The Stone's Heart

Book 2: The Queen's Wing

by Jessica Thorne

Genres: Contemporary Fantasy; Fantasy Romance; YA Coming of Age; YA Contemporary; Paranormal

Synopsis

Petra Kel – young and headstrong – has been named General of the Queen’s Guard. But while Petra’s head may be in rebuilding the war-torn kingdom alongside her childhood friend Queen Belengaria, she left her heart miles away in their homeland, the day she turned her back on the only man she ever loved and fled.

But then Petra’s past – in the form of Bel’s roguish brother Zander – comes crashing in, just as rumours of dark magic begin to swirl at court. Petra can’t afford to be distracted… but the unfinished business between herself and Zander is like a vice upon her heart.

When evil takes hold of the kingdom and threatens Bel, Petra is forced to make the impossible choice between love and loyalty. And will the insidious magic of the Stone’s Heart reveal the heart-breaking reason why she left Zander behind all those years ago?

Release date: February 19, 2019

Publisher: Bookouture

Print pages: 380

Sample

Chapter 1

 

Golden sunlight filters through the windows and I shift the tablet around so I can continue to read it. Anthaese sunlight seems richer and thicker than the sunlight of my homeworld, far-off Vairian, on the other side of the galaxy. There’s a knock on the door of my office. I have an office now, with a desk and everything. Someone insisted. One day I will find out who and then they’ll regret it.

‘Enter,’ I snap, pushing the tablet back from me and locking the screen. To my surprise, when the door opens, Bel’s standing there.

Well, more correctly, Princess Belengaria Merryn of Vairian, Duchess of Elveden, Countess of Duneen and betrothed of the ruler of this world, the Anthaem, Conleith stands there. She’s slight and beautiful in a strangely fae sort of way, her golden toned skin like polished waeywood, and her hair black as raven feathers. She smiles nervously. It obviously isn’t a day of many formal appointments because I’d know if it was, and secondly, she’d be wearing a much more elaborate dress than a simple Vairian-style robe in cream and blue, a keen reminder of our home. A very different world from here.

‘Bel?’ I wait as she comes inside and closes the door behind her. Just Bel, on her own, which is frustrating. She’s wearing her knife belt, of course. It’s a habit, one of which I approve. The slipping away from the guards I assign to keep her safe is a lot less endearing.

I get to my feet and give a bow but she rolls her eyes. ‘Oh, stop it.’

‘What can I do for you, your Highness?’

The monarchy isn’t hereditary here. They pick the best and the brightest, and in Bel they have a shining star. I know that better than anyone.

She takes a seat by the window. It looks out over the city, rather than the gardens and from it you can see the rebuilding work, still underway. They’re doing everything they can to replicate the original, unique style of the buildings, matching, to the best of their abilities, those scattered across the surface of Anthaeus, elegant and beautiful, those precious few settlements, on this otherwise wild and sparsely inhabited planet. It will take years, but we’ll do it. It’s not everyone who gets to watch a new world being built out of the ruins of the old.

‘I have a favour to ask.’

As if I could deny her anything. ‘Of course. Just ask.’

She doesn’t though. Not at first. Her attention is captured by the view.

The Rondet soar through the skies, glittering and wondrous. The non-human sentients – the preferred term according to the xenobiologists who keep trying to study them – look like a mix between insects and dragons, their crystalline forms catching the light, their four wings bearing them effortlessly. Awake from their hibernation, the three survivors of a lost race reborn range far and wide through the skies. Bel woke them from their long sleep in the darkest hours of the invasion. We would never have won without them.

Human life is flourishing too, though our losses in the war were great. The surviving colonists are resettling in the capital, Limasyll, although many stay in the newly discovered subterranean cities – feeling safer there, more comfortable among the ancient architecture which they study and emulate, just as the first settlers did. Their numbers are few, the death toll higher than we imagined at first. We still don’t know the total lost.

Anthaeus sits at the farthest edge of a network of planets and a loose alliance of worlds holding its own between two powers, the Empire to one side of us, Gravia on the other. Both of them wanted control of Anthaeus. The Empire tried negotiation, the Gravians invaded, and ultimately, both failed. The Empress seems content – for now, anyway – to allow my homeworld of Vairian, through Bel, to be her hand here. Vairians are soldiers, through and through. We fought the Gravians on our own world and drove them off. Since then we’ve been the Empress’s attack dogs, the shock troops of the Empire, even if we are among the newest worlds aligned to it. Sending Bel here as Con’s betrothed was her way of reaching out to take control of Anthaeus as well. They spoke of her duty to Vairian, her father’s duty to the Empire, the need for peace and unity, and all the other flowery language of diplomacy… when you got down to basics, Bel was handed from one world to another without any choice in the matter.

