"Fix your hair; it's a mess, and we have company later."

The first words Cassia Coulter heard as she came home from her first term at school weren't as positive as she hoped, and she felt Doriophan slink between her legs, butting his head against her ankles for comfort. If mother was this tense, something had happened to set her off, and that did not bode well for a fun return.

"Yes, mother," she acquiesced, but, making sure to pick up Doriophan and hold him in her arms securely first, decided to tentatively seek the affirmation she'd expected upon her arrival. "But first-"

"First?" Her mother's tone was sharp, and Cassia felt Doriophan flinch. She just thanked the Authority that her mother's golden dæmon wasn't in the room; he unnerved Rio.

"I was simply going to ask if you had received my results yet. I was somewhat expecting them to be the first thing you mentioned."

And she was. Cassia had slaved all term to get the results she did, and given her mother's expectation for her to excel she had presumed that there would be some form of praise upon her return. She'd barely even seen any of her peers outside of class or study sessions, and her results had reflected the work she put in. She was probably more proud of them than she'd been when her mother had deemed her mature enough to start wearing heeled shoes when she was fourteen.

"Oh, yes, I received them about an hour ago. They were adequate, I suppose, for the first term, when you're still settling in, but I expect you to do better when you return."

"I was in the top ten!"

In her shock and, though she attempted to hide it, hurt, she had inadvertently allowed her voice to become a yell, and immediately regretted it at the sight of her mother's perfectly-groomed eyebrow raising, and her golden monkey sauntering into the room with far too casual an air.

"Yes, next term I would like you to reach the top three, I think. We can't have people thinking you're merely average, now can we? You'll never get a proper job in the Church that way. When you return, I expect you to put your head down and start working, like the intelligent young woman I know I raised."

Cassia deflated, all her anger draining away, though her grip on Rio tightened as he let out a small, barely audible mewl. Tears burned the back of her eyes but she refused to let them fall, so she just stood there in front of the lift, unsure of what to do next.

Seeing her hesitation, her mother softened and beckoned her over to her for a hug. Cassia opened her arms for Rio to jump out of and rushed over for the physical confirmation that her mother wasn't angry. Her mother's sleek blonde hair tickled her cheeks, but Cassia found herself unwilling to move it. "You know I only want the best for you. I only want you to reach your full potential, not squander your life away on foolishly seeking fun as a child."

"Yes, mother," Cassia choked out, straightening her spine and disentangling herself from the hug to look her mother in the eye as seriously as she could. "I won't let you down."

"I know, darling," her mother said, reaching over to fuss with one of Cassia's curls. "Now go and sort yourself out. I have a surprise for you before the party tonight."

Not wanting to make her mother repeat herself, Cassia smiled at her quickly and nodded before walking past her down the corridor to her bedroom. As soon as the door shut, Rio jumped onto the bed. "What do you think the surprise is?"

He never spoke in front of her mother, never had. The relationship between her mother and her monkey dæmon had always seemed slightly distant, and Cassia and Rio had been quick to pick up on it. They didn't know how, but somehow the monkey could bear to be further from her mother than Rio from her - as far as completely different rooms in the apartment. As a general rule, he tried to stay out of her way as much as he could.

"I don't know. She's in a strange mood. A new dress, perhaps? You know she likes to dress me up when we have people over."

Rio shook his head. "I don't think so. She'd have given it to you then, before you went to start getting ready."

"Alright, so what do you think it is?" Cassia asked, opening her wardrobe to try and choose an outfit. There was no point in doing her hair first, since pulling clothes over head would mess it up anyway, and her mother had taught her that the right clothes could draw eyes away from a small flaw in hair or makeup.

"I don't know, that's why I asked you," Rio snarked, flicking his tail lazily in amusement when Cassia shot him an irritated look.

"Whatever. Come over here and help me choose what to wear. I want to make mother happy so she'll forget about my terrible results."

