The cat rolled onto its back and admired the tiger's head on the wall as if it were its own reflection. Bancroft subsided into the leather armchair by the fire, too disheartened to argue, and put his head in his hands.

He should have been celebrating. The Baskervilles had won. There would be a procession and fireworks and speeches tomorrow. It would be a chance for the populace to admire their long-lost heir-and more to the point, it was time for Bancroft to collect his prize. Somewhere under the cat's filthy paws was an invitation to be part of Prince Edmond's household. If he played his cards right, the future held more. This was everything for which Bancroft had risked reputation, fortune, and life since the day he had left Austria and returned home.

And it tasted like ash. Oh, Adele had extended her congratulations, but he might have been the neighbor reporting that his b.i.t.c.h had whelped. Her mind was on other things and, to be honest, so was his. Everywhere he turned, everyone he spoke to had something more immediate to attend to than his elevation to the prince's retinue.

Imogen had returned to them, but with such a strange tale that he wondered if she was right in the head. The doctors proclaimed her in perfect health, but none of them could tell him if she had gone mad. Either she had, and it was a matter of time before she broke down utterly, or her twin really had dragged her inside Magnus's clock.

He wasn't sure which outcome he dreaded more, but he and Penner had dismantled the clock and burned it. The one positive outcome he could point to was that he seemed not to mind Bucky Penner half so much anymore, and the young man would marry Imogen as soon as it could be decently arranged.

And that would be as soon as they were out of mourning for Tobias. Bancroft leaned his head back against the thick padding of the chair, fighting the ache in his throat. It seemed like only yesterday that his son had stood in this very room, attempting to hide his idiot escapade with that mechanical squid he'd ridden into the opera. As if his own father hadn't known-but there were times when a parent had to pretend to be deaf and blind because that was the only way a child found his way. Not that Tobias ever had the least idea where he was going. But according to Alice, and the prince, and even Evelina Cooper, who had cried and cried when she had told the tale, he'd given his life so that they could go free. In the end, his son had been the hero Bancroft himself could never be.

His son had died in the Black Kingdom. There was another letter on the desk and under the cat and of a very different nature from the first. The Mercantile Fellowship of the Black Dragons of the Hidden Sea had written, and the letter was signed by Han Lo. All it said was, The scales are balanced, the alchemy is done. That which dwells beneath the streets shall remain below. The kingdom remains in health.

They were all phrases from the conversation they'd had about the coal. Han Lo had talked about the nature of the kingdom-alchemy, justice, and a lot of other drivel Bancroft had flushed from his mind the moment he'd walked out the door. But now he wished he'd paid attention. The Cooper girl had blathered something about the Black King's death releasing all manner of monsters aboveground, but Han Lo's letter seemed to contradict that. All Bancroft remembered was promising to do his utmost to supply the kingdom with whatever it needed to remain in good health. What could Tobias's death have achieved?

Unless it was simple revenge, as Han Lo's girl had threatened. Tobias for Han Zuiweng. A son for a son. That he could understand. Or perhaps he was inventing shadows where none walked.

The cat jumped down from the desk with a thump and trotted to the chair, yellow eyes watching him with far more personality than a cat should have. It b.u.mped against his knee and Bancroft, glad the door to the study was closed and no one could see, reached down to scratch its ears.

Dragons, Han Lo, magic-it was all dust to him. The real truth sat like lead in Bancroft's stomach. Tobias was gone and all the court favor in the Empire couldn't bring him back. A moralist would point out that he'd paid too high a price for ambition.

And for once that moralist would be right.

London, October 26, 1889.

BUCKINGHAM PALACE.

2:30 pm Sat.u.r.day.

"CAN YOU SEE anything?" Imogen demanded.

Evelina clung to the lamppost and teetered. She was standing with one foot on its blocky base, doing her best to see over the ocean of top hats and coiffures. It wasn't a ladylike stance, but the holiday atmosphere made it easy to forget good behavior. "I see them coming!"

She hopped down beside her friend. Imogen, like many of the women there, was dressed in black. Under normal circ.u.mstances, those in deepest mourning shunned the public eye, and right now many still did. Alice wasn't anywhere in sight. But these were hardly conventional times, and others had turned their grief to a defiant hope for the future. The streets around Buckingham Palace were jammed with crowds, all wanting a look at the new heir to the throne as he made his first winding procession through the London streets.

Peace finally reigned, and the city was slowly getting back to the regular business of living. Evelina had been terrified of the Black King's prediction that his death would mean packs of Wraiths-and who knew what else-roaming the streets, but none of that had happened. Nor had there been any magical disturbances once the war was over. There had been a few days of something-but that soon went away. Thankfully, the dragon had been wrong, and the magic of the kingdom had obviously somehow stabilized despite their terrible fight. It was safe to celebrate.