But it wasn’t that simple. Nothing is ever that simple.

I don’t think the Empress realises how completely Anthaeus tends to make those who come here its own. Perhaps no one does. Spend any time on this world and it draws you in, and gives you a new home.

Bel and Con, beautiful as night and day, complementing each other in all things, rule a court filled with wonders. Con was always an engineer at heart, and now his inventions are changing the galaxy. Bel’s courage is the foundation on which he builds. Their people adore her like a living saint, as much as they did Con’s first wife, Matilde, an idea which makes her blush and laugh at the same time. But you can see how much it means to her. How much she loves them back.

Eventually Bel lets out a heavy sigh. ‘You aren’t going to like it, Petra. But I really need you to do this for me.’

I sit in the matching chair. ‘Bel, I’m at your command. You know that.’

It must be to do with the wedding.

Their wedding – the wedding – was interrupted by a Gravian invasion the first time they attempted it. Bel and Con went through hell to get this far again, but this time it’s a formality, more like a celebration for the new Anthaeus and its restored freedom. A statement of their victory. It has to be perfect. Jondar will see to that, and Thom is almost as bad.

Master of the Court of Anthaeus, Prince Jondar of House Henndale, is the most uptight control freak I’ve ever encountered. How my fellow Vairian turned Anthaese general, Thom Rahleigh, puts up with him outside of working hours, I don’t know. Perhaps because he’s secretly just as bad.

And as for them, Thom and Jondar were handfasted in a traditional Vairian ceremony combined with a full Anthaese marriage. It was horribly complicated, overly elaborate and a lavish affair but they loved every minute of it. I pointed out that perhaps they should have let Bel and Con have their wedding first but Thom told me it would take too long and he wouldn’t wait. So that was that.

So here I am and here I stay, serving my princess, leading my troops, rebuilding a world anew. I’m not a soldier any more but a general, which just means more paperwork and less time. But awards had to be handed out, promotions bestowed. There were medals. It doesn’t sit well with me, if I’m honest. I’ve seen how fast everything can change, how quickly all those honours can be taken from someone. When the interstellar networks tell the story of the defence of Anthaeus, they speak of heroism and valour. Who wants to hear of death and agony, of sacrifice and destruction? They don’t speak of the aftermath.

Bel laces her fingers together, a sure sign that she’s nervous. So it really is something I won’t like. To be honest, I’m intrigued.

‘I’d rather not make it a command, Petra. It’s difficult and it’s not something I’d ask lightly.’

It’s sounding worse with every second that drags by. I’m imagining ball gowns, tulle and so much lace. Probably in a very bright colour that definitely isn’t my preferred black.

‘What is it, Bel?’

She bites on her lower lip and looks guilty. It’s really bad then. Worse than ball gowns. ‘Zander’s coming to the wedding.’

Oh.

I desperately try to find something polite to say instead of what I’m thinking. He’s her brother, after all. He was invited the first time.

But it’s Zander. Ball gowns would be easy in comparison.

‘Of course he is. Crown Prince Lysander is—’

‘Stop it. I know, he’s a pain. We’ve all heard the latest stories. I need you to keep an eye on him. He has a habit of getting himself into trouble. And I know this might be awkward but…’

She knows. Of course she knows. She finds out everything. She looks so little and helpless and suddenly she has you in a headlock with a knife at your throat and a gun in your back. Not that she would need either one.

Zander and me. There’s a history. Not just my refusing to follow his orders when they conflicted with my duty to her. But so much more. Back at home, all through training and on a hundred missions.

‘I’m at your service, your Majesty,’ I tell her, because what else can I say? She’s my queen and if she wants me to babysit her big brother, well then… I’ll babysit.

Zander and me.

This is going to be a disaster.

Thom isn’t any help. When I tell him he just looks at me blankly.

‘Well of course he’s coming. He’s her brother.’

‘Yes, but…’

How am I meant to explain? When I was a kid I never even thought of romance. Why would I? Long before the Gravians invaded Anthaeus, they came to my world. The war between Vairian and Gravia lasted many years and I was born into that, grew up in its chaos and destruction. I’m a war orphan like so many others, there and here. When I was a kid, all I wanted to do was grow up as fast as possible so I could fight too, so I could mete out some sort of revenge on those who took everything from me. Or at least, the Gravian ones.

