Anna heard a rumble in the distance, like the sound of a tram. “What was your name when you were born?”

They had almost reached the gates of the Institute. Ariadne hesitated. “Kamala,” she said. “Kamala Joshi.”

Kamala. A name like a flower.

“And there was no other family—no one who could help?” Anna said.

“An aunt and uncle, but there had been bad blood between them and my parents. They refused to take me in. I could have been raised at the Bombay Institute, but I—I wanted a mother and father. A proper family. And perhaps, to be far from those who had rejected me.” Ariadne’s lovely deep eyes with their flecks of gold were fixed on Anna’s face. It was unnerving, being looked at like that—it made Anna feel seen in a way she rarely did. “Anna. Will you ever forgive me?”

Anna tensed, caught off guard by the question. “Ariadne—”

Lightning cracked through the sky. Anna spun in surprise. There had been no sign of storm, the dawn sky untroubled. But now…

“What is that?” Ariadne whispered.

A huge dark cloud had gathered over the Institute—but only over the Institute. It was massive, inky black, and billowing above the church as though propelled by internal gusts. All around it the sky spread dark blue and untroubled to the horizon.

Thunder rumbled as Anna stared around in perplexity. A mundane man in workman’s clothes walked past, whistling to himself; it was clear that the storm was invisible to him.

Anna pushed open the gates, and she and Ariadne ducked into the courtyard. It was deep in shadow, the cloud billowing overhead. Lightning crackled around the Institute’s spire.

Ariadne had a khanda—a double-edged blade—already in her hand. Unfastening her whip from her belt, Anna turned in a slow circle, every sense on alert. Her eye caught a flicker of movement—something dark, like a spill of ink or blood, was moving in the center of the courtyard.

She took a step toward it—just as it surged up and outward: it wasn’t a spill after all, but something slick and black and moving and alive. Anna leaped back, thrusting Ariadne behind her, as it smashed upward through the earth, sending cracks zigzagging through the flagstones. Water rushed up through the cracks, filling the courtyard with the stench of hot salt and brine. Even as Anna spun, lashing out at the darkness with her whip, she couldn’t help but wonder: How on earth was the Institute’s courtyard possibly filling with seawater?

Though initially reluctant to venture out of his warm stall and into the icy weather, Balios gained his energy back quickly, delivering Lucie to Chiswick House in the dark small hours. She dismounted and patted the horse’s muzzle before tying him to a post near the gates with a blanket draped over his withers.