Early afternoon sunlight emblazoned the world. The sky was all possibility—or all emptiness, depending on your perspective. As Pleasance murmured the incantation, Cecilia navigated Darlington House up into its serenity. Her eyes were watering from the light—“Or possibly allergies,” she said when Pleasance looked at her dubiously. “The countryside is full of pollen, after all.”

Golden pollen over laughing blue eyes—er, skies.

Once airborne, the two young women stood at the cockpit window, looking down on the Devonshire field wherein Northangerland Abbey had met its doom. A pirate flag fluttered smugly from the abbey ruins. Her Majesty’s soldiers were being rounded up with military precision, although they tipped their hats and bowed at pirate ladies as they trudged back to the castle. Several houses continued to kick around a football, while children danced beneath with practice swords and toy wheels. Constantinopla Brown could be seen chasing them merrily, skirts hoisted to her knees, and Tom Eames chased her in turn.

“Indecorous,” Cecilia said.

“Hooliganism,” Pleasance agreed.

They sighed wistfully.

Cecilia leaned on the wheel as she gazed out at the long, pale sky. “Where would you go, Pleasance, if you could go anywhere? What would you do?”

“Why, serve you and Miss Darlington, miss,” Pleasance answered promptly.

“Of course. And now your candid answer?”

Pleasance considered the horizon. “I’d like to tour abandoned castles. Kidnap a few authors. Attend a lecture series by a mad scientist. You know, get myself an education.”

Cecilia’s heart warmed at this vision. “What would you do with your education?”

“Improve whatever part of the world I could touch upon.”

“Yes,” Cecilia said dreamily.

“Maybe write some books myself, experiment a bit with lightning. But not to create monsters, you understand. I’d respect people. And maybe get some respect for me too.”

“Respect. Yes. And equal rights.”

“And a voice in government.”

“And Lady Coffingham’s emerald tiara.”

“Ooh, that sounds pretty, miss.”

“It is, and doesn’t suit her in the least.”

“So you’d be doing her a favor.”

Cecilia smiled. Then frowned. “There is blood on your sleeve, dear.”

Pleasance glanced at it. “The bandage must have soaked through. I’ll replace it soon.”

“Bandage? Pleasance, were you injured?”

Pleasance shrugged, then winced. “Only a scratch, miss. I can still serve you well.”

“I’m not worried about you serving me. Go downstairs, please, and tend to your injury. I am fine here alone.”

Pleasance gave Cecilia a look at least as deep as her stab wound, but Cecilia was staring at the horizon again.

“I thought he was a very handsome chap,” Pleasance remarked.

“Tolerable, I suppose,” Cecilia replied.

“He’ll come back for you.”

“I’m the one who left. Not that I—not that there was any leaving, in that sense, of course. Merely departure from an acquaintance. A temporary business associate. A—”

“Friend?”

Cecilia blinked. “Blasted allergies,” she muttered, knuckling first one eye, then the other.

Pleasance handed her a handkerchief, then went downstairs to sew her own arm. Cecilia flew on alone toward the white magic of the eastern skyline, Windsor Castle following some distance behind.