The Burning Page

‘That’s not a very detailed plan.’ But Kai wasn’t complaining, simply resigned.

‘There have been times when I had detailed plans,’ Irene said wistfully. ‘I look back at them and wonder why I never realized how lucky I was.’

They’d reached the ground floor and were heading for the stairway they’d descended earlier, when the same servant as before caught them. This time he had several other guests in his wake and was clearly chivvying them along. ‘Sir!’ he expostulated in Kai’s direction. ‘Her Imperial Majesty is about to give her address. You should be in the Great Hall.’

Kai glanced at Irene, and she read the same thought in his eyes. Better to go along and blend in with the crowd than make a scene. They could edge out later and get back to the search. And it really would be suspicious to be caught elsewhere in the Winter Palace while the Empress was giving a speech. ‘Thank you,’ he said to the man. ‘I was just heading in that direction. I take it this is the quickest way?’

The servant refrained from rolling his eyes at the boundless idiocy of the aristocracy and quickly led Irene, Kai and the rest of his flock down a succession of corridors, each more luxurious than the last. They accumulated more bystanders on the way, and Irene was grateful that she and Kai could hide in the middle of the growing crowd.

The Great Hall itself was vast: the floor consisted of inlaid marble mosaics, but the walls and ceiling were white and gold, as perfect as snow and sunlight. Huge blazing chandeliers hung from above, the candlelight glaring off the gilt so brightly that they were a challenge to behold. At the far end of the chamber, over fifty yards away, a throne on a raised dais was canopied and draped in scarlet. The silver dress of its occupant seemed to gleam with its own light.

Between them and her, the crowd shifted and jostled for position. Young maidens in their first season at court were in plain white, with ostrich feathers and flowers pinned into their hair, and huge masses of silk skirts. Older women like Irene, or married ones, wore pastels or deeper shades – and jewellery rather than flowers. Most of the men present were in military uniform, often with a dress sword hanging at one hip and a short staff at the other. A few were either in well-cut civilian clothing, like Kai, or in robes that were somewhere between academic and ecclesiastical. Some older women wore those robes too, and Irene noticed that they generally stood apart from others of their gender. Around the edges scurried servants in the palace livery, but nobody was looking at them: all attention was on Her Imperial Majesty.

As the last group was shooed into the Great Hall, the Empress rose to her feet. Everyone went down on one knee, from the advisors surrounding her dais to the guards by the entrance. And it wasn’t just overdone obeisance, or the effect of magic. The Undying Empress, to give her the full title, had genuine presence and charisma. The loyalty that the crowd offered her wasn’t feigned. Irene had been in the presence of dragon kings and Fae lords, and while she wouldn’t rank this Catherine the Great’s authority on quite that level, she was still extremely impressive.

Fortunately the Empress wasn’t in the mood for a long speech. After a few firmly delivered statements about the unity of her empire, the loyalty of her subjects and her maternal love for said subjects, she resumed her seat. Everyone promptly rose to their feet, conversation broke out like wildfire, and the small orchestra in a corner of the room started playing.

‘Irene . . .’ Kai said hopefully.

The only way out of the hall was the way they’d come in. Well, there was another exit behind the Empress, but that wasn’t an option. And it would be too obvious if they tried to get away immediately. ‘We just circulate,’ Irene said firmly. ‘I’m not dancing unless we have to.’

Kai sighed and offered her his arm as they began to drift round the edge of the hall, catching snippets of conversation. While this included topics normal for any state occasion – upcoming wars, family history, possible betrothals, big-game hunting in Mongolia – there was a nervous edge to the talk. People weren’t precisely paranoid, but every so often spontaneous praise for the Undying Empress and her glorious empire would get thrown into the talk, as though it would grease the rest of the conversation and slip it past any listeners.

There was a noticeable gap in the crowd ahead of them. At the centre of it stood a man in formal clothing like Kai’s, having a casual conversation with some of the robed men and women. At least, it looked casual on his part. From their attitudes and posture, one might think it was a matter of life and death.

‘What do you think?’ Kai murmured. ‘High authority, definitely, but which area?’

‘Secret police,’ Irene answered. ‘Think nice innocent thoughts—’

She broke off as the man turned to sweep his gaze across the ballroom. He was nobody she’d ever met before. His flaxen-pale hair was cropped short and he was clean-shaven. And though he was middle-aged, he showed no signs of belly or jowls. His eyes were a clear grey, as cold as marble, and they looked out over the crowd with a glitter of absolute hunger: for power, for answers, for domination. But there was something about those eyes that she recognized, and she added it to the man’s posture, the way he tilted his head, the way he looked at her . . .

‘Alberich,’ she breathed, her throat dry with terror.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

He had stolen a new body, looked quite at home here and knew exactly who they were. Surely this was positive, Irene tried to convince herself, as she tried not to panic. It was an unparalleled opportunity to get information – maybe even to end the whole threat, here and now. She should think optimistically.