Chapter Eight

truth is like blood underneath your fingernails

Piper

Kitty was late.

Piper put on her best smile as she listened to yet another guest smoothly insinuating she'd only donate if their record was cleared. Piper nodded along—a picture of grace and serenity—all the while shooting quick glances to the front door in search of Kitty's grey-black hair in the mass of black dresses and tuxes. She once more found disappointment instead as another unremarkable head entered the room. The conversation carried on, moving to topics such as the economy and plans for the future of London. Piper responded as vaguely as possible, careful to throw the smallest details here and there in order to pretend she was actually sharing something of value.

It was exhausting. She could feel her facial expression slipping with each interaction. After the week she'd had, having to top it off with an event where she had to smile and make breezy conversation seemed cruel. Piper felt old wishing that she could spend her Saturday night at home reading a book. Plus, after so many years as a magician, she should have better endurance. If only her master could see her now, Piper thought bitterly.

"I'm looking forward to receiving your proposal in the future, Madam Prime Minister," Emilia was saying. "I'm sure we'll be able to work something out to put this city back on its feet. So long as some past mistakes are… overlooked," she added with a lilt in her voice.

Piper grinned back to encourage her. "What mistakes?" she asked, receiving a pleased smirk in response.

"It was very nice to talk to you. We'll be in contact soon." And then she left, mingling with the crowd.

Piper sighed inwardly, wary of giving anyone the tiniest of clues into her mental state. Her surroundings were of no great help either. Devereaux's mansion in Richmond had been the chosen location to host this fundraiser. That's how it had been proposed to the Council, but Piper knew it was more of a desperate grab at important people's pockets in exchange for favours.

Regardless, the mansion served its purpose. In his arrogance and fear of being overthrown, Devereaux hadn't left a will. Piper supposed that if he had, most things would have gone to Makepeace, which would in turn be invalidated by the latter's death as well. No one had thought to redecorate, so now Piper was stuck facing stag heads because it was the nearest she could get both to the fireplace and the door while still doing her job. Even the stained-glass window still had a hole in it.

Apparently, during Devereaux's last masquerade, a frog had shot through it. Piper hadn't been there, so it could be a baseless rumour for all she knew. That seemed to be commonplace when it came to Devereaux's soirées. Not that she'd been to many; the ones she'd attended had mostly been to accompany John Mandrake as he insisted on bringing work with him whenever possible. She'd mostly found them overtly extravagant, especially the performances. And now she could say it too, seeing as Makepeace was nationally hated. It was the one that thing the Council managed to agree on.

Piper was brought back from her reverie when she heard the distinct sound of moving wheels behind her. Mr Button rolled up beside her in a shabby black suit. Piper was mildly surprised he had even bothered to wear one, but she would never tell him that.

"Are you attempting to hide in plain sight, Madam Prime Minister?" he asked with a quirked eyebrow.

Piper almost rolled her eyes. She disliked being called that, and Mr Button insisted on it simply to pester her. Instead, she gave him a tired, amused smile, and said, "I'm just taking a small break. I've already talked to eleven people tonight, and none of them were pleasant. So stay a while, will you? And tell me something good."

"Very well." He motioned to the green sofa on the other side of the vestibule, to which they moved in companionable silence. After Piper had graciously sat down and once again repressed a sigh—this time of relief, Mr Button added, "We've almost hit half of our estimated donations for tonight, and we're just in the first hour."

"I'm not sure that's good news. Most people come to these events with their mind made up."

"Hence your presence, and that of your peers. But you're the star of the show, and therefore just have to keep working your charm. Soon we'll have made a respectable amount." Almost as an afterthought, Mr Button added with his eyebrows meaningfully raised, "London certainly won't be rebuilt by well wishes and sheer will."

