And then she felt it: a distant trickle of heat. Almost as soon as it was there, it flickered away again.

Ok, what did I just do? The wind blew, I looked at my freezing fingers, I swore. That had to be it. The fire came from anger. She could do anger.

Ursula closed her eyes, imagining Rufus and Madeleine cuddling on his sofa, surrounded by empty wine bottles and expensive cheese. The familiar warmth flowed in her veins. This was a start, but it wasn’t going to clear a path anytime soon. She didn’t really give a fuck about Madeleine. She needed more heat.

In her mind’s eye, Rufus leaned over his desk. “The problem, Urse, is that you have no goals—no vision,” he whinged.

The heat poured out of Ursula like liquid metal from a crucible. The ice in front of her melted with a hiss and a burst of steam.

Rufus continued to play his part in her imagination. “You’re just a sad cow who will never make anything of your life.”

Flames burst from her palms pouring along the ledge. Sparks fell toward the street below in a waterfall of hellfire. Ursula watched the fire, entranced by its beauty, until a great gust of freezing wind snapped her out of her reverie. Get a grip.

One the plus side, the ice had fully melted. Ursula inched forward over the stone. When she reached the forbidden room’s windows, she pressed her face against the glass, but all she could see were heavy curtains. She wouldn’t learn any secrets unless she actually broke into the room.

She kneeled flat against the wall, the dagger still clenched between her teeth. Gingerly, she released it into her hand, careful not to slice herself with the sharp edge. Holding it firmly, she slipped the blade into the crack between the window and the sill. A twist of the dagger’s hilt ratcheted the window open.

Slipping her fingers into the gap, she pulled it open further. Crouched on the ledge, she didn’t have the leverage to open it all the way without leaning dangerously close to death. She would have to clamber in as best she could.

Chapter 19

Teeth chattering, she squeezed through on her stomach, tumbling onto the floor of a pitch-black room. She crouched, clutching the dagger, and listened. All she could hear was a soft hiss of air from the window behind her head. Otherwise, the room lay silent as a tomb.

She rose to her feet, holding the dagger defensively. She still shivered, and it shook in her hand. When nothing leapt at her from the darkness, she pulled open the curtains, letting light fall on the room.

She almost dropped her knife when she saw what lay before her.