And oh, I did. Back home, and in every other warzone the Empress sent us to. Vairian troops, the best, disposable. The dogs of the Empire, despised by everyone but entirely necessary, all the same.

‘You mean that thing you two had when we were posted on the Noble Hawk?’ Thom asks.

It feels like a punch to the gut.

That thing. I can’t believe he’d refer to it like that. That. Thing.

I carefully rein in the shock before I reply. ‘That. And the fact that last time he spoke to me I disobeyed a direct order.’

Thom shrugs. ‘So did I.’

‘You aren’t his ex.’

He laughs then. ‘It was years ago. Besides, General Kel Zander is a Crown Prince now. No matter what he’s done in the past, or what he’s got up to recently, he’s going to be shone up and married off to the most politically expedient bidder. You know that, don’t you?’

He gentles on the last few words. Thom isn’t the ignorant oaf he sometimes pretends to be. It isn’t just marriage to Jondar that’s softened him up. He always had that side to him. He just doesn’t show it very often. Not even to his friends.

‘Of course I know that, General Rahleigh.’ I lean on the title a little for emphasis. Just as he did mine. To be honest we’re still both bemused by our rise in station. The rank feels strange. He may have expected it one day but I never did, not with my family history. But Con decided and once he decides something he’s even more stubborn than Bel. ‘Even after all the drinking and ancestors know what else Zander got up to on Cuore… You’ve heard the stories.’

The Empress summoned him to her palace world before the Gravians invaded Anthaeus, and in my less charitable moments I wonder if he used the battle for our liberation as a way to avoid facing her. Whatever the reason, after the war he ran out of excuses. Zander went to Cuore because he had no choice but to go. Our world is her vassal world, and as Crown Prince he had to swear fealty. And he stayed for months, allegedly indulging every vice I’ve ever heard of. Sad to say, it didn’t even surprise me.

Thom shrugs. ‘A few, yeah. They weren’t easy to avoid. Look, he’s never been one to take orders, that’s all. And the Empress isn’t one to take his sort of carry-on lightly. I can’t imagine it went smoothly, can you?’

‘Do you think she kept him there to punish him?’

It isn’t a good thought. Zander could have annoyed her so much that she deliberately kept him on Cuore. And he retaliated by – well, by being Zander. Being even worse.

‘Who was punishing who, do you think?’ he asks.

Our eyes meet and we almost laugh. Even among the regular troops Zander was known as a hellraiser, long before his rise in station. Not just known, notorious. The amount of times we’ve pulled him out of a bar or a brothel, the number of besotted girls we’ve had to carefully turn away… I pity whoever is doing that job now.

I should never have made a fool of myself with him. But we were young and there were battles to fight. And no one ever knew who would be coming back. The sheer unadulterated joy of being with him was enough for me.

Then he told me he loved me.

I applied for reassignment within an hour.

The Vairian shuttle spirals down to the landing strip, its stocky bulk gleaming in the afternoon sunlight. Someone thought to decorate the reception area with streamers of silk which billow out, rippling in the wind it kicks up. As it touches down there’s a rush of activity overhead, birds taking off as one, startled by the noise, and by Rhenna, of the Rondet, soaring low over the field, all four of her glistening wings spread wide.

Bel laughs with delight to see her. ‘She’s curious.’

I shift nervously. ‘Aren’t we all? What do you think happened when he went to Cuore? He was there for months.’

She just shakes her head. ‘I’m sure it went fine.’

I’m not. We heard the stories, just like I said to Thom. How could we avoid them? The interstellar networks love gossip almost as much as a war, and a bad boy, heart-throb, handsome prince, especially a new one, meant hits all over their feeds. They told tales of scandal after scandal, drunkenness, debauchery, and a hundred broken hearts. They detailed all the ways he disgraced himself and, by extension, Vairian in lurid details.

I believe every tall tale. Perhaps Bel doesn’t.

I sometimes wonder if I know her brother better than she does. Or if she is just in denial. I knew him at his worst – or at least his previous worse, before this new low – but to her he was always a hero. That’s the way of things. I wonder if he is really here for the wedding? Or something else? I wouldn’t put anything past him. But I don’t get a chance to pursue any questions. The door to the shuttle opens and Zander steps out.