Piper pursed her lips. She appreciated Mr Button's realism and understood the reason behind this type of event—she was a magician-politician. However, at the moment what she needed was for someone to take a load off her shoulders. But she knew it had to be her doing this. She was the Prime Minister and while she felt absolutely exhausted, Piper had been trained to be persuasive, always. The sad part was that her greatest achievement in terms of persuasion was also why they were having such a big problem with North America.

"One problem at a time, my dear," Mr Button whispered affably as he gave her hand a few comforting pats. Piper smiled gratefully at him. "Now, I hate to be repetitive, but if you're looking for more pleasant company, you should talk to Mr Brunetti. Very agreeable gentleman. Possesses a great taste in literature."

Piper wanted to retort that that was the only reason why he found Brunetti agreeable, but she refrained. "In a minute."

They remained silent for a bit after that, and the hullabaloo of conversation seemed to recede from her mind. Piper allowed herself to close her eyes for the briefest moments, knowing Mr Button would alert her if someone approached. As she did, her other senses took charge, bringing her the smell of rain-soaked earth from the window as her bare arms started to prickle from the difference in temperature.

Then there was the sound of movement—clothes rustling, shoes clicking on the floor, glasses clinking together—and in wafted the pungent smell of alcohol from the cocktails and the champagne, the irresistible scent of fried shrimp, braised meat, and Stinking Bishop. She hadn't touched any of the food because she'd been so preoccupied, but now her stomach rumbled in indignation.

Piper felt recentred. She'd just needed a minute to breathe. So she opened her eyes again, and immediately found a dove in the crowd of ravens. She involuntarily frowned.

"Is that…?" she trailed off, knowing the answer.

"Sholto Pinn? The one and only," Mr Button said anyway, also sounding a bit put off.

The dress code for the event dictated the guests wear all black, to symbolise mourning for the fallen. Not that Piper cared much about colour schemes and the like—she had been barely involved in the planning—but she could predict an uncomfortable evening for him. But either he didn't care what others thought, or this was his way of rebelling.

Pinn was wearing an off-white suit with a white shirt underneath. Only his dress shoes and bowtie were black. His trusty, gold-rimmed monocle was pressed against his right eye and he kept turning his head in search of something or someone.

It seemed Pinn had been looking for them, because as soon as he noticed them, he started limping over as graciously as a human could under the circumstances.

"Madam Prime Minister, Mr Button."

"Mr Pinn. Please," Piper said as she motioned to the couch and shuffled to the right to give him more room.

"That's quite alright," he cordially refused, heavily leaning on his cane as he dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief. "I'm afraid I'll have to leave soon. I'm departing to India tomorrow to take care of some business."

"So soon? I thought you'd just arrived from Kenya this week."

Pinn gave her a noncommittal but graceful shrug, as if implying that business never slept. In a quieter voice, he said, "I came to warn you." He made a big show of folding and putting the handkerchief back in his breast pocket as a means to scan their surroundings. Piper did the same as she leaned in closer to him, not finding anything on planes one through three. Her nexus and the mansion's own were dormant as well. "A few days ago, I received word that something was amiss near Southwark Cathedral."

Mr Button frowned. "But that's outside the area affected by the hybrids." A glint of recognition flashed in his eyes. "Do you mean a hybrid was sighted there?"

"No, that's exactly what is odd." Pinn stole another furtive glance over his shoulder. "I took a few demons with me and walked around the area, and, sure enough, there was this faint energy coming from the Thames."

"From the Thames?" Piper asked, utterly confused. "I thought you said Southwark Cathedral."

"That's what I heard. But the further I investigated, the closer I got to the river. More specifically, closer to London Bridge."

"And you don't think this is simply residual magic? London is full of it, even before recent events," Mr Button stated.

"No, it was nothing of the sort. My demons confirmed it." He looked Piper in the eye, and added, "You should look into it."

Piper was about to protest that she already had too much on her plate without adding the pursuit of asinine rumours to her list, but Pinn was done talking. He readjusted his monocle, closed his pocket watch, and gave them a cordial nod of the head for the second time in five minutes.

"Enjoy the rest of the evening. I shall see you both soon."

