a dark side alley. It was the sort of place that Irene would normally avoid, but Zayanna sprinted down it without a moment’s hesitation.
‘It looks mostly like a library,’ Zayanna gasped. ‘I’m not sure whether it originally looked that way, if he made it look that way, or if it’s getting to look that way because it’s moving into the place of your Library. I told you that metaphysics really isn’t my thing. So confusing.’ She turned left, into another side street. This had slick grey concrete walls that reached further above their heads than should have been possible in that area of London. The wind had gone, and the air was still and hot, stinking of oil.
‘Well, does Alberich have guards?’ Irene asked.
‘I didn’t see any.’ Zayanna frowned a little, a thin line between her elegant brows. She’d slowed her pace from a run to a fast walk. ‘I mean, there were a few people there, but they were just people. You know – or have you never been that far into chaos before? When you go too far in, normal humans don’t have very much real personality. They’re awfully responsive when they’re needed for background parts, but they don’t have much staying power, if you take my meaning. They’re not as meaningful to work with as other Fae, or even dragons or Librarians like you.’
Irene mentally shuddered at the thought. People with no genuine personality of their own, simply walk-on scenery or character parts for Fae psychodramas. ‘You should be careful,’ she said sardonically. ‘At this rate you’ll be convincing yourself that if the Fae did win, and chaos took over all the worlds, you’d still ultimately have lost – by missing out on all those interesting interactions with other people. It sounds rather self-defeating.’
‘Maybe, darling, but we’re hardly the only contradictory ones.’ Zayanna turned left again, her frown deeper. They were walking between grey stone walls, the cobbles beneath their feet damp with the morning dew. Lilac overhung the walls, its scent sweet in the morning air. ‘What was Li Ming saying about places which are so orderly and mechanical that even dragons or humans can’t exist? People do keep on talking about wanting a war, so that their side will win. But ultimately all they really want is for their side to be a bit better off. Nobody wishes for their side to triumph completely.’ She paused, considering that statement, and clarified it. ‘Nobody sane, that is.’
‘Ay, there’s the rub,’ Irene muttered. She tried to remember where in Shakespeare that was from. Hopefully not one of the tragedies. ‘I wish I was simply back amongst the books again.’
‘We could go hunting books after this,’ Zayanna suggested. ‘We’ll steal them from that silver dragon’s private library—’
‘Oh no we won’t,’ Irene said hastily, before Zayanna could make that bad idea any worse. ‘Besides, you can’t be a Librarian.’