"Your results were brilliant," Doriophan reminded her, but he jumped off the bed and peered up at the clothes in her wardrobe with her. She'd had enough clothes to require a walk-in wardrobe for as long as she could remember, and even so it was still too cramped. Rio was much better than her at spotting smaller items of clothing crushed between others, given his superior eyesight, and, honestly, no matter what she chose he would critique it enough she gave control back to him anyway. She liked to give him whatever power she could, given the dismissive view her mother had appointed to him ever since he settled. She'd been disappointed, Cassia supposed, at the form he'd taken - cats were a rather common dæmon, nothing like her mother's. Still, though it was both biased and vain, Cassia rather thought Rio was far prettier than any other cat dæmon she'd seen, with his glossy black fur and startling green eyes.

"Go for the navy dress with the Bardot sweetheart neckline. You know, the one with the puffy skirt and all the flowers. If it's a Church party, she'll appreciate the knee-length skirt; if it's not, it's still a good fit for your figure."

Cassia pulled the dress out and inspected it carefully. Rio was right, the modest skirt paired with a form-fitting waist and slight hint of cleavage was flattering yet still Church-appropriate. Besides, when she'd bought the dress without her mother prompting her choice, her mother had beamed with pride.

She quickly changed into it and pulled on a pair of pale pink heeled pumps, before sitting down in front of the mirror. She'd need to do her makeup first, of course, since if her face looked ugly she'd be utterly unable to tell if the hair styling was adequate. Still, she took a moment as she sat down to inspect her face.

It was widely said that her mother was one of the most beautiful women in the world, and Cassia found it easy to believe. Even without her obvious physical beauty, there was an indomitable strength to her that was captivating to watch.

Cassia inherited some of it. She was pretty, for a teenager, though obviously she lacked some of the beauty that maturity, or finishing puberty brought. Her mother's high cheekbones were marred by the traces of baby fat she still retained, and she had always looked fairly young for her age. Less like a sixteen year old, and more like she was thirteen or fourteen. Still, there was no denying that she was pretty, despite looking quite different to her mother. She'd inherited her father's blue eyes over her mother's dark ones; her father's dark waves over her mother's straight blonde locks. Sometimes she wondered if her mother ever hated her for it.

She was well aware of her history, after all, despite what her mother chose to believe. Marisa van Zee married Edward Coulter fairly young for political power, then had her. When she was about four, she distinctly remembered her mother being pregnant again, but supposedly losing the baby. When her mother told her her father died as a victim of cold-blooded murder, Cassia thought it best not to tell her that she remembered her father's rage, his rants of a child not his own. He had gone to kill the living baby of another man, and come back dead.

Surely her mother hated him. He killed her baby. Cassia hated him too when she thought that she could have had a sister, even just a half-sister, if not for him. She hated him when she forgot about the fond memories of childhood and remembered instead the night he swore and blustered and terrified her as he made plans to kill an innocent child.

"You're going to be late," Rio drawled as Cassia blinked the thoughts away and realised she'd been sat at the mirror for ten minutes and not done anything.

"I'm not," she returned, and began preparing herself. At sixteen, her mother didn't allow much makeup, but Cassia knew what she was doing with what she had. She didn't need much anyway - just a coral eyeshadow to match the flowers on the dress, and some mascara to highlight the fact that she did in fact actually have eyes. Clear skin and strong eyebrows were a gift from her mother, and as such her beauty routine was fairly short.

Having no time to sort out the frizz which had been wrecked by sleeping on the Zeppelin home, Cassia quickly braided it into a crown as close to her head as possible. Hopefully the escaping wisps would look less like she'd been dragged through a hedge and more like an artistic choice.

"Lovely," Rio commented impatiently as she surveyed herself, walking over to the doorway. "Now can we see what this surprise is?"

"Why are you so invested?" Cassia asked in amusement, though she did open the door and start following him to the main living room. "You've never cared this much about other surprises."

"I don't know. I just feel strange."

"Strange how?"

"Like something's going to happen."

"What on earth could happen at one of mother's parties? They may be the dullest events in the world."

"I don't know, Cassia. I just feel like this surprise is important."

Cassia regarded him, unsure of how to feel. She'd never seen Doriophan so unsure before, or so agitated. Usually he liked to pretend he knew everything. "Alright," she said, stopping before the door, ignoring the servants setting up. "So what-"

"Who are you?" A childish voice interrupted her, and Cassia turned, confused, to see a young girl looking at her suspiciously, her dæmon resting on her shoulder in the form of some kind of rodent she didn't recognise.