Pinn didn't wait for a retort. He spun on his heel and headed for the door, stopping only to collect his overcoat from a spirit servant by the door. Piper and Mr Button were left sitting there in pensive silence.

Mr Button was the first to break it. "What do you think?"

"What do I think?" Piper scoffed. "I'm leaving for North America in a few days because some twat couldn't write a respectful peace treaty between the Empire and North America, and Pinn wants me to worry about some faint energy coming from a river? Not to mention this has to be his way of trying to get in my good graces. Lord knows why."

Piper thought she was finished, but the mention of the treaty always riled her up a little, so she added, "Who even wrote that thing anyway? Or better yet, why didn't you write it and save us the embarrassment?"

"I've been very busy with the housing situation. Not very many people are interested in opening their homes to others, as expected. And the Council is still fighting the idea of using the deceased magicians' houses as a temporary solution. So far, we have Malbindi's, Mortensen's and Farrar's, since they are the least popular among the commoners and magicians alike."

Piper shook her head, the many meetings of the last month and a half on her mind. Then, without giving it a second thought, she said, "Well, you can use mine."

Mr Button gave her a surprised look. "Are you sure? What about when you come back? And what about Liz—Ms Jones? I thought she was living with you after what happened earlier this week…"

"I'll move into John Mandrake's house when I get back." That only seemed to surprise Mr Button more. But she spoke again before he could. "Don't give me that look. He's a hero now. You don't open heroes' houses to strangers. The Council would have both of our heads. So, I'm moving in and they can try and stop me." As an afterthought, she added, "And I wouldn't worry about Kitty."

"You do realise you'll be leaving Ms Jones alone in that house for a bit before you return, yes? What if the Council protests anyway?"

Piper wanted to laugh at the idea. When Nathaniel got out of hospital, he needed to have a place to go back to. Piper was sure he wouldn't turn Kitty down, and when the Council found out he was alive… She almost wanted to stay just to see their faces.

"They won't."

Mr Button blinked in astonishment at her assured tone. "Very well." Then, after a pause, which he spent gazing in confusion at her, Mr Button cleared his throat and said softly, "Rebecca, you know you don't have to go. In fact, most of us wish you wouldn't."

"I know." Piper sighed, somewhat subdued by his use of her first name. "But I have to. That was their only condition, wasn't it? Besides, you'll keep everything running smoothly until I return, I'm sure. And… who knows? You might find help in unexpected places."

Mr Button gave her a suspicious look. "Now you're the one speaking in riddles. Is there anything I should know?"

She shook her head and looked up, set on changing the subject. She'd already said too much and these walls had ears. Figuratively, at least. There were no spirits stuck inside as far as she knew, but a ring of horlas and ghuls circled the mansion.

"You mentioned a Mr Brunetti?"

He gave her another lingering look before motioning in the general direction of the living room. "Tall, tanned, black hair combed back, speaks with his hands like every other good Italian."

Piper shook her head at him in amusement, but decided to count her blessings. Even if vague, it was a description, and Mr Button had dropped their previous topic without protest. "Thank you for that… colourful description, Mr Button."

He bowed his head in mock gratitude. "Always happy to serve."

Piper got up, immediately noticing how her feet didn't want to hold her weight again. She was reminded of why she preferred to endure these events standing and only sit down when she was back in the car.

But that was the least of her worries. Because just as Piper started walking with purpose towards the living room, a servant was coming from the kitchen. A servant carrying a tray filled with champagne flutes. For a moment, time seemed to slow down as her brain registered what was about to happen and searched for a solution in vain. She noticed the servant's horrified expression too as it also dawned on him what was about to happen.

Then time returned to normal, and for the second time that week, Piper found herself drenched to the bone.

The rain had been relentless all week, but it had been especially bad on Tuesday the 15th. What had started as a light morning drizzle had evolved to merciless pouring by evening. The grass of St James's Park splashed and sploshed under her boots, and her clothes clung to her uncomfortably. She shivered as the wind picked up.