But it’s not Zander, not the Zander I knew. This is Crown Prince Lysander Merryn of Vairian, plus a lot of other titles he’s acquired. Too many to follow. Vairian’s Playboy Prince.

He’s still arresting to look at, his height, broad shoulders, a perfectly proportioned physical specimen. He’d never get away with everything he does without that. His eyes. And that smile.

I’ve learned to be so very wary of that smile.

He turns it on the assembled well-wishers now, like a weapon.

Three of Bel’s ladies-in-waiting absolutely simper. A number of the guards as well, although they manage to look suitably contrite when I glare at them. They’re lucky Thom chooses not to notice.

The smile does not affect me. I’m immune.

And I’ll keep on telling myself that.

I recognise Daria with him, her tall, solid presence as much a staple in his entourage as ever. Her black hair is close cropped and functional and she doesn’t seem to have aged at all since I saw her last. She is to Zander what Shae was to Bel, once upon a time – bodyguard, confidant, best friend. She never liked me, of that I’m certain. But then, she once served with my father.

As Bel makes her way towards them – because would it hurt her just once to stay put like she’s told? – I follow as nonchalantly as I can. We’ve almost reached him when, with a noise like a fist hitting concrete, Rhenna slams herself down on the ground between us.

Two hundred pounds of gleaming, crystalline dragon-like alien body blocks Zander’s path and, incredibly, he doesn’t instantly retreat. I knew he was brave, but this borders on foolhardy.

‘What’s she doing?’ I ask Bel.

She’s already frowning, with that slightly distant look in her eyes which tells me she’s talking to the remaining female member of the Rondet. It’s clearly a disagreement at best.

Thom says that communing with them is like hearing someone whisper in the back of your mind. I haven’t had the pleasure. And I’m not entirely sure I want to. Psychic bonds with non-human minds? No thank you.

‘She’s curious. And a bit… oh, ancestors, Rhenna…’

Zander stands his ground, looking up at her, part in wonder and part in defiance. His guards fan out, unsure of what they should do. No one prepared them for this. Even Daria looks shocked. How do you prepare someone for meeting ancient non-human lifeforms who until recently were thought extinct? Zander doesn’t move when Rhenna takes one step and then another forward, and thrusts her slender, deadly muzzle towards his face. Her tail lashes back and forth.

‘Bel?’ I ask. ‘What is it?’ I’ve never seen Rhenna so defensive before. She’s acting out of character and I don’t like it.

But Bel just looks exasperated. Whatever Rhenna is telling her, she doesn’t like it.

‘Last time Zander was here he tried to make me leave with him. She’s not… not too happy to see him.’

No, really? She looks like she’s about to bite his head off.

‘What do we do?’

‘I’m trying to talk to her but she’s so stubborn.’

Well, she ought to know stubborn. And as for Zander…

He stands there, gazing at the enormous, hostile creature as if he’s looking at a wonder. Which, of course, he is. But the gleam in those hazel eyes shows no hint of the fear he ought to be feeling right now. That stupid Merryn family bravery again, that ability to sail through a crisis while everyone else runs away like people with brains.

It’ll only take a moment to go to hell. It’ll only take an instant for Rhenna to crush him or tear him limb from limb. I’ve seen her do it.

Admittedly, that was with Gravian invaders. But still, there have been rumours, accusations, missing livestock, even tales of missing children. I don’t believe a single one of them. But stories grow. It’s only a matter of time before the finger points more directly to them. Or for the Vairian guards to decide she’s a threat to their Crown Prince and try to protect him by attacking her. She wouldn’t take well to that.

I can’t just stand here. Instinct compels me into action. I throw myself forward, leaping over her tail and dodging under her wings. But I’m too late. I know it even as I start to move. I’ll never make it in time. I’m far too late.

Zander lifts his hand and presses it against the hard, shining surface of her muzzle.

I skid to a halt between them, ready to block her, or him, ready to keep them apart. Ready to let her attack me instead of him. But Rhenna barely notices me. She leans in against his hand, her multifaceted eyes glinting as they gaze down at him. Is she in his head too? I can’t tell. I only know she doesn’t deign to talk to me.

Abruptly, she purrs. It’s unmistakable. The rumble passes through my chest like an earthquake, shaking my lungs against my ribcage.

She looks at me, instead of him. Her eyes are so many colours. They shift and glow, almost hypnotic. She’s studying me.

Then she shies back from us, gathering her muscles, and leaps for the sky, all four wings outspread. The blast of wind throws my hair back from my face and I bring up my hand to shield my eyes as she flies away.