"Who are you?" Cassia retorted, bemused at the question being aimed at her in her own home.

The little girl turned her chin up, looking more proud than she had any right to be at her age. "Like I'll tell a trespasser anything."

Trespasser? If anybody here was a trespasser, it would have to be the child, Cassia surmised, given that she was too young to be invited and her outfit most certainly didn't resemble that of the servants. Besides, anybody who belonged in her home should know who she was. "I believe you have me mistaken for somebody else... and most likely this apartment too."

Shaking her head, the child stood her ground. "I know where I am, it's you that 'ent got a clue."

Well, that was mildly surprising. The girl's dress was of fine quality and looked rather expensive, with a similar style to those Cassia had worn at her age, but her accent and speech were of a child raised on the street. It was rather jarring to notice the contrast between sight and sound.

"Cassia," her mother's voice called from inside the main living room, and Cassia quickly entered, unwilling to keep her waiting after an already rocky start. To her surprise, the girl followed behind her, but her mother didn't seem to miss a beat. "Ah, I see you've met my assistant already. Well, that does ruin the surprise rather."

Cassia blinked and looked at Rio, who appeared to be just as bewildered. "Assistant?" Why on earth would her mother choose a little girl to assist her when she had Church funding for whatever she required?

"Yes," her mother said calmly, taking no note of the shock colouring Cassia's tone. "She's been quite indispensable. I thought it would be quite nice for you two to meet before the party, get to know each other as the only two children in the house."

What was it, Cassia wondered, with the adult assumption that all children were the same? She didn't know a single other sixteen year old who would actively desire to spend much time with a little twelve year old, as the girl looked to be.

There was no way she would voice this thought to her mother, though, so she instead turned to the girl, who looked to be rather confused too. "What's your name then?" She asked the girl, unwilling to keep calling her by descriptors if she did indeed belong there.

The girl's brown eyes darted to Cassia's mother, and she only answered when they received an affirming nod. "Lyra," she stayed. "Lyra Belaqua, and this is Pantalaimon. What about you?"

"Cassia Coulter," Cassia replied, taking a small satisfaction in seeing Lyra's mouth open in surprise. At least she wasn't the only one who was shocked by the events of the day, though she would have hoped that her mother would have at least mentioned her. "My dæmon's name is Doriophan. I suppose yours is still unsettled."

"Yes," Lyra said, scowling at the thought of that changing. "Is he?"

"I'm sixteen. He settled years ago."

"Oh. You don't look it."

Cassia flushed at the comment, sick of the constant references to her short height and baby face. It wouldn't be so bad in a couple of years when she would look sixteen, but it was torture to be constantly asked about her dæmon settling when Rio had been a cat for years. She wasn't actually a child anymore, despite the baby fat. Still, with her mother right there, clearly wanting them to get along, she bit her tongue. For whatever reason, her mother had chosen Lyra to be her assistant, which meant disrespect would be reflected onto her, and not tolerated.

The conversation died after the obligatory introductions, Lyra looking sullen for some reason and Cassia just unsure of what else to actually say. She didn't have much experience with children younger than her, and honestly she was still a little confused as to why the girl was there. What point would there be in getting to know her if she'd be gone in a few days, when her mother realised the absurdity of hiring a twelve year old with the vocabulary of a servant.

"How lovely," Cassia's mother smiled, looking unusually pleased. "Lyra, darling, could you please go and start helping set up? Guests will be arriving soon. Cassia, a word, please."

As Lyra obeyed, Cassia took a seat, hoping to receive an explaination. "Your assistant is a thirteen year old girl."

"Twelve, actually," her mother corrected. "I find it refreshing to see the childish wonder for exploring. I must have lost that years ago."

"How did you even meet?" Cassia asked, pushing down the internal questioning of why her mother never asked her to join in with her work. Thoughts like that would lead her nowhere. "I can't imagine your work brings you into contact with many children."

"Of course not," her mother said sharply, looking up with an almost glare on her face, before it smoothed over as quickly as it came. "Lyra was raised at Jordan College. A friend of mine there wondered if I'd like to take her on."