Rebecca Piper was having an odd day.

She was considering extending that to week. Because precisely three days prior she'd received a summons at an ungodly hour of the night only to find Kathleen Jones waiting for her at the police station. Kitty had put up a brave front, but the fear in her eyes hadn't fooled her. And so Kitty had moved out of her shoddy room and in with her. There'd been some protests, suggestions of calling some friends to stay with, but Piper had balked at the idea. If a hybrid was tailing Kitty, then she obviously needed proper protection, and Piper could provide it. And so the chase had begun.

They hadn't much to go on, and the police were already spread thin. The hybrids Nathaniel and Bartimaeus hadn't taken care of were either in hiding, terrorising nearby cities, or tailing specific people. Piper couldn't help but see the connection between this, the hybrid that had attacked her, and Farrar's death. Which always led to flashbacks of Farrar's torn hospital bed and then some deep, soothing breaths to get them out of her head.

However, she'd never expected to actually be facing another hybrid quite so soon.

Piper had just left the last meeting of the day on that gloomy Tuesday and barely entertained the thought that she just might be able to visit Nathaniel, when Ronald Kingston had followed her outside, demanding a word. Piper had suggested they talked in her car, seeing as they were heading in the same direction and her visit to the Foreign Office would be brief. Everything had been going smoothly—well, as smoothly as things could go with a fifteen-year-old, entitled magician. They'd been passing by St James's Park and nearing her destination when Kingston had demanded that the car be stopped, after which he had practically jumped out and then run into the park, shouting at her over his shoulder that she follow.

That's how Piper had found herself standing in the middle of the park squinting up ahead at the hybrid. Night had put on its cloak early and gathered handfuls of angry clouds over their heads. Piper could see Ronald Kingston on her far left only because his long coat was swishing wildly around him. Her two djinn moved so fast that she could barely see them. Their attacks produced sudden and brief bursts of light, and through them she caught glimpses of the hybrid.

As far as she could tell, the hybrid was more demon than human at that point, but from the stature she could guess that the body had once belonged to an adult male. It was hard to be sure with that pair of mismatched wings and so many extra limbs and horns protruding from every centimetre. But that was probably for the best. It was easy to attach a person's identity to their body, which made it harder to fight. In the middle of the madness, Piper briefly wondered if the creature's true form was being displayed before her, or if Earth forced its own biological rules upon it.

"Come on, freak!" Ronald taunted.

Piper let out a nervous laugh, the adrenaline in her body still taking over most of her immediate reactions. The thrill of the hunt was intoxicating, and with four high-level djinn going against a hybrid-afrit weakened by the rain, Piper could almost taste victory. When she and Kingston were done with it, the Council would have to acknowledge her—the whole city too.

But then Piper saw its mouth open and grow, rows of sharp teeth glinting in the night. Before her two djinn could jump on him, the hybrid shot out a stream of fire. Piper dove to the ground, hitting her chin on a rock. She groaned as her mouth filled with dirt, grass and blood.

Suddenly Piper didn't feel like laughing anymore.

She looked up to find that Ezekiel had diverted the attack to the side and stood protectively before Piper in her preferred guise of a grey wolf. But Amare, her other djinni, had taken a direct hit and was running towards the lake in the guise of a seven-tailed jaguar to douse her tails. Piper wanted to shout at her for that ridiculous reaction and for leaving her exposed.

She heard Ronald whimpering to her left. One of his djinn was passed out a few metres away. The edges of its grizzly bear guise seemed to tremble away and turn into a kaleidoscopic show of colours. Meanwhile, the hybrid lunged at Ronald's other djinni—a regal bald eagle with mighty claws and powerful air magic—with his bare hands and bursts of fiery magic.

She coughed and moved to check on Ronald, who had remained down and was whining. While she did so, the hybrid grabbed the jaguar by her tails, swung her and threw her at the eagle, which wasn't fast enough to dodge. They were sent flying and landed in the water with a mighty splash. Piper winced.

