“Dear God.” James staggered to the washroom. Thankfully there was water in the pitcher, and a bar of sandalwood soap. He scrubbed himself down hastily and rinsed his hair. Feeling less revolting, he went into the dressing room, threw on new clothes, and returned to the bedroom, where Matthew sat on the foot of his bed with his legs crossed. He handed James a mug of tea without a word—exactly the way he liked it: strong and sugared, with no milk.

“Where did you produce that from?” James wondered aloud, accepting the mug.

Matthew hopped to his feet. “Come along,” he said. “Food has been laid on in the breakfast room. Let us sample some of Bridget’s delicious eggs and I’ll explain.”

James eyed his parabatai with suspicion. Bridget’s eggs were famously awful. “Explain what?”

Matthew made a hushing gesture. Rolling his eyes, James slid his feet into shoes and followed Matthew through the winding corridors to the breakfast room, where food was still laid out. A silver urn with now-cold coffee in it, plates of veal chops, and James’s least favorite, kedgeree. He settled at the table with a plate of mushrooms and toast. His mind felt surprisingly clear, as if he had come out of a strange fog. Even the toast and mushrooms tasted different.

He frowned. “Something’s happened,” he said, realizing how quiet it was. Only the sound of clocks ticking in the Institute. The corridors had been devoid of people. He stood and went to the window, which looked out over the courtyard. It was empty of carriages. His grip tightened on the sill. “Matthew, has anyone—”

“No,” Matthew said quickly. “No, Jamie, no one else has died. The Enclave decided to move the wounded to the Silent City. They were too ill to be Portaled there, so your parents are helping with the task, as are Christopher’s. Even Charles has loaned our carriage.”

“And Grace?” said James. Her name felt odd in his mouth, as if it had acquired a new sound. He remembered the sick pain he had felt the day before, propelling him out into the dark. A feeling as if his chest were cracking apart, his bones splintering. He did not feel it now. He remembered the pain, but intellectually, not physically. It would surely come back, he thought. He should brace himself while he could.

“The Pouncebys have taken her in,” said Matthew. “They are in Highgate, near the entrance to the Silent City. She will be able to visit her mother.” He paused. “She will be all right, James.”

“Yes, I trust she will,” said James. “And Lucie? Does she know what’s going on?”

Matthew looked surprised. “Yes, but—did you hear what I said of Grace?”