A twelve year old girl was raised at Jordan College? The last time Cassia checked, that particular institute only patronised adult men. Her less than positive expression must have shown on her face, because her mother took her hands with an imploring look in her eye. "Cassia, I do hope you can get along. Lyra's been here for about six weeks, and I've grown to quite depend on her."

"She's lived here for a month and a half." Cassia stood up, uncertain as to why that fact upset her so much. She pulled her hands away and took a step back, instinctively seeking Rio.

"What is it?" Her mother sighed impatiently.

"There's been somebody living in my home for six weeks and you didn't feel the need to inform me."

Standing up too, her mother towered over her. "No, I didn't, seeing as you weren't actually home for it to affect you. You were informed when you arrived back, when it became pertinent information."

"Of course," Cassia bit out, conscious of the servants scurrying around and setting up. "Excuse me."

She strode out of the room, Rio following with dignity, though she could feel his wariness of the golden monkey watching from the corner of the room. The urge to slam the door like a child was resisted, but when she saw Lyra's face peeking out of another room, she couldn't bring herself to offer a friendly smile.

In the safety of her own bedroom, she collapsed onto her bed, burrowing her face into Rio's fur. "It's like she's replacing us," he muttered bitterly, shifting slightly to rest his paw on her back. "With a less refined version of us."

"That's mean, Rio," Cassia reprimanded, though the sentiment was slightly lost through a mouthful of fur. "It's not her fault mother chose her."

Though her words were accepting, inside Cassia was raging. She was made into a stranger in her own home, knowing less than some girl from Oxford about the workings of the place she'd been raised. It was childish, but it wasn't fair!

A knock at the door made her sit up and straighten her outfit on autopilot. "Come in," she called, feeling rather like her mother in allowing or disallowing entry. To her disappointment, it was Lyra who opened the door with an awkward air. "What is it?"

Lyra shifted, shutting the door behind her. It was petty, but Cassia found herself watching the girl, looking for what she had that she didn't. "I just wanted to say... I dunno. Just that I didn't know Mrs Coulter had a daughter before, so I thought I might have been a bit unproper or something."

Technically she had been improper, accusing Cassia of being an intruder in her own home, but the girl was apologising, and also a whole four years younger, so she allowed it. "Not at all. In truth, I was rather unprepared for you too, so we're on even footing."

Apologies done, an uncomfortable silence filled the room, until Cassia decided to at least make an attempt at conversation. Her mother wanted them to get along, and she had just told Rio that it wasn't Lyra's fault she was her mother's chosen replacement. If she acted like a hyprocrite he'd never let her live it down. "I hear you grew up at Jordan. Were you a student there?"

"Not really," Lyra said, glad to have something to say. "Some of the scholars gave me lessons but I 'ent a student. I was meant to go to St Sophia's when I'm old enough."

"It's a good school," Cassia acknowledged. "I considered attending Sophia's, but in the end I opted for Saint Bartholomew's College."

"They don't allow girls at Saint Barth's."

"Not usually. My father was a student there, and since he had no son to pass on his place to, mother was able to pull a few strings and get me an interview and the chance to take the entry exam. I'm the only female student, but there are a few other girls around to spend time with - the children of scholars and such. Besides, I think mother is rather hoping I find an appropriate husband there, since Sophia's is girls-only."

Lyra frowned at that for some reason. "You're too young to get married."

"Obviously. But the best way to get a good position in society these days is through marriage, since the path of priesthood is barred to women. Mother was married when she was eighteen, I'll likely do the same."

Lyra shivered and stuck her tongue out in disgust. "I'm never getting married."

Cassia forced back a laugh, aware that she would probably offend Lyra if she did. "You'll probably feel differently when you're older."

"You're not much older than me."

"My dæmon's settled," Cassia pointed out, the clearest marker of maturity possible. It was nice to be the older one for a change.

"I don't ever want Pan to settle either."

Her mother was right, Cassia decided. Lyra's childish, honest outlook was refreshing compared to the double meanings and politics of most of the adults she knew. She'd only known her for a few minutes, but there was an endearing charm to her.

Behind her, Rio shifted closer to her, looking over her leg to get a closer look at Pantalaimon. "I liked settling. I feel more myself now. More comfortable."

