At least I got my pistols back. They were waiting for me on my bed, as was Bridget. She flapped about, from the furniture to the window, restless, while Tom admired his new hat in the window’s reflection.

“What do you think you’ll get as a gift?” he said.

“I don’t know,” I said. “But we’ll both get one, I’m sure.”

“What do you mean? I already have mine.”

“The king made Sally his ward. I’m pretty sure he’s planned more for you than a hat.”

“But it’s so splendid. Don’t you think?”

To tell the truth, I thought it was a bit flamboyant for Tom, with the feathers and all. But he was so proud, I wouldn’t say a word against it. “Makes you look like a musketeer.”

“Really? They’re incredible soldiers, you know.”

Tom was clearly in a great mood if he was saying nice things about the French. He admired his hat a bit more, then asked, “Why were you gone so long, anyway? It shouldn’t have taken you that much time to walk here.”

I sat up, surprised. I’d all but forgotten what had happened just a couple of hours ago. Meeting the king does something to the brain, I guess.

“Simon’s here,” I said. “Someone tried to kill him.”

“What?”

I told Tom everything that had happened. He listened, horrified, and when I was finished, he had the exact same question I had. “Was it the Raven?”

Bridget flapped from the window and landed on my shoulder, poking her beak into my hair. I took her in my hands and held her.

“According to Simon,” I said, “the Raven’s dead.”

“Dead? How? That’s incredible!”

“I suppose.”

“You suppose?”

“I don’t know. Something doesn’t feel right. How can the Raven be dead?”

“He’s just a man, Christopher.”

“Lord Ashcombe said the same thing.”

“There you go, then.” Tom flopped onto his bed. “So you didn’t see who attacked Simon?”

“It happened outside. I was in the shop.…”

I trailed off.

“What is it?” Tom said.

“The letter.”

“What letter?”

I’d tossed my coat on my bed when I came in. Now I put Bridget down and fished the letter from the inside pocket.

“This,” I said, holding it up. The attack on Simon had made me forget all about it. “It was waiting for me on the counter, at Blackthorn. You didn’t go by the shop, did you?”

Tom shook his head. “We came straight to Whitehall.”

“So who put it there?” I said.

“Does it say who it’s from?”

“I don’t recognize the handwriting.”

“I meant in the letter.”

“I haven’t read it yet.”

Tom raised his eyebrows. “Then… maybe you should?”

Good point.

Why hadn’t I read it?

Because, Master Benedict said, in the back of your mind, you think it’s from the Raven.

The Raven’s dead, I replied.

Wasn’t he?

Tom was looking at me strangely. This was stupid. Just open the thing.

With a deep breath, I cracked the wax seal. Then, with growing amazement, I read the message inside.