Imogen and Evelina had found places near the front of the pack, but there was still one row of people ahead of them-all of them tall. Fortunately, the day was cool and a little cloudy. With all the wool coats and fur collars hemming them in, it was a little bit like being stuffed into the back of a closet.

"You should be in that carriage with the prince," Imogen said, poking Evelina in the ribs. "I can't believe you declined his offer to be in the procession."

"I'll be at the banquet. That's quite enough." Evelina turned to her friend, her soul expanding with happiness to see Imogen awake and glowing with health. "I'm like Uncle Sherlock. I'd rather dispense with the accolades and get on with the next problem."

The truth was that she wanted to spend time with Imogen. She'd missed her friend deeply ever since they'd been separated more than a year and a half ago, and being at her side was worth all the applause in the world. And it only seemed right to share this moment with her friend; the last trip they'd taken to the palace was as debutantes to be presented to the queen. Coming here together, their grand adventures done, was closing a circle.

The thought brought Evelina a stab of melancholy. She'd danced with Tobias the night after her presentation. So much has changed. He should have been there, with Alice and Jeremy, rejoicing with the rest of them.

But her pensive mood receded a little when Imogen rose up on her toes, craning her neck. "Is that them?"

Evelina hopped back onto the lamppost, narrowly avoiding the elbow of another bystander. A woman was selling hot cider from a steam-driven cart, and the tangy scent of it hung heavy in the air. Evelina was tempted to wave the woman down when a flash of scarlet caught her eye. She looked up to see Prince Edmond's triumphal procession gradually coming closer. "Yes, it is!"

At first all she saw were mounted guardsmen in their bright-red coats, and then the four black horses pulling the carriage, the bra.s.s of their harnesses polished bright as gold. But as they drew closer, they turned the corner and Evelina saw the prince waving from the open carriage just yards away. Edgerton, Smythe, and Mycroft were seated with him, proving how firmly Edmond was standing by his old friends. Flanking the carriage were a number of other riders, including Nick on a large gray stallion. Evelina smiled, thinking how much he must have enjoyed a chance to ride that magnificent steed.

"I don't think Captain Niccolo is having any reservations," Imogen said slyly. "I think he rather likes the attention. And he does look fine in a uniform."

Evelina flushed at her friend's teasing look. "He deserves his share of applause."

And he did look particularly handsome in the uniform of the prince's household. The public was clearly besotted with the dashing pirate rogues who had come to their rescue, and roared with approval whenever Nick raised his hat to the people. There was already talk of a statue to the brave Captain Roberts.

Queen Victoria had insisted on a ride in the Athena, which had been repaired and restored to good humor. Today the elderly monarch would be waiting at Buckingham Palace for the speech and banquet part of the proceedings. By all reports she found her youngest son an agreeable if unconventional young man and had set about grooming him for the position of heir to the throne. The fact that Edmond had the former prince consort's interest in science and economics had raised him in her estimation.

Evelina saw Edmond lean forward to say something to one of the outriders, who then shouted a command she couldn't make out. The horses came to a halt with a snort. The crowd hailed their excitement, pushing forward. Evelina jumped down again, grasping Imogen's hand so they didn't lose each other in the milling sea of people. But good fortune was finally with her as the two men in front parted just enough to grant her a clear view.

Prince Edmond stood, raising his hands for quiet. Like a single beast, the crowd fell into an eager silence. He looked around a moment, and for the first time Evelina noticed that he wasn't wearing the tinted gla.s.ses. The change was subtle but significant, as if she could finally see him properly. He spotted her in the crowd and gave her a quick grin, but then settled his features into a serious expression.

"I know all of you have sacrificed," he said, parting his hands to embrace the sea of people. "All have struggled. Many have suffered irreparable losses."

Imogen gave a pained sound. Somehow Edmond heard it, because his bright blue gaze fixed on her with a look of honest sympathy. "It is with the greatest humility that I stand here today, because we have all paid this price. This, you and I share."

Evelina thought of the empty cavern that was Tobias's grave. He had struggled to avoid the war, hated the fact that he had built so many lethal machines. Had giving his life to save his loved ones balanced the scales for that brief moment before everything went dark? Evelina felt her throat closing with tears again, and bit her lip to keep it from trembling. If only I had been able to save him!

Edmond dropped his arms, giving a slight shrug. "I know you as I know myself. I didn't grow up in a palace. I've eaten at your tables and slept beneath your roofs, and I know what it means if the price of bread rises or the price of wool falls." He nodded, and then his voice began to grow stronger. "I know the shackles you threw off and I know why you did it. And I share in your pride in overcoming those impossible odds. Triumph belongs to us all!"

