Many thanks to anjumstar for always being a champ. She found a mistake right in the first sentence this time. Yes, the first. I'd be lost without her.

Chapter Twenty-Two

you can keep all that you steal

Kitty

Predictably, Kitty and Nathaniel spent the entire weekend in the hospital, though she remembered little of it. There were snippets of Piper coming to visit, and of Sam fussing over Kitty. Before she knew it, they were being discharged. She slept through the rest of the week. She drank a buttload of tea. Most of all, she tried to forget.

Kitty was glad she hadn't forgot to dismiss Bartimaeus, however. He'd been so out of sorts that she doubted he would've been able to dismiss himself. So she'd done it for him on the way to the hospital.

One week later, she summoned him in Nathaniel's study, where there were pre-drawn pentacles, much to her relief. Bartimaeus materialised in the guise from Nathaniel's birthday party—messy curls, dark-skinned, chronically without a shirt—and looking the definition of hungover. His form was flickering a little, and his eyes were bleary. He blinked several times before checking her over, seemingly satisfied that she wasn't dying, and then tried to surreptitiously look around.

"He's downstairs with Piper waiting for us."

"Hm? These bookshelves look so dusty. Someone ought to take care of that."

Kitty wasn't about to touch that can of worms, much less open it. She was still tired and sore and not ready to unpack whatever the hell was going on between those two pains in her arse. She needed a break. A holiday. She should make good on her promise and visit Egypt before they toyed with death again.

'Downstairs' was the tastefully and scarcely decorated living room Nathaniel generally avoided and Bartimaeus favoured. 'Downstairs' was also silence. After the two of them ambled in, Bartimaeus gave Nathaniel an uncharacteristically warm glance. Nathaniel examined him much like Bartimaeus had examined Kitty upstairs, shoulders dropping slightly when he was done. Neither said anything, but Kitty could hear words in their silence. A headache to come.

After that, Piper tried to initiate a conversation about the wolf, then about the winter soirée. Kitty, Nathaniel, and Bartimaeus shared what they knew or remembered, but it didn't amount to much and their hearts weren't in it. They'd all been too preoccupied to properly look at the wolf, and even though it was likely that the Commoners' Alliance had made plans for the winter soirée, they didn't have any conclusive evidence and Piper didn't know who she could trust in the Council.

The mood remained tense and sombre despite Piper's efforts. The four of them were currently staring at the sword on the table like it held all the answers. Kitty herself had gone through her share of mental gymnastics, shifting from anger to guilt and back to anger.

She was still grieving her parents and coming to terms with the fact that their relationship would remain frozen on the day they'd kicked her out. There was no fixing it now. She hated that she wanted the possibility to be there. She hadn't even held a funeral. Should she have? Would that have helped her deal with all this? Was it even possible to do it now, given the circumstances?

Adamastor would never get a funeral. They would never return home.

Kitty blinked away the moisture in her eyes—not for the first time that week. With all of this and what had happened in Gladstone's tomb swirling around in her head, she didn't have room for more. Adding Adamastor to the equation made it hard to breathe. How was it possible that she'd let someone else die on her watch?

To her right, Nathaniel looked just as miserable. Knowing him, there would be a lot of self-hate talk going on at the moment. He'd finally created a whole new pentacle, and for what? The hybrid they'd actually wanted to help was dead and they had no way of knowing where the rest were. And the cherry atop the cake: a powerful elemental now knew his name and would be coming for them if Nathaniel didn't solve the mystery of what was keeping her in the cave in six months.

Piper cleared her throat. "Right. I'm sorry to pull you out of your thoughts again, but we have a… situation on our hands that we haven't discussed yet. We can't keep avoiding it and not properly talking about things has costs us. If we'd all sat down and talked sooner, we would've been better prepared and some things could have been avoided.

"At the moment, I have every single newspaper up my arse. My own council have been insufferable this week. Last week's events and the new measures for the returning soldiers have really put a crimp in our already minimal ability to work together. The only reasons I've been able to keep this sword under wraps are this news of the measures keeping the papers occupied, and the fact that the people who know about it are few. But that will change soon and we need a plan beforehand. I don't have to tell you how this will look if it leaks."

