James looked at his friends, wanting to reassure them—it doesn’t mean anything, there could be any sort of reason for it to happen, I’m sure it isn’t important—but the words died on his lips. The bleakness of the place was still too close to him, the acid taste of the air, the distant fortress shrouded in smoke.

Someone had wanted him to see it, he thought. And it was unlikely to be someone who wished him well.

“I know,” he said at last. “That’s what I thought too.”

The air outside was so cold it seemed to shimmer as Cordelia, tipsy and giggling, clambered down from the Institute carriage and waved a vigorous goodbye to Lucie. Behind her, Cornwall Gardens was dark and shuttered. “Thank you for the party surprise,” she called, closing the carriage door. “I never expected to spend the night before my wedding playing tiddlywinks with werewolves.”

“Did you think they were cheating? I thought they were cheating. But it was terribly amusing regardless.” Lucie leaned out the open window and blew Cordelia a dramatic kiss. “Good night, my dear! Tomorrow I will be your suggenes! We will be sisters.”

Cordelia looked momentarily anxious. “Only for a year.”

“No,” Lucie said firmly. “Whatever happens, we will always be sisters.”

Cordelia smiled and turned to go into the house. The front door had opened, and Lucie could see Alastair in the doorway, holding an upraised lamp, like Diogenes looking for an honest man. He nodded at Lucie before pulling the door shut behind his sister; Lucie tapped the side of the carriage, and Balios started up again, the sound of his hooves like muffled rain against the snowy ground.

She sank back with a sigh against the blue silk seat, suddenly tired. It had been a long night. Anna had slipped away an hour or so after midnight with Lily, a vampire from Peking. Lucie had stood firm—she’d wanted to remain at the Ruelle as long as Cordelia was amused; she knew her friend was half dreading the next day. She couldn’t blame her. Not that people didn’t get married for all sorts of reasons of expediency rather than love, but even if it was temporary, it was very dramatic. Cordelia would have to put on quite a performance tomorrow, as would James.

“Penny for your thoughts,” said a low voice. Lucie looked up, her mouth curling into a smile.

Jesse. Sitting opposite her, his face illuminated by the rosy glow of the carriage lamp that filtered through the window. She had trained herself not to jump when he suddenly appeared between one moment and another; in the four months since they had become reacquainted, she had seen him nearly every night.