Al let out a string of yelps and curses, scrambling back behind the table. Guil swore under his breath, turning from Camille to Ada for some sort of explanation. But Ada was lost for words. She would call it all impossible. But it clearly was possible, however much her mind rebelled at the thought. She just needed to work out how.

‘What the hell is this supposed to be?’ said Al from his hiding spot. ‘Did someone put something in my drink? Are we having some sort of collective hallucination, or do I actually need to go and find a priest because there is a demon in front of me?’

‘She’s not a demon,’ cut in Ada.

‘Since when were you an expert?’

‘It’s science, not magic or devilry,’ she explained with more confidence than she felt. ‘She’s manipulating electricity.’

Hastily, Olympe pulled her gloves back on and shivered. ‘How strange to be able to do that again. It was winter when they shut me away and now it is summer. I don’t think I’ve ever gone so long without a spark before today.’

Al inched back out from behind the table.

‘Science?’

‘Yes, you’ve seen them do tricks and demonstrations at the theatre, haven’t you?’

‘That was a dog that barked in German, this is … is…’ He stared wide-eyed at Olympe.

Guil was nodding thoughtfully. ‘I have seen electrical displays before, they were popular at home in Marseille, but it has to be acknowledged that this is something far beyond a parlour trick.’

Silence hung between them, only broken by the clatter of hooves and carriage wheels outside, and the hiss of steam from the coffee pot. Olympe drew all their attention where she sat, small and upright and frightening to behold.

Guil retrieved the steaming pot and poured out five cups of gritty coffee.

‘Is this why the duc wants you?’ asked Ada. ‘Maybe Comtois knew someone would try to take you, and that’s why he locked you up?’

Camille shrugged. ‘That wouldn’t be an unreasonable guess.’

Al lit his pipe from a candle, hands still shaking. ‘The Revolutionaries have you locked up like the crown jewels in a vault. Clearly you’re valuable to them. But what do the Royalists want with some strange science experiment? Got bored and fancied a little light dabbling in the Dark Arts?’

Camille shot him a look, but Olympe spoke before she could say anything.

‘I don’t care what they want with me. I’m grateful to have been rescued, but I won’t go back to Docteur Comtois, and I won’t go to this duc either.’

‘That’s all very nice, but we’ve been given rather a lot of money to hand you over,’ said Al.