"Like we're planning something nefarious," Kitty said. "Typical."

"We don't know enough about the sword. That's a problem in and of itself. We can't make decisions or give anyone answers if we don't know anything," Nathaniel said in a small voice. Everything about him seemed small to Kitty that day. "It helped me smash through rock without me having to utter a single word, but that doesn't tell us much."

"Well, I don't know how smashing rocks will come in handy in the future or what we're even supposed to do with a sword. I've never fought with one, only smaller blades."

"Oh, you humans and your lack of creativity," Bartimaeus chimed from Nathaniel's other side. "I know what I would do with this mighty sword."

"Well?" Piper prompted, her expression half guarded, half eager.

"I would use it for cutting squash, naturally." When this was met with nothing but groans, Bartimaeus continued a bit more petulantly, "What? You lot aren't doing the cooking. Your meat cleaver is an insult to my talents. And we could use it for chopping wood as well. You have some nice fireplaces and London doesn't get any warmer in January, you know."

Piper sighed, clearly sorry she'd asked. "The sword could act as a deterrent. It is a powerful talisman. And I don't like how quiet Italy, France and the Czech Republic have been about everything."

"Yes, I'm sure they'll love to hear we have a stolen sword," Kitty countered. "Weren't you just saying you want to keep this under wraps?"

"I also said that won't last long!"

Bartimaeus leaned forward on his seat with his face squished between his hands to stare at the sword. "It looks European to me," he said. "Look at the hourglass shape of the hilt, and the materials—wood and gilt bronze, bless them. Don't know why they bothered if the blade is iron and not steel. Clearly meant for spirits and clearly manmade." He sighed deeply. "There go the legends."

"You do realise that 'European' doesn't narrow it down at all, right?" Kitty drawled.

"You all stole ideas from each other! Again, don't blame me for humanity's unoriginality!"

"Now we're just getting off-topic," Piper cut in. "We should ask someone who might know about it, like Pinn. He's the one who told me to look, so there's no point pretending he doesn't know what the fuss is all about. And he might be more willing to keep quiet if we let him in on the secret."

"What does Mr Button say?" Kitty asked.

Piper hesitated. "Well… he agreed that talking to Pinn would be a good start, but… He believes Mr Brunetti would have some more answers."

Kitty frowned. "Why? Is he even a magician?"

"Currently unclear. Italy has a different way of doing things. More magicians, less high-level training. Their government is mixed too, and the President is a commoner."

"Careful, your venom is dripping onto the carpet," Bartimaeus admonished, smirking.

Piper threw him an annoyed look but otherwise ignored him. "The point is that Mr Brunetti is apparently very knowledgeable in magical history and he comes from a family of famous blacksmiths."

"He what now?"

Piper nodded like she understood Kitty's disbelief.

"Well, talking to people. This shouldn't be too hard, eh, Nat?" Bartimaeus said, shoulder-checking Nathaniel.

Nathaniel flinched away from him and straightened on the sofa, glancing quickly around the room like he'd just noticed they were there. He did this sometimes. It usually wasn't for very long and he came back fast enough that she thought maybe that was just how he was. She hadn't known him long, after all. But the look on Bartimaeus's face told her otherwise.

"Right. I'll do that. I'll talk to them."

Bartimaeus pursed his lips but didn't say anything.

"I'll come see Pinn as well. I want to ask about the Amulet," Kitty said before the silence stretched into even more awkward territory.

"Okay, so that's settled." Piper sighed. "We'll reconvene later. Now I have a meeting with Ffoukes about the winter soirée…"

When Kitty and Nathaniel waded into Pinn's Accoutrements, red-faced and shivering from the cold, Pinn was waiting with the expression of a cat that had swallowed the canary. He ushered them in like they weren't dripping all over his floor, clapping twice to summon a small imp to take care of the floor and their coats. This was all done so fast, Kitty barely had time to react.