‘Beautiful,’ says Zander. He means it too, his dazed expression fixed on the native Anthaese in flight. A smile drags its way over my face to hear the awe in that single word. ‘Hello, Petra.’ His tone doesn’t change but flows on, surprisingly calm. ‘That was dramatic.’

The old me would have bristled and become instantly defensive. Part of me still tries to. I haven’t grown that much. I get it under control as fast as I can.

‘Have to make an entrance, Zander. Wasn’t that always your rule of thumb?’

I glance at him, unable to help myself. Ancestors, he’s only got better looking in the intervening years. How is that possible?

‘Well, your dragon certainly understands that. Was she marking her territory?’

Or was I? The unspoken words are a glint of amusement in his hazel eyes.

‘She’s not my dragon, your Highness,’ I tell him and step away to give a curt bow. ‘She’s not a dragon at all. They are the native species here, the ancient Anthaese. This is her world. We’re the interlopers.’

Just then Bel arrives and thoroughly distracts him by throwing her arms around his neck in an act of royal impropriety that will scandalise the uptight, etiquette-obsessed Anthaese nobility.

Or perhaps not. They’re almost used to her now.

The interstellar media, on the other hand, will have a field day – one look at the dismayed expression on Jondar’s face tells me that. He tries so hard to be understanding with Bel, but now that there are two Merryns in residence he hasn’t a hope. I make a mental note to tell Thom to talk him down. He’s the only one who can. Maybe he can give him some further tips on handling Vairian royals. They aren’t the same as Anthaese. We come from very different worlds, people shaped in entirely different ways.

‘Kel,’ Daria says with a curt nod to me. ‘Well handled.’ I accept the unexpected compliment with a dip of my head. ‘Do they often do that?’

‘Not often. But then, they do what they like most of the time.’

Daria gives a short laugh. ‘Well, we’re used to that, aren’t we?’

Bel is already talking nineteen to the dozen to her bemused and suddenly somewhat helpless older brother, introducing him to various dignitaries. He does well, considering he’s Zander and he would probably rather be heading straight to a bar if I remember correctly.

And then, before I realise what’s happening, all attention is on me again.

‘And you remember General Kel,’ she says blithely. The devious little monster. She even gets the tone just right. Rubbing it in. I’m a general now. Her general.

‘General Kel.’ He rolls the words around his tongue like he’s tasting them. Well, he might be the crown prince but he never made general. Admittedly he could probably appoint himself general now if he wanted to but that wouldn’t be the same. And I’m an Anthaese general rather than a Vairian one so he probably doesn’t really class it as a proper general. And… and he’s smiling at me. Why is he smiling at me?

Oh ancestors, yes. Procedures. Politeness. Speak, Petra.

‘Crown Prince Lysander,’ I say, and give a formal bow. No matter what Jondar says, I do not curtsey. I straighten, standing to attention, and I wait for it, a barb or some kind of low blow. Just to knock me off my perch.

‘You and Thom are heading up the newly restored military, I believe?’ he replies.

‘Yes, your Highness, Vairian and Anthaese veterans serve together now.’

He gives a laugh, amused but curt all the same. ‘You can’t be a veteran at your age, Petra.’

I freeze a bit inside. I’m older than Bel, but not by much. And given all we saw during the invasion we certainly qualify as veterans. A veteran isn’t defined by years.

I should have let Rhenna eat him. Bel would get over it. She has two more brothers after all.

But it’s Bel who answers, her voice uncharacteristically sharp. ‘You would be surprised by how young some of our veterans are, Zander. We lost entire generations to the Gravians. This was not a clean war. But then neither was the one at home… or have you forgotten? Now, come on. We need to get back to the palace. Con is waiting.’

Con didn’t come out to meet Zander. For many that would be a slight but Zander doesn’t even appear to notice. Con is run off his feet these days. If he’s not overseeing the rebuilding projects, he’s rolling out another new invention, arranging financing for another orphanage, or trying to muscle in on the archaeological work in the hidden city.

‘Waiting’ might be an exaggeration.

There’s no sign of Con when we get there. We pause on the wide, sunlit terrace leading in to the audience chamber, which was once no more than a minor receiving room. It’s still a building more beautiful than anything on Vairian and that gives me a small thrill of pride in my new home. Bel tries to hide her annoyance and Jondar is barking into his coms in what he thinks is a subtle manner. Luckily, Thom arrives on the scene and the next thing he and Zander are laughing and swapping war stories. It’s all loud and male and while I’m used to that, it seems suddenly out of place and alien in the refined atmosphere of Anthaeus. I’m not part of it now. Why Thom still is and I’m not, I don’t know. I stand stiff and formal, off to one side, watching them.

