The trolleys were unceremoniously dropped back into their previous position and the attendants started to wheel Ward toward the furnace. In moments they would do the same to Alyssa. She turned her head to face the king and spoke to him—loud enough for him to hear but not loud enough for the unruly crowd, who were chattering with anticipation at the punishment to come.

She said: “Steve.”

The king was astonished. He turned and stared at Alyssa and felt panic rising within himself. He wanted to walk away from her, down the aisle and out of the building—but at the same time he wanted to know how Alyssa knew that was his name when he had all but forgotten it himself.

Behind them Ward was being fed into the furnace. The king had been especially looking forward to that part but now that it was happening he didn’t even turn to look.

“Steve—you came here on a ship, the Mull of Kintyre,” Alyssa went on. “This city is a cage and there’s something trapped in here with you; I thought perhaps it was you but now I know it’s not—”

But it was Alyssa’s turn for the furnace. The attendants started to wheel her away and her voice was lost in the baying of the crowd. The king held up a hand, trying to stop them, but the attendants were facing away and couldn’t hear him. She was pushed toward the flames, the mob screaming for her to be destroyed, and all the king could do was stand and watch. He wanted more time to think, he felt like telling everyone to stop for a moment—but for all his power and influence, he lacked the courage to intervene.

As Alyssa vanished into the furnace, the king saw the heat singe her hair but she closed her eyes and remained silent. Her resolve held until the furnace doors shut behind her, but then she let out screams that penetrated the doors and rang out through the hall. At first this brought cathartic enjoyment to the crowd but as it went on, discomfort and unease set in.

The king felt wretched.

Something touched the king’s ankles and he started in surprise. It was Clarence, brushing around his legs. A deep purr came from his throat.

* * *

“Good news, Your Highness,” were the words that greeted the king as he stepped through the side door of the memorial parlor and into the waiting room. They were spoken by Saori Kagawa, who was waiting for him there.

“Right,” muttered the king, swiftly closing the door before Clarence could follow. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. Alyssa’s screams had cut through him in a way he hadn’t expected and he really, really wished he’d spoken out and stopped it from happening. He stared down at the floor.

“You were told of the attack on the bureau last night?” said Saori.

“Yeah . . .” His attendants had told him about it while he was getting dressed this morning.