To her surprise, Nathaniel immediately transformed into his charming magician persona. It was like the past week hadn't happened at all. Like the past hour hadn't happened at all. Just putting on his usual mask. Kitty knew one thing or two about that, but Nathaniel made her feel like an amateur.

Not wanting to ruin their chances by saying something rude to Pinn, Kitty chose to look around the shop instead.

Pinn's Accoutrements was pristine, if a bit bare in terms of magical artefacts. Pinn had tried to make up for it with Italian suits and offerings of consultation and repair services, so now there was a cosy setup by the window, with a sofa, an armchair, and a coffee table. A pleasant smell of pinewood lingered in the air. Rustling sounds slipped through the door behind the counter, where Kitty assumed Pinn kept the rest of his stock as well as his spirit slaves.

"…and that is a beautiful suit you've got there, Pinn," Nathaniel was saying. They'd moved towards the exhibition window, where Pinn was ordering the mannequin to turn around for Nathaniel to examine the navy-blue suit.

"Ninety-eight percent wool. Perfect for the colder months—and if I may, perfect for a winter soirée," Pinn said, raising a cheeky eyebrow at Nathaniel. "Especially for the guest of honour himself."

Nathaniel smiled indulgently. "It is, isn't it?" The skin around his eyes was tight. He'd barely had a reaction to the news that the winter soirée would honour his efforts in the Spirit Uprisal. Which Kitty believed was a reaction in itself.

"I'll hold it for you." Pinn grinned. "Now, what brings you here?"

"Your expertise."

"Good thing I have consulting services now."

Pinn motioned for the sofa. Soon, the imp returned with tea and biscuits in a tasteful white and blue porcelain set. Kitty added a splash of milk to her tea and stirred. She was still being thoroughly ignored.

A fly landed on her saucer and Kitty did her best to ignore it. Of all the guises to choose from…

"I had a feeling you might be coming to see me. So, where is it?"

Nathaniel smiled again. Kitty had to hand it to him—Nathaniel had a lot of different business smiles. This time it was a sly smile, one she would've punched him for if it had been directed at her in the old days.

Without a word passing between them, Nathaniel glanced at the windows and Pinn tapped the floor with his cane once. Black blinds rolled down to cover the windows, plunging them into darkness before the lights blinked to life.

Satisfied, Nathaniel slipped his hand in the suit jacket's inner pocket and removed a brooch-sized sword. At his command, the sword returned to its original size.

Pinn eyed it hungrily. "May I?" he asked, sparing a glance at Nathaniel's face before returning it to the sword.

Nathaniel offered him the grip.

"Astounding…" Pinn whispered. "This is fine craftsmanship. And a fine talisman."

To Kitty it looked like nothing more than a rusty, battered sword, but she wasn't about to rain on anyone's parade and get their prospects for answers shut down.

"So far I haven't seen it do anything magical. Well, I suppose I was able to slice and blast a boulder, but I didn't utter a single word. It's all a bit puzzling, to be quite honest. So I wondered whether you had any idea about the Command Words. I've done some preliminary research, but I'm afraid I haven't found a single mention."

"Well," Pinn drawled, smiling triumphantly. "That is because there are none!"

Nathaniel scrunched up his nose. "That can't—Are you certain?"

"As certain as I can be without testing my theory. You're welcome to try a few standard Command Words, though I have to ask that you do it outside. I can only rebuild this shop so many times."

"I think I'd like to hear a bit more about your theory first."

"I'm glad you asked." Yeah, he was very glad. He was positively preening. "Since you've said yourself that the sword protected you from a physical threat, I have to believe it is more intuitive than other talismans… say, Gladstone's Staff."

"Are you saying that the sword acted on its own?"

"Well, if the legends are to be believed, you have to be worthy to pull it out. And pull it out you did."

Nathaniel hesitated. Kitty discreetly tapped his foot with hers. "Er… yes, I did." Pinn didn't need to know all the details, after all.

"Then the spirits do have some agency. In fact, I believe spirits stuck inside artefacts have more agency than we give them credit for, but that's a subject yet to be properly explored and a talk for another day."