The crowd cheered in approval and a striped scarf landed on the prince's head, tossed by an enthusiast. He peeled it off and waved it like a flag. The scarf had become something of his unofficial symbol, and half the people there wore one.

"I know what you want me to do," said Edmond in a clear, carrying voice. "You want me to find a way to prosperity, but you want me to find the right way, the way of justice and foresight. You want today's dreams to sink deep roots so that in twice ten thousand tomorrows, our great-grandchildren can hold their heads high in pride."

He wound the scarf around his neck with a flourish. "Your wish is my command, because I serve every one of you. And I ask you-the heroes of this battle-to continue to serve, not just for glory or gain, but for the love of home and Empire."

Imogen blinked rapidly, as if chasing away tears. "I hope Father takes that part to heart," she murmured in Evelina's ear.

Evelina looked around, wondering where Lord Bancroft was. He'd been offered a post in the prince's administration, but hadn't accepted yet. After striving so long for just such a position, his hesitation showed how much the last few weeks had shaken even him. Evelina put an arm around her friend, glad to be able to offer at least the comfort of touch.

It was then she noticed that Nick was looking straight at her. He sat easily on the gray stallion, wearing the bright uniform with its gold and silver braid as if he had been born to it. But it was his eyes that arrested her, dark and smoking with possessive hunger. The look ignited her as quickly as match to tinder. Evelina dragged her gaze away, her cheeks blazing despite the cool air. She swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry as paper.

Edmond was still talking, his words muddling together in her distracted mind. She forced herself to pay attention. A handsome pair of eyes shouldn't rob her memories of one of the Empire's great moments-at least not for more than a few thudding heartbeats!

"And when I say that we must love the Empire, I mean all the Empire, for while the throne is the embodiment of human invention, heart, and wisdom, it is but one half of a timeless equation. The other half is the soul of the land itself."

Edmond paused, seeming to gather himself. "And when I say the land, many of you say magic, and that invokes the specter of the Steam Council's greatest injustice. Those with designs to plunder the fields and woods, the wild places and even the farmlands have long pursued a campaign of fear and superst.i.tion. They have taken what is natural and given it a demon's face, bid us shun it, and threatened any who would call it friend."

A low murmur ran though the crowd, but Edmond raised a hand again for silence.

"And yet the land forgave us. There is not one among you who does not know how the devas rose and defended us against our common enemy. It is past time we extend our hands in grat.i.tude and partnership, and make room for all-city, country, factory, and field. We have been shown what the devas can do, what machine and magic can accomplish together."

Evelina's heart lifted. She had released the devas from their bonds, but many had stayed to help build and restore the factories in a way that wouldn't destroy the land.

"The spirits offer us limitless power we can all enjoy. Power does not belong to a select few, or to those with gold, but to every citizen whether they are human or not. In partnership, we can raise the Empire to untold heights of achievement and prosperity!"

The people all around her began shouting approval, pumping their fists and flinging hats and scarves into the air. Evelina and Imogen cheered with the rest, pleased with their new prince, relieved to be delivered once and for all from the steam barons, and determined that so much sacrifice would never be wasted. Evelina's cheeks were wet, but she wasn't sure when she'd started to cry. She clapped and shouted and hugged Imogen, and then hugged the lady behind her even though they were complete strangers.

Euphoria swept her, and with it came the realization that finally she was in a world that accepted-no, needed-the balance of magic and machine she'd been trying to achieve all her life. There would be no more burnings, no more laboratories, and no more hiding. At long last, there would be harmony.

She met Nick's eyes again and he gave a slow, sensual grin, as if he knew just what she was thinking. Once they'd had to live apart because the combination of their magic might have betrayed them as magic users, but now their powers were welcomed. The incredible beauty of the silver fire they made together was private, but it, too, would have a place free from danger. She and Nick finally had a secure future.

Even the darkness in her magic had its place. She had deeply feared that power, but experience had taught her its true nature. Evelina had needed its strength to fight, but she'd always used it to protect the ones she loved. She had failed against the dragon, but it wasn't because she'd lacked courage or selflessness-those tests she'd pa.s.sed. And they'd revealed that the darkness was her weapon, not her master.

Light-headed with elation, Evelina danced where she stood, reaching skyward as if she might suddenly start to fly. Imogen grabbed her, sharing in her bounding joy. "I don't think I've ever seen you this happy!" Imogen shouted above the din.

Evelina threw back her head, laughing up to the sun. "I've been holding my breath for so long! Hiding. And now it's over!"

But the celebration abruptly ended when a great baying rang through the streets, as deep and haunting as an ancient bell. The cheering crowd fell silent, the only sound a collective gasp of terror.

"d.a.m.nation, what was that?" a man behind her muttered.

And then to the north the people began to move, a shuffle in the packed ma.s.s becoming a wedge of clear s.p.a.ce. An electric p.r.i.c.kle announced the presence of magic, and the silence around her rippled with anxious whispers.