Then the hybrid's eyes were on her, hungry and relentless. Piper felt her breath catch, and rushed to get up, Ronald's well-being momentarily forgotten. She took one wobbly step back, mind coming up blank when she tried to remember the words to summon another one of her spirit servants. Ezekiel tangled with the hybrid, firing Detonations and even one impressive Hurricane.

However, the hybrid deflected all the Detonations and dodged the Hurricane, reaching the wolf with vertiginous speed. Ezekiel was thrown to the ground and stomped on, her cry ringing from within Piper's brain long after it had subsided. She dismissed the wolf immediately, formula ready at the tip of her tongue, the fog in her mind receding far enough to allow it. The hybrid fixed its gaze on her, clearly surprised by her actions. Piper herself couldn't understand them, much less communicate them.

The connection was cut off when suddenly the hybrid hopped to the side as a smaller, brown wolf jumped on it, ruthlessly biting at its neck and scratching at its eyes. Piper tried to step back and fell on her back. There she remained, breathing heavily, with her eyes glued to the scene in front of her. The wolf kept eluding the increasingly annoyed and frustrated hybrid with its speed. At some point, the hybrid managed to shake the wolf off, sending it flying. However, the wolf spun around in the middle of the air, landing with surprising dexterity.

Ronald Kingston had ceased the whimpering, Piper noticed, and she rushed to his side now that the hybrid was occupied. He'd fallen unconscious, but fortunately didn't seem to have sustained any injuries to the head. It all indicated that he'd fainted.

The wolf growled dangerously, getting lower to the ground as it and the hybrid had a stare-down. The hybrid's hands glowed red, and Piper was surprised to find it mixing Detonations with Convulsions, unaware until that moment that it was even possible to do so. The wolf seemed as surprised, but dodged every single one of the attacks, its speed winning over raw power.

Piper didn't know how long she stood there watching that duel, wondering how come she didn't know better and couldn't do better herself. She wondered who this wolf was, and which magician could have sent such a powerful creature with such great timing. She couldn't spot anyone else lurking nearby, which wasn't saying much due to the circumstances.

Her bubble of thoughts was burst when suddenly the wolf jumped on the hybrid, its feral teeth finding the unprotected neck and snapping it in two. The wolf threw it in the water for good measure, not letting up until very slowly, as if reluctantly, it started disintegrating, becoming light particles that mixed with the scarcely visible stars under the moonlight. Up they went, a small parade of fireflies mingling with the dusk, their light snuffed out once they reached the clouds.

Piper exhaled a beat later, the rustle of the leaves on the trees the only other sound on the battlefield. The wolf paid her no mind. It shook its fur, spraying the grass with the blood dripping from its muzzle. Before Piper could find her voice, the wolf ran off, jumping over a bush and disappearing in the cluster of trees.

Piper threw yet another towel into the sink, letting out a frustrated growl as she looked at herself in the mirror. The stench of alcohol still reached her nostrils, no matter how hard she scrubbed her reddening skin. Her black dress was completely ruined. The fact that it wouldn't stain was hardly any consolation. How could she go back down looking like this?

It didn't matter, because she had already decided that she wouldn't. Piper had seen the looks. Pity she'd expected, as well as shock, but the satisfaction on some people's faces was what had sealed the deal. They wanted her to fail. Piper already knew this. She wasn't liked by everyone, and she didn't have the commanding aura of a leader. But to see it so openly displayed in a moment where she'd felt so exposed was what did it.

Her eyes started burning, ready for a spell of tears, but she refused to let them fall. She wouldn't ruin her makeup too.

There was an urgent knock on the door, but Piper hadn't even replied when the reason for her present consternation walked in carrying more towels and a bathrobe. Piper gave him a glare through the mirror, and he immediately halted.

"I brought some more towels, miss," he said. Now that Piper's wits were returning, she noticed that he had a foreign accent. "And I found this bathrobe in one of the guestrooms."

