The Burning Page

But cold dread ran the opposite way in her veins and spread ice round her heart. This was also an unparalleled opportunity to get killed, or worse. Alberich was as much above her as she was above the thugs they’d dodged in Poland, when they first entered this world. He was hundreds of years old. He’d betrayed the Library and learned the Fae’s darkest secrets. He skinned Librarians for fun and profit, and then wore their skins as disguises. He wasn’t careless. And if Irene had recognized him, then the odds were ten to one that he was prepared for that.

‘Irene,’ Kai murmured, reminding her of his presence. His muscles were tense under her arm. ‘Shall I take him down? If I reached him before he could react . . .’

‘Too obvious,’ Irene said regretfully. ‘He knows you’re a dragon, Kai. He’s not stupid.’

‘Oh yes, you did say he sold information about me to the Fae – and caused my kidnapping.’ Kai’s eyes were like dark ice. ‘But he might be overconfident. Shall I test that?’

Irene weighed the possibilities. An open assault on Alberich, against all his defences and in the middle of a hall full of soldiers and wizards, might well be suicidal. And she didn’t want to get herself killed. On the other hand, if it disposed of him and ended his threat to the Library, then it might be worth it. She’d refused Bradamant’s suggestion that they act as bait, because they didn’t have a good way to reach Alberich. Well, here he was, right in front of her. What was she going to do now?

She reached out and caught the arm of an older woman, a gaudy battleship in violet satin and diamonds. ‘Excuse me, madam,’ she said hastily, before the other woman could shake her off, and nodded towards Alberich. ‘Who is that gentleman over there?’

The woman went so pale that the rouge stood out on her cheeks in two scarlet spots. ‘You must mean Count Nicolai Ilyich,’ she said, trying and failing to sound casual. ‘I thought everyone knew who he was.’

‘We’ve just arrived from Paris. I don’t know anyone. Except the Empress, of course.’ Irene forced a laugh. ‘Is he someone important?’

‘He’s the head of the Oprichniki, and if you have any sense you’ll stay well out of his way.’ The woman shook Irene’s hand off her arm and sailed away, as fast as was commensurate with dignity.

Alberich was still watching, though he didn’t try to approach. A growing space was forming around Irene and Kai as well, probably because people could follow Alberich’s gaze and didn’t care to be associated with its target.

Irene took a deep breath. ‘Kai, I’m about to do something reckless,’ she said, ‘and I need you to be standing by as backup.’

‘No,’ Kai said flatly. ‘That is not going to happen. I will not let you do this.’

‘I’m not particularly wild about it either.’ That was the understatement of the decade. She’d rather walk up a volcano that was emitting little pre-eruption burps. ‘But he can use the Language as well as I can, if not better. And you know what I can do . . .’

Kai scowled, not even trying to hide his anger. ‘So you want me to stay out of range of his voice.’

‘I may need you to rescue me.’ She squeezed his arm. ‘I don’t trust just anyone to rescue me, you know.’

‘Besides, he can’t do anything dramatic to you without exposing himself, in a public place such as this,’ Kai said, coming to the same conclusion as Irene.

‘Yes, that’s rather what I’m hoping,’ she agreed. ‘And if you hear him yelling something like Guard, arrest these rebel spies! – then that’s the cue to run.’

Before Kai could delay her any further, she turned and walked towards Alberich.

Her curtsey was the polite dip and ruffle of skirts appropriate for a young woman when approaching a man of superior rank. There was certainly no genuine respect behind it. Alberich knew that, and Irene knew that he knew it. But she couldn’t risk being noticed as unusual. Yet.

‘As polite as ever,’ Alberich said. His voice had a different timbre from their last encounter, but of course he’d been wearing someone else’s skin that time. Some other victim who’d died so that he could disguise himself and use their identity. ‘I was afraid that you’d try and lose yourself in the crowd, Ray.’

Irene smiled sweetly, not wanting him to see how much his use of her birth name annoyed her. ‘But then I might have lost sight of you, Alberich. You’re far too dangerous for that.’

‘And you didn’t even bring me a glass of champagne.’

‘Oh, come now. You know I’d poison it.’

‘You must have so many questions.’ His thin-lipped smile cut across his face like a scar. ‘Why don’t you ask some of them?’

‘Let’s be frank, shall we?’ There was no way of knowing whether or not he’d tell the truth. He might even be playing for time, simply keeping her busy until a trap closed on her. But possibly – just possibly – he was vain enough to boast, or careless enough to give something away. ‘Why are you here?’

‘To speak to you, of course.’ He spread his hands in mock confession. ‘All this way, just to talk to one little Librarian. I hope you aren’t going to waste my time.’

Irene ignored the threat. She was ignoring so many other possible dangers, so it was comparatively easy to add one more to the pile of Deliberately Burying Head in Sand and Hoping They’ll Go Away. ‘What I don’t understand, to be entirely honest—’