"Your dæmon's very pretty," Lyra remarked carelessly, clearly trying to change the subject away from settling. "Your dress, too. And your room. Mine's lovely, but it's not very me yet. I suppose I haven't been there long enough to leave my mark. Are you really Miss Coulter's daughter?"

"Yes," Cassia replied, slightly distracted by the rambling.

"I'm an orphan," Lyra said, and Cassia felt a stab of guilt for her feelings of resentment at being replaced. She didn't know what she'd do if she didn't have her mother. "Your mother's very nice. I think she must be a very good one."

"She is," Cassia said, standing up and walking over to Lyra, Rio following. "The best. And I know she cares about you too, otherwise you wouldn't be here."

"As her assistant."

"She's never had a twelve year old assistant before. She likes you, Lyra. She may not be your mother but I bet she'd act like it if you wanted. I bet she's already been dressing you and teaching you all kinds of things."

Sacrifice was a good thing. The Authority demanded it all the time in the Scripture, from Abraham and Paul and others, so it must be. Generosity, too, was a holy act. Sharing her mother with an orphan, even if it made her feel a bit odd, could only be a good act.

"Geography, mostly," Lyra agreed. "I want to go North and be an explorer."

"I'd hate the North," Cassia admitted ruefully, wishing it wasn't true so perhaps she could be invited on her mother's excursions. "I can't abide the cold. If I had to explore, I think I'd go South to research Zombis or something, but I'd rather stay home."

"What are Zombis?" asked Lyra, looking excited at the prospect of fresh ideas of exotic things to learn about.

"I don't know, exactly. We haven't actually covered them at school, I just read a short paragraph about them in something else. From what I can gather, they're some kind of half-man - they function, but they're not properly alive like you and me. You'd be better off asking mother; I think she wrote a bit about them in The Bronze Clocks of Benin."

As Pantalaimon scampered up her arm, Lyra let out a small shrug. "I'd rather ask her about armoured bears. Did you know they have poisonous livers? I wish I had a poisonous liver so if anyone tried to kill me I could shove my liver in their face and they'd have to stop."

"I'm not sure that's quite how that works," Cassia started, but thought better of continuing when she saw the excited look on Lyra's face. "But I'm sure you'll be a wonderful explorer."

"What do you want to do?" Lyra asked abruptly. "Since you don't want to explore."

"I don't really know. I suppose I'll go into politics or something."

"That sounds boring," Lyra said, and privately Cassia had to agree. To be honest, every job she'd ever heard about sounded boring. In an ideal world she would be able to just not do anything, but she somehow doubted her mother would support that.

Through the door, Cassia heard her mother calling for her, and gave an apologetic smile to Lyra. "The party must have started. Do you want to go in with me? I know most of mother's regular guests, I can introduce you."

"I can't." Lyra shook her head. "I 'ent a guest like you. I'm supposed to be giving people drinks and stuff."

"I'll speak to you afterwards, then," Cassia promised, ushering Lyra and Pan out of her room so she could lock it. There was nothing she hated more than people looking for the bathroom accidentally wandering into her private space.

Hearing her mother call again, she quickly reached down to smooth Rio's fur before walking as quickly as possible without looking foolish into one of the rooms accessible for guests. Mother hated having to repeat instructions. Upon her entry, the party around her mother all looked up, giving Cassia the distinct impression they had just been talking about her. Pushing down the surge of uneasiness she felt, she forced a smile on her face and stride forward to join them.

"Lord Boreal, Mr Kircher, Father Garret, it's a pleasure to see you again. I see you all far too infrequently for my liking."

"The grievance is, of course, mutual," Lord Boreal acknowledged, his expression one of distaste towards her presence. He had always frightened Cassia a little, though she'd never been able to pinpoint why. Her mother loathed him too, though in person she was always well beyond the requirements of cordiality.

In contrast, Mr Kircher looked positively ecstatic to see her. "Cassia Coulter, haven't you grown up wonderfully. My Edward goes to school with you, and he's quite besotted."

Edward Kircher was a lovely boy, and would probably be a good match in her mother's opinion. His father, Athanasius, was the author of Polymathestatos: A Festschrift in honour of Joscelyn Godwin, which was so highly regarded that the family gained both riches and political power.