"That's Madam Prime Minister to you," she spat, spinning around. Her heels clicked on the ground and Piper became annoyed again. Had she not bent over to aggressively remove her shoes, she would have seen the amused expression on his face. "What's your name, boy?" she half-grunted from her bent position.

He hesitated for a moment, probably wondering if he would get in trouble. He would. He definitely would.

"Romeo, Madam Prime Minister."

Piper paused with her shoes in her hand. Then, she frowned, giving him an incredulous look. "If you're going to lie, at least choose a more reasonable name."

This time she saw the grin. And the impertinent shrug. "My nona was a fan of Shakespeare's work."

Piper gave him a good look this time around as she processed the information. The person standing in front of her wasn't a boy. In fact, he should be close to her in age. He had a bit of stubble dotting his jawline, running up to his curly black hair. She now noticed that his shirt had a massive stain in the middle, and she bet the rest of his outfit had got champagne spilled all over it as well. That dimmed her anger the tiniest bit.

"Your… nona," she tested the word in her mouth, feeling the foreignness on her tongue and knowing she was pronouncing it oddly, "gave you the name of a tragic, lovesick tosser who gave up everything for a thirteen year-old? I'm not sure I follow her reasoning… Are you a walking cautionary tale?"

His smile became wider. He had nice teeth. And a nice smile. "That's an interesting theory." He didn't sound honest. "But Shakespeare is always best discussed over tea or coffee."

Dear Lord, was he flirting with her? Piper's eyes went so wide she feared they'd bug out. She must have had one glass too many if the idea didn't immediately send her running in the opposite direction. Or made her do something more productive, like summoning Amare to throw him out.

Instead, she contented herself with grabbing the towels and bathrobe out of his hands and placing them on the marble counter. Apparently, he'd been waiting for her to speak, because eventually he cracked and said, "I'm sorry if I've upset you." He sounded honest this time around, but you never knew.

Piper chanced a glance, finding that he wasn't smiling anymore. "Thank you," she said.

Now that she had regained control of the situation, she needed to think of what to do. Try to check if Kitty was still home and if she could bring her clothes? Send a spirit to get them? She wasn't enamoured with the idea of having a spirit going through her drawers…

Piper had almost forgot she wasn't alone in the bathroom. But then: "I could try to save your dress if you'd remove it."

Piper gave him a sharp look, feeling her cheeks burn. Really, did he have to make it worse? "I'm not sure there's much to be done. It's…" She motioned vaguely to herself. "Well, you've definitely put it to rest."

Romeo—if that truly was his name—pursed his lips in thought. "Well, then maybe I could find you something else to wear."

Piper scoffed. "I'm not sure Devereaux's clothes would suit me. And I'm sure I don't want to find out that he had women's clothes lying around."

Romeo nodded with another amused grin. "Well, then I'll offer you my clothes. It's the least I can do."

And, much to Piper's horror, he promptly started removing his suit jacket and unbuttoning his shirt.

"Stop, stop, stop!" He did. Piper ran a hand over her face. "Oh my God, what is wrong with you? Is this your first job? Why did I have to get stuck with a first-timer?"

"You'll catch a cold if you stay in those clothes," he retorted, completely ignoring everything she'd said. "At least put on the robe."

"I will, once you stop gawking at me!" Piper exclaimed. "Just—find someone competent enough to deal with this situation." Then she changed her mind. "Better yet, find Mr Button and have him call my house. Ms Jones might be there."

Romeo nodded tersely and left Piper there, still coming down from her outrage. She couldn't help thinking that if Kitty had been there, the situation would be solved already.

When Piper got home on Tuesday night, still shaky from the encounter with the hybrid, and very much done with her day, she found a note scribbled quickly on a square piece of paper from Edward Norwood. There he told her North America had refused their treaty proposal and had made a few demands in return. Piper, beyond exhausted and confused, dragged herself to the hall's centre mahogany table, leaving a trail of wet feet on the carpet. Then she slid to the floor, putting her head in her hands as she mulled over the note.

