A Star Shall Fall

Impatience rages as brightly as its light. The greater brilliance of the sun briefly severed the links between the Dragon and the Earth; the eyes were gone, and even its own straining efforts could not make out the distant speck of its target. It thought, then, that it had lost its chance. When contact returned, it almost leapt down, to gorge upon the first thing it found.

Almost. Almost. But the promise of power is enough to hold it in check.

Not for much longer, though. Its instinct to destroy is too intense. If it cannot have the city, and the shadow, and the ones who banished it to the cold black sky, it will take something else instead. Grow strong once more, stronger than it ever was, until it consumes everything.

Then it will have power, and all the world besides.

THE ONYX HALL, LONDON

28 March 1759

Valentin Aspell seemed far more serene than he had any right to be. The treasonous Lord Keeper was sitting at his ease in a chair when the jailer unlocked the door to his cell; they had permitted him that much comfort, though there was little else in this bare stone room, beneath the Tower of London. Upon seeing Lune and her escort, he rose and sank to one elegant knee. “Your Majesty.”

The Queen stopped a little way into the room, letting Sir Peregrin and Sir Cerenel keep between her and the prisoner. Irrith was glad to remain at her side. Aspell’s eyes did no more than flicker briefly in her direction, but it was more than enough; Irrith shivered, and wished she hadn’t come. Lune needed her, though. Whatever Dr. Andrews had done, she’d been days in recovering from it; he hadn’t weakened her so much as… detached her. The effort of will had been visible, every time Lune concentrated on their words, moved her body, spoke. Irrith wondered privately—and would never ask anyone—whether it was true that too much mortal bread, even of the safe, tithed kind, could tinct a faerie, and whether Andrews had washed that from her. What human qualities Lune had taken on might be gone from her now.

She certainly did not look human as she regarded the kneeling Aspell. She let the silence grow, heartbeat by heartbeat, until Irrith herself wanted to say something just to break it; and then she said, “Tell me why I should not execute you.”

There were many answers Aspell could have made. It wasn’t Lune’s customary way; it would anger the Sanists; he held some last weapon or offer that made it wiser—or at least more useful—to keep him alive.

Instead he replied, “Because everything I have done, I have done for the good of the Onyx Hall.”

Irrith couldn’t prevent herself from making a startled and disbelieving noise. Aspell’s courtesy was too good for him to lift his head; he remained kneeling, eyes on the cold black floor of his cell. Lune waited until the sound faded before saying, “If your crimes consisted only of my abduction and intended murder for Andrews’s scheme, I might believe you. If they extended no further than to what Dame Irrith has told me, your plan to sacrifice me to the Dragon, your current involvement with the Sanist conspiracy, I might still believe you. But your guilt is older than that, Aspell. You plotted with Carline even before the Hall began to fray.” She paused, then asked, “Do you deny it?”

“No, your Grace. But I maintain my defence.”

“Putting Carline on the throne would be good for the Onyx Hall?” The question burst out of Irrith before she could stop it. Lune made no attempt to stop her. “She would have been a terrible queen! And you know it!”

Aspell hesitated. His calmness was no act, Irrith realised; this wasn’t some political game. He truly meant what he said. “Madam, with your permission, I would answer Dame Irrith’s accusation.”

Lune only moved one hand, but Aspell must have seen it, for he went on. “Carline was… not ideal, it’s true. But she had this virtue over others who might have been more suitable: she could have been controlled. So long as she had her entertainments, she would have been willing to give me free rein in the Onyx Hall.”

“And that was what you wanted, wasn’t it.”