“Sir, we have to do something. You saw Quartz. They aren’t doing well here. They are ill—”

Mr. Darwin’s bushy brows drew together.

“They are simply reaching maturity, Covington. Fully grown, you can expect them to be less playful. They may be slower during cooler weather—”

“They are not fully grown,” I interrupted in a hissing voice, flushing at my boldness but not able to stop now. “They are all babies, you know they are … and they are ill! They will grow to the size of a … a … whale!”

Mr. Darwin’s eyes flashed. He glanced around at the keepers who had stepped away and were politely getting on with cleaning a corner of the enclosure, pretending not to listen.

“Covington, I thought I had very clearly explained the consequences of this manner of talk,” said Mr. Darwin. “My reputation is at the most delicate stage—”

“It is the truth, sir. You have to help them,” I said, meeting his eyes, pleading, dismayed to feel a sob in the back of my throat. “We have to send them … back.”

“Back? You don’t know what you are asking—”

“Mr. Darwin, sir,” a park warden in black uniform interrupted.

“What is it, man?” snapped Mr. Darwin. I had never heard him speak like that to a stranger before.

“I am afraid you must leave,” said the warden.

“Impossible. We have only just arrived, and have important scientific work—”

“Nothing I can do, sir. The park must be empty for this particular guest—”

“Thank you, Chatham, that will do. These are no ordinary visitors,” interrupted a new voice, clear and high as a bell, and with a clipped upper-class accent I’d rarely heard the like of.

I turned at the same time as Mr. Darwin. Outside the enclosure stood a woman dressed in an apple-green silk gown, sparkling with fancy embroidery. She tipped back her lace parasol to reveal a serious girlish face, framed with glossy brown ringlets. A retinue of guards and companions gathered behind her.

“Your Majesty,” Darwin stuttered, bowing deeply.

It was Victoria, the Queen of England.

“Your Majesty,” I repeated and bowed too, painfully aware of my muddy gaiters, peasant’s neckerchief, and rough waistcoat. I was dressed for an animal enclosure, not a royal visit. Mr. Darwin had mentioned that the new queen herself had taken an interest in the dragons, but I hadn’t dreamed we would see her here. The coronation had only been little more than a year ago and she looked younger in person than I had expected. Our queen was yet to turn twenty, closer to my age than to Mr. Darwin’s.

“You are Mr. Darwin’s servant, the boy who found my remarkable dragons in their eggs?” she said.

“Yes, ma’am,” I managed, bowing again but thinking of the word “my.” She was staking her claim.

“Well, come forward, no need for ceremony. I am sure I was the last person you were expecting to see. What is your name again? I will speak with you and your master both.”