As she went through a mental list of reasons for this response, the hybrid's eyes flashed before her again, angry and righteously vengeful. She started, looking around the empty hall. The clock ticked, the house moaned with the wind outside, the wood cracked as the temperature dropped a little bit more that evening. But there was no hybrid, no spirit, really, except the spirits she'd placed outside to guard the house.

"I'm going mad," she muttered to no one in particular, noticing how her voice sounded loud to her own ears, and then remembering Ezekiel's horrible, painful cry as she'd been stomped on by the hybrid.

Piper hid her head between her knees, using her arms as shields for her ears. But it didn't work; the cry was on loop in her mind. It was punishment, she was sure. She and Mandrake had been the ones responsible for the campaigns inciting people to go fight in North America. She had been part of a government that had forced spirits to fight their human wars, to fight against their own kind. She had read and heard stories of spirits which had been instructed to harm or kill their kind and vehemently refused to do so. These stories always seemed to end with everyone dying, and while most magicians told them with mocking and satisfaction, relying on the fact that their will would always overpower the spirit's, Piper's take had always been a little different.

Piper was a magician, but she wasn't blind. Spirits were intelligent beings in every sense of the word. Her master had always told her so. Through her master's teaching, Piper had learned to observe the spirits that way, and to fear them, always. While not exactly orthodox in his approach to teaching his pupil about spirits, Piper's master hadn't believed spirits to be equal to humans. After all, they hadn't evolved enough to be able to rid themselves of the pentacle's constraints.

Piper had believed this her whole life. So now that the spirits had indeed been cleverer, used human's corruption and greed against them to claim what had been denied to them for all this time, Piper didn't know what to believe anymore.

Piper's master had been unorthodox in another way as well, and that was in his treatment of Piper. He had been kind to her from the beginning, with the notable exception of Piper forgetting her birth name. Her master had later blamed himself for not being harder on Piper; maybe then she would have been a child prodigy like John Mandrake. Even right on his death bed, he had called on Piper to apologise for being lenient on her education. Piper had time and again reassured him that he'd done well, that Piper didn't aspire to grandness. Looking at herself now, rattled just by a confrontation with a hybrid, when Nathaniel had taken on multiple of them and gone on to almost sacrifice himself to stop Nouda, Piper felt increasingly small and pathetic.

Her master had been right, after all. Piper lacked the backbone needed to face up to a hybrid, much less to rule a country. She was an incompetent young adult who had no place being in such a high and privileged position. Even a commoner such as Edward Norwood was a better candidate. Tears prickling her eyes, Piper tried to fold in on herself further, hugging her knees close to her chest and hiding her grimacing face there.

That's how Kitty found her an hour later. She'd dropped whatever she was carrying and rushed to Piper's side, probably thinking something had gone horribly wrong. When Piper refused to tell her what was wrong for the third time, Kitty sat next to her and rested her head against one of the table's legs.

"I brought stew. We could reheat it," Kitty suggested a bit later, after Piper's sobs had been toned down to a few sniffles per minute.

Piper didn't say anything, feeling utterly humiliated and appalled at herself for letting Kitty witness another one of her weak moments. Kitty, who even Nathaniel had valued as an ally and who knew what else—maybe she'd even be Prime Minister one day! She had the drive and the unflinching determination Piper so lacked! What did it matter that she hadn't taken a seat in Council? They would hand her the position at Kitty's slightest show of interest. And now she was allowing Kitty to witness her pity party. How could she ever survive this?

"You know, whatever's going on, I'm sure you'll figure it out," Kitty said kindly. Piper could see some movement out of the corner of her eye and guessed Kitty must be playing with the carpet or her jumper, because that girl could never sit still for longer than a minute.