With the glow of the certainty of her mother's approval, evidenced by her surprised but pleased smile, as well as the knowledge that, of all the boys she attended school with Edward was one of the nicest and therefore would likely make a much more pleasant husband, Cassia allowed her smile to grow softer, and carefully tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear just like her mother had taught her. "Oh, yes, Edward's a simply wonderful boy. He's in my study group and I must say his mind is truly brilliant, it's a marvel to spend time with him."

Mr Kircher laughed good-naturedly, but Father Garret and Lord Boreal's expressions hardened at the small talk. Her mother clearly noticed too, as she clasped Cassia's shoulder and gently pushed her away. "Go make some more introductions, Cassia, darling. I expect you to be a good host to our guests while I take care of some business for the moment."

Whatever they needed to talk about, Cassia clearly wasn't supposed to hear it, so she gladly took the opportunity to flee and hopefully find a guest she knew better to talk to. "Yes, mother. Is Princess Postnikova in attendance?"

"Unfortunately, no, she had a prior obligation today, but she did request I pass her regards on to you. Now, go."

Well, that was Cassia's best hope ruled out, she thought glumly as she searched for a familiar face who didn't bore her to tears. The Princess was only a couple of years older than her, and far more interesting than any of the old politicians and priests who were always invited. When she attended, she usually sought Cassia out to talk about literally anything other than religion or academia.

She wandered aimlessly for a few minutes, peering into rooms and smiling in a friendly way at guests as she passed, but making no real effort to engage in conversation. There was an odd tension in the air, guests stopping their conversations when she passed by far more than usual. Either there was something big happening in government that hadn't reached the news yet, or there was a scandal that people thought she was too young to know about. Cassia was leaning towards the latter, and the thought annoyed her. She had reached womanhood years ago when Rio settled, she was more than old enough to hear about some stupid political scandal.

While away at school she had somehow managed to forget how unbearable mother's parties were.

At least Lyra was suffering along with her this time. Cassia caught a glimpse of her occasionally, holding a tray of champagne glasses and wearing the expression of a girl about to drop dead from boredom. Not for the first time, Cassia was thankful for having the ability to put on a faux-interested face so as not to offend the leaders of the country.

Excusing herself from joining a conversation about the Magisterium's plan to open a new Academy, she finally caught sight of a person she wanted to speak to and had to actively restrain a squeal. "Uncle!" She exclaimed, weaving through guests with the first genuine smile of the night. "I didn't know you were coming. It's been ages."

Her uncle turned around with open arms, which Cassia gladly flung herself into. Marcel Delamare wasn't in London very often, his work being centred in Geneva, but he adored his family. "I told your mother I wasn't, but I heard about your guest and I wanted to make sure you were alright."

"Me? Why wouldn't I be alright?" Cassia asked in confusion at the concern, watching her uncle's snowy owl dæmon flutter it's wings nervously.

Her uncle chuckled, looking around at the other guests, but the sound was slightly off. "Ah... well, not everybody particularly likes having people they don't know living with them. When you were eight you said you were going to run away because your mother had a visitor stay with you for three days."

"I was eight, Uncle," Cassia emphasised, but there was something strange about his answer. It was like the entire party was keeping something from her, her uncle included. The thought made her feel uncomfortable, so she returned back to the happiness of a family reunion. "Have you seen my end of term results from Saint Bart's?"

"Not yet, but I'm sure you can tell me."

"I placed eighth in the year!"

Her uncle's face split into a grin, and Cassia found herself mirroring it automatically. Finally, somebody was as proud of her work as she was. "You are just like your mother. Give you a few years and I'm sure you'll be running your own subdivision of the Magisterium."

The praise was exaggerated, but the comparison to her mother made Cassia beam with pride. "Thank you, Uncle. Oh, have you given any thought as to allowing me to visit Geneva? Mother goes North soon, and likely won't be at home when my next holiday comes around. I know there aren't many women at your work, but I would stay at your residence and not cause any bother, or perhaps do some sightseeing. I am capable of taking care of myself, I promise."

"A well stated case," her uncle remarked. "Of course you are welcome, though I may not be able to spend much time with you. Any minute I get to spend with family is a blessing. If you want, you may bring a friend to keep you company in the day."