Kitty tried to contain her disappointment. Still, this was useful information. She'd had the Amulet long enough to believe it at least heard her. And last week at the bridge… It was almost as if it'd wanted to break free and devour Asmodeus.

"Gladstone liked proper order, control. So, naturally, he'd craft a talisman so meticulously that the spirits inside could do nothing but act on the wielder's commands under threat of punishment. I'm sure he worked it into the clauses—disobedience incurs punishment. That is how most magical artefacts are made nowadays."

"But isn't that how artefacts have always been made?"

"Depends on the culture and its relationship with demons, for starters. But it also depends on what you were trying to accomplish. Why do you think we don't have more sword talismans?"

Nathaniel's eyes lit up. "Because it wouldn't make sense in combat to have to think of the Command Words while trying not to get stabbed. Not to mention that it would be a bit of a logistic nightmare, wouldn't it? Talismans are hard to craft, and magic has always been… elitist."

The fly buzzed like it wanted to add something. Kitty suspected it had to do with how much of the fighting was actually done by the spirits.

"Those were my thoughts as well. Only the worthy get to carry out this responsibility."

Kitty coughed to cover up her scoff. Pinn looked at her as if she was of no consequence to him. Nathaniel poured her more tea and gave her a warning glance. Kitty drank the tea, internally cursing up a storm.

"As I was saying, magic swords are uncommon. And if Merlin and the Knights worked on this sword, they would be thinking the same—wording things right so that the spirits had more freedom to act and choose their wielder, but never harm them."

Sure, let's call it freedom. Kitty pushed back a yawn and took to fiddling with the Amulet in her pocket, wanting them to be done with this already. Yes, the sword was interesting, and—if legends were true—quite powerful. But so far all it'd done was wreak havoc and hurt everyone in its path. They probably shouldn't even be showing this to Pinn—she certainly didn't trust him as far as she could throw him. It was only a matter of time before everyone found out about this sword and then what? Would they lock it up like the Staff and the Amulet? Much good that'd done. Would Nathaniel push back and make Piper's Council back down? He certainly had the power to get away with it, especially since the title of 'hero' was slapped on every piece of news related to him. But what about the rest of Europe? The country this sword had been stolen from?

No, there'd be blood on their doorstep soon and she prayed it wasn't theirs because she couldn't do this anymore. Kitty couldn't go on losing the people around her, much less—dare she say it?—this weird little family she'd found.

To make matters worse, the only proper way of defending them she had was probably broken. Her hold on the Amulet tightened and… was she imagining it…? Kitty could swear the gem had warmed slightly.

She didn't even think before butting into the conversation. "Mr Pinn, you were talking about how spirits have more agency than we think?"

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "That's right." His tone oozed condescension.

Kitty inhaled deeply. She had to pick her battles, and sometimes that involved not punching patronising middle-aged men in the face. "In your opinion, what is the precise moment when an artefact stops being an artefact?"

"When it's broken beyond repair, but that's something every magician knows." He spared a glance at Nathaniel, as if hoping to get some validation from him.

Kitty hummed in acknowledgement, not rising to the bait. She pulled the Amulet from her pocket. "So would you say that this isn't broken enough?"

Pinn's smile dropped. He couldn't believe he had two legendary artefacts in his shop, Kitty guessed. A greedy hand reached for it, but Kitty pulled it back.

"John, it is not wise—"

"Please answer her question, Sholto," Nathaniel said simply. "It is a fair one. And Kitty's been taking great care of it, never abusing its power, and protecting the city from further destruction." Was that an underlying threat in his voice? She would have to ask about it later.

Pinn opened and closed his mouth, producing an array of comical sounds Bartimaeus would no doubt later replicate. "I would need to examine the artefact, would I not?" he said quite petulantly.

Kitty bristled, but Nathaniel put a hand on her shoulder and tilted his head Pinn's way. Kitty handed over the Amulet, glaring daggers at him the entire time.

Pinn studied the Amulet through his monocle with great focus for several minutes. The old clock ticked off the minutes. Kitty and Nathaniel sat in uncomfortable silence, stealing anxious glances at each other every now and then. At