"You're a strong person. When everything was tumbling down, you showed up and did something about it. Everyone else was panicking, but not you. You acted straight away. Made a plan, told people what needed to be done. You even included commoners in the new Council, and while I know it's been difficult for you to accept us and adapt, you do it anyway. So, I'm sure that whatever's being thrown at you at the moment is going to get kicked in the butt soon enough. You'll see."

Kitty turned to give her a brilliant smile, which Piper only got to see because, throughout Kitty's little speech, she'd lifted her head from her knees out of sheer disbelief that Kitty could be saying those things about someone as unworthy of them as Piper was.

"You don't know what you're saying," a small, congested voice said. Piper cleared her throat as her embarrassment grew. "I'm not like what you're describing at all."

Kitty frowned at her. "Well, then you've been faking it really well." She giggled. When Piper didn't join her, Kitty added, "And here I came bearing the good news that I'll be attending that event you won't shut up about."

That caught Piper's interest. "You are? What about Edward Norwood? Don't you have a shift that night?"

"He understood." Kitty shrugged like it wasn't a big deal. "Besides, I can't let you have all the fun," she offered with another grin.

Piper wanted to cry again, but for very different reasons. She managed not to.

Kitty must have sensed this, because soon she had sprung to her feet and said, "Come on. I have very, very cheap wine and some delicious leftover stew. Only the finest things for the Prime Minister herself."

That got a small smile from Piper, which in turn plastered a bigger one on Kitty's mouth. The former offered her hand, and the latter took it.

"Madam Prime Minister?"

Piper started, snapping out of her daydreaming. She turned to the source of the voice, finding Romeo at the door holding a garment bag and looking as serious as he should have a half hour before. He rushed in without being invited, and Piper was ready to chastise him again, but he spoke before she could.

"I found you a dress. Melanie Norwood volunteered it," he answered her silent question. Piper really needed to work on her poker face. "You should change quickly. They're waiting for you downstairs." Piper was still so confused that Romeo had to grab one of her hands and put the bag in it for her to come out of it.

"Melanie Norwood, you said?" Piper asked as she opened the bag and pulled out the black dress. "Wasn't she wearing this tonight?"

"I believe so. She said it was an honour to have the Prime Minister wear it."

"But…" Piper was at a loss for a bit as she motioned vaguely to the dress. "What about her?"

The question seemed to genuinely surprise Romeo. "She had some clothes in her car." Then the serious expression returned. "Listen, you really should hurry. There's some commotion downstairs."

Piper didn't need to be told twice. "Right. Thank you."

Romeo hesitated for second before turning and leaving, closing the door on his way out. Piper made quick work of shrugging out of her robe and into the empire dress. Her heels were swiftly put back on, and her feet's protests ignored. She gave herself a last once over, running her fingers over her hair and removing the smudged parts of her makeup.

Then Piper left the bathroom and rushed downstairs, encountering agitated and whispering guests. The music had stopped and the servers were standing around, looking confused and slightly out of place. Romeo was nowhere in sight.

The stares came full force as Piper rejoined the crowd in search of someone who could tell her what was happening. She recognised the expectant looks, waiting for her to take action. For the first time in a month and a half, Piper felt like a leader, albeit a very lost one.

"Piper!" came Mr Button's voice from her left. The crowd opened a little for them as those nearby readily took notice of the situation. Piper marched in his direction, noticing that Mr Button was accompanied by a tall gentleman who could be Mr Brunetti.

"Mr Button, what's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost."

He was nodding vehemently as she spoke, which she recognised as his nervous habit of indicating he wanted to speak. "Might as well, might as well!" he babbled, rocking a little in his wheelchair.

"Well?" she urged.

Mr Button let out an agitated exhale. "It appears that St Thomas' Hospital was attacked once again."

Piper paled, unable to produce so much as a gasp to react to the revelation. She had only one thought in her head: Nathaniel.

And then, as the pieces clicked together: Kitty.

Many thanks to anjumstar for always handling my rambly emails with such patience and going through some sections of this chapter twice.