"Thank you!" Cassia exclaimed, feeling Rio perk up at her feet. Her uncle's owl, Andromeda, fluttered to the floor and softly stroked Rio with her wing as Cassia once again hugged her uncle. She had been dreading spending the next holiday alone, or with some chaperone her mother would arrange, who would likely be awfully dull. Besides, Geneva was a lot warmer than London.

"Is your mother home? I would like to speak to her about something," her uncle asked, carefully extracting himself from the hug. His tone changed, becoming harsher, and Cassia took a quick step back.

"She's talking to Lord Boreal and Father Garret. I don't think I'm allowed too near that kind of conversation."

"A pity, I cannot stay long. I shall simply have to express myself to her in writing. Be good, Cassia."

Cassia blinked. "You're leaving already?"

Her uncle nodded, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, but I was only passing through London. I managed a quick stop to make sure you weren't too upset, but I must be back in Geneva post-haste. Heretics seem to grow on trees these days."

"I can pass your message to my mother along for you," Cassia offered, unwilling to cause a scene at an event, though she had been unable to prevent her face from falling slightly.

"I'm afraid that's not a good idea. There are certain things that are entirely unsuitable for you to hear."

Of course there were. Both Cassia's mother and her uncle were highly regarded within the Church, so obviously there was sensitive information they were privy to. Still, something about his tone made Cassia wonder if perhaps the conversation he wanted was more personal. What it could be about that she couldn't be told, though, she had no idea.

"Of course," she said graciously, hiding her desire to know more. Her uncle didn't like withholding information from her usually, but he loved her mother and would never tell her anything she didn't want her to know. "I'll see you next term then, I suppose."

"I look forward to it," her uncle smiled, tucking a wisp of hair behind her ear. "But I really must be going. Come, Andromeda, we mustn't miss our flight."

He left, and Cassia noticed absently that the lift was unlocked. It usually was, during parties, but the sight was still odd, and made her slightly uncomfortable. The idea of anybody being able to walk into her home at their leisure wasn't one she cherished, despite the knowledge that her mother would never allow such a thing to happen. She resisted the urge to go and lock it, a strange sense of paranoia washing over her.

"Cassia," Rio hissed, scratching at her leg, though he had retracted his claws enough that there would be no red lines. Cassia couldn't even imagine what her mother would say if she was at a party covered in scratches and cuts. "We need to mingle. Stop staring at the lift."

"Right," Cassia muttered as she slowly turned around, preparing herself for an afternoon of small talk. For possibly the first time, she wished that this was one of her mother's parties thrown for her to attract a future husband. At least then Edward Kircher or someone else she could hold conversation deeper than politics or the weather with would be there. "Lady Dustin, it's so good to see you! How are Eliza and Jennifer?"

Twenty minutes later, all Cassia had learned was that Jennifer had learned to say "Authority" and was therefore destined for greatness, while Eliza had started wanting to wear trousers like her father, which was completely unacceptable. Personally, Cassia couldn't see a problem with it, though she wasn't sure why anybody would want to wear trousers when skirts are far prettier. There was so little variation in men's clothing - at least, for the men Cassia would be allowed to associate with. She didn't really know what Gyptians or anyone else wore.

The rest of the conversation centred around a man in Iyreland who was trying to get into Brytain to spread heretical views here. Apparently he believed in some nonsense about The Authority being dead, but Cassia wasn't particularly worried. There were thousands of heretics, but the Magisterium were more than capable of protecting the people from them, her uncle especially. The chances she'd ever meet one were infinitesimally small.

The conversation came to a halt when Lyra barrelled past her, grabbing her by the arm on the way. The girl was practically shaking, tears swimming in her eyes, but she looked at Cassia with defiance once they came to a stop in what Cassia assumed was Lyra's bedroom. "Did you know?" Lyra demanded, and Cassia was left at a loss. Lyra's behaviour was absurd.

"Know what?"

"That she's a Gobbler!" Lyra exploded, though with a terrified glance at the shut door she lowered her voice halfway through the sentence. Pan circled Rio carefully in the form of a fox, bigger than Rio was. Despite the obvious predatory actions, he looked more cautious than anything else, like he was ready to defend himself.