Then she saw the ma.s.sive red-eyed hound padding through the empty avenue between the people, heading straight for the prince with a determined but unhurried step. But it stopped beside Evelina a moment. The dog regarded her steadily, and once more she recognized the ancient power within it; the spirit of the moors had found a vessel in the laboratory's prized creation.

She heard Imogen's intake of breath, and put a hand on her friend's arm. She wasn't sure what the dog would do if someone startled it with a scream.

So we meet once again, sister, it said. This time, there was mischief in its expression, almost as if it enjoyed watching the humans squirm.

"Why are you here?" Evelina asked it, startled that it had called her sister. Yet it was true that those of the Blood, like her and Nick, owed much to the spirit realm. If nothing else, their magic was related.

To greet the one who would be king, as he has acknowledged us. We have waited many a year to breathe the air of a just reign.

Evelina could smell the gra.s.sy wilderness of the moors as the words sounded in her head. Suddenly she was back there under that vast, open sky. "You protected him in the battle."

The land owes fealty to its king. Besides, he grew up in our neighborhood. With that, the hound trotted forward, its shoulder brushing her hand as it pa.s.sed. The fur was as warm and soft as any dog, but left a tingle of magic behind.

Imogen crowded close to look, her earring brushing Evelina's cheek. "What is that thing?"

"I think it's like Mouse and Bird."

"Really?" Imogen sounded unconvinced. "It's a little bit larger."

"But strangely, less grumpy."

"That's not hard," Imogen grumbled, but Evelina smiled. The two devas had bonded with her friend and refused to leave Hilliard House. Their devotion pleased Evelina no end, since she knew they would look after one another long into the future.

Several of the outriders, Nick included, drew their weapons as the hound approached, but Edmond held up a hand to stop them. Evelina could see by the set of his shoulders that the prince was tense, but he still opened the carriage door and jumped down, landing a few feet away from the dog.

The hound sat at his feet, not with the subservience of a true dog with its master, but more as one equal greeting another. The prince removed his top hat and gave a respectful bow.

Imogen leaned close to whisper. "Doesn't the hound of the Baskervilles terrify the family members to death? Or did Dr. Watson make that up?"

The story had originally been a ruse to get Evelina to the moors so that she could go free. In an odd, convoluted way, it had worked far more profoundly than anyone could have predicted. "Stories sometimes develop a life of their own," she replied softly, watching the terrifying creature give a wag of its tail. Like her dark magic, its power could protect as well as destroy. "And sometimes the things that terrify you turn out to be your best friend."

A murmur went up as the hound lifted a ma.s.sive paw. With a bemused expression, Prince Edmond shook it.

London, October 26, 1889.

PORTMORE HOTEL.

9:10 p.m. Sat.u.r.day.

THE GRATEFUL PRINCE HAD GIVEN NICK TWO THINGS: THE entire crew of the Athena was pardoned of its piratical past, and Nick was granted the best rooms at the Portmore Hotel until he decided where he wanted to call home. Officially Evelina was staying at Baker Street, but she'd been at the hotel just as much as at her uncle's. Holmes had been patient about playing chaperone, but tonight he'd given up and gone down to the common room for a pint, leaving the couple to their own devices. Evelina was grateful.

Nick looked at home lounging on the sofa of the hotel suite's parlor, but then, like a cat, he looked at home everywhere. Evelina stood at the window, studying him as he read an official-looking doc.u.ment. He'd shed his coat and his olive skin looked dark against the white of his shirt.

He raised his eyes, and they were bright with amus.e.m.e.nt. "His Princeliness has seen fit to solve the bureaucratic difficulty of my surname. Or lack thereof."

"Excuse me?" Evelina scoffed. "Isn't Captain Niccolo, Terror of the Skies, good enough?"

"He has officially declared me to be Nicholas Baskerville."

"That has a nice ring." She sat down on the sofa next to him, trying not to think of Dr. Watson's hound. "And it implies that he considers you to be family."

"As long as I don't get stuck in that b.l.o.o.d.y great hall of theirs," he grumbled, but she could tell he was pleased.

It turned out that Nick had a stack of papers from the hands of the prince's new secretarial staff. Evelina tapped the top sheet. "What's this one?"

"An official appointment. It's for both of us. He wants us to talk it over and let him know whether it suits us."

"An official appointment?" She frowned, propping herself up on her elbow. "What is it?"

"I would rather you'd been there when he explained it," Nick said apologetically.

"It's all right. I was with Imogen all afternoon, and that's exactly where I needed to be."

He nodded. "It seems that Edmond sees trouble ahead."

"Where from?"

"The Steam Council had allies and they aren't pleased with the new order. He wants someone he trusts to look into this and that."