‘General? Is there anything you need?’ Dwyer pops out of nowhere. Whoever had the stupid idea of getting me an office also had the stupid idea of assigning me an equerry, a fifteen year old war orphan who is frighteningly efficient and reminds me way too much of myself at that age.

‘No, Dwyer. Just… watching.’

‘Flight command sent through a message. An Imperial ship is in orbit and requesting permission to send down a shuttle.’

Now he has my attention. ‘What ship?’

He checks the tablet in his hand, scrolling through the information there. ‘It’s um… it’s…’

‘Spit it out, Dwyer. What other ship?’

‘The Gallacian. Out of Cuore.’

There’s no ship from Cuore due in now. I’m sure of it. I make eye contact with Jondar. He frowns and makes an excuse to whoever he’s talking to before crossing to me.

I tell him.

‘The Gallacian?’ He gives me a blank look and Dwyer clears his throat.

‘It detoured off its registered itinerary to call in here, by Imperial command, for a group of passengers to disembark. That’s so strange. Why would they—?’

‘What passengers?’ Jondar asks warily.

Dwyer hands him the tablet.

I don’t think I’ve ever heard Jondar use language like that before.

 

 

Chapter 2

By the time we return to the palace, I’m actually ready to strangle each and every one of them. Rhenna for the over-possessive floor show, Zander for being Zander and Petra for acting weird. I’m not just upset, I’m furious. Not that I can let anyone see that. And of course, Con is nowhere to be found.

Because why would he be where he’s meant to be? He’s the ruler of this absurd, obstinate world. So of course he’s missing.

I march through the gallery, my hands in fists at my side. Various people take one look and get out of my way. Only my bodyguard, Beq, follows me, keeping a discrete distance. I’m still aware of him though. He’s not that inconspicuous.

I make my way to the other side of the remaining wing where Con has his study now. He wanted to be close to the site of his old study, as if something of the former lingers here. I climb the narrow, winding staircase.

I feel Aeron’s mind brush against mine. So he’s there too – in spirit if not in body –peering through Con’s eyes at his inventions. As one of the Rondet, we’ve communed before, but it’s Con he’s closest to. They have the same interests, the same enquiring minds.

The door is closed and there is no sign of the guards who are meant to be outside it. Which means he invited them in again. He’s probably using them as brute strength or guinea pigs. I give Beq a look and he finds a point on the wall to study intensely rather than meet my eyes.

Great. They always stick together.

I ought to hammer on the door until he opens it. There’s no one to see. I’d barely be making a scene. But Anthaeus is rubbing off on me. Instead I use the coms unit on my wrist, ornately decorated like a bracelet and a gift from him. I love it for its beauty, its ingenuity and the thought behind it.

But right now I’m less than enamoured with him.

‘I know you’re in there, Con. Open the door.’

The response is a not so regal curse and I hear someone running to the door. It’s dragged open and his guard Kelvin stands there, six feet of muscles, bright red with embarrassment to match his red hair. He’s unable to meet my gaze in his guilt. Behind him, taking up the secondary defensive position I see Con’s other guard, Dex, looking if possible, even more sheepish.

The room is small and cramped, space being something of a premium shortly after the liberation. It’s a far cry from the enormous, glass-domed top room that used to be his study. That doesn’t seem to be a problem for my engineer though. He has it crammed to the ceiling with every bit of equipment he could salvage and he only keeps adding to the collection.

Con is bent over something on the bench, lights all trained on it and a huge pair of magnifying goggles on his face. His hair is everywhere and he’s wearing the same simple linen shirt he put on for breakfast.

‘Bel! Come and look at this.’ Con’s voice rings out in delight and despite my annoyance there’s a thrill inside me at the sound. He looks like a child on the morning of his birthday and he’s holding out his hands to encircle something that looks like a lump of Anthaese crystal.

‘You’re meant to be at the reception. Zander just got here.’

The glee on his face dampens. He glances at Liette, one of his assistants, who doesn’t make eye-contact with me. She’s a pretty girl in her early twenties, golden haired with cornflower blue eyes that look over-large in her slender face. She obviously idolises Co. . .