Cassia paused for a second, feeling like she was in a dream. Words were coming out of Lyra's mouth but she had no idea what they were. "Who's a Gobbler? What is a Gobbler?"

"Child-snatchers," Lyra wailed, and Cassia took a step back. Her mother's assistant didn't seem to be entirely with it. "They took Roger."

Now Cassia was convinced that something was wrong. Whatever stories Lyra had heard about kidnappers, there was likely to be little truth to them. When she was twelve, she had believed in people born without dæmons coming to steal Rio away from her, and that was completely made up. Still, Lyra was erratic, and she didn't want to upset her further by accidentally implying that she thought she was crazy, or a liar. "Who's a child-snatcher?" It wasn't as though she and Lyra had many mutual acquaintances... none that she knew of, for that matter.

"Mrs Coulter!" Lyra hissed, but Pantalaimon backed away from Rio, turning into his rodent form again and scampering into Lyra's hand. Clearly whatever threat they had sensed in Cassia had disappeared. "She's head Gobbler!"

"I-" Cassia started, but found that she didn't know what to say. Closing her mouth, she looked at Rio with a bewildered stare. "I need to get back to the party. Are you... are you alright?"

"Yes," Lyra said, seeming to recover from whatever was upsetting her with the flip of a switch. "I think I might need a bit of a rest. I'm very tired. Sorry for dragging you in here, you can go back now."

She plonked down on the bed, smiling more sweetly than seemed natural. Perturbed, Cassia just nodded and exited, seeking out her mother to see if Lyra needed somebody to talk to about something. Believing in local legends as a child was one thing, believing your guardian was some kind of villain in a story was another. Maybe Lyra was simply tired, but Cassia felt like she might need some form of professional help. Her mother would know better than she did.

As she entered the corridor, there was a line of guests exiting, all gossiping among themselves. Cassia frowned. The party wasn't due to finish for hours, which meant something must have happened. Upon her entry, she gained multiple stares, and found herself growing slightly scared. What was going on?

Before any guests approached her, her mother rushed over, gripping Cassia's arm hard enough to bruise. "Have you seen Lyra?" She asked desperately, her eyes intense.

Cassia jerked her arm free with a wince. "She's in her bedroom. I think she's upset or tired or something. What's going on?"

Before she even finished speaking, her mother rushed past her towards Lyra's bedroom. Looking over and seeing Lord Boreal oversee the guests' exit, she chose to follow her mother to seek answers. Speaking with Boreal was intimidating enough with her mother there, there was no way she would approach him alone,

When she reached Lyra's room, Cassia stopped dead still. The room was empty, and her mother was half-hanging out of the window, shrieking her assistant's name. She rushed over and pulled her back inside, and her mother immediately snapped out of her desperate state. "What did she say to you, Cassia?" She asked, and her tone was more serious than Cassia had every heard it before.

"I told you, she was upset. She dragged me in here speaking some nonsense about you being a Goblin or something-"

"Gobbler," her mother interrupted, her voice dark. "And why didn't you prevent her from leaving?"

"Prevent her from leaving? Mother, she's your assistant. Why on earth would I stop her? It's not like we keep prisoners at the apartment. Besides, she said she was going to have a nap or something and told me to leave."

With an unholy scream, her mother wrenched the door open again and stormed out, striding over to Lord Boreal. The other guests were all gone but he remained by the lift, his expression cold. "The girl?" He asked, and Cassia felt like crying. How was it that everybody seemed to know something she didn't? Why would Lord Boreal of all people care about a twelve year old girl?

"Organise a search," her mother ordered, and Cassia felt her blood run cold. She froze in the middle of the hallway, the pieces beginning to click into place.

Lyra was a twelve year old who her mother had a strange, vested interest in, and who had caught the attention of the Magisterium enough that her mother could command search parties to scour the country with the support of her often-political-rival, Lord Boreal.

"Lyra Belaqua," she mouthed, sounding out the name in her mouth. It felt bitter, and something inside of her snapped. "Lyra Belaqua."

"Cassia," her mother called, and she felt herself drawn back in to reality. "What are you doing just standing in the hall? Come and make yourself useful."

"Mother," she forced out, and saw her shoulders tense at the tone. "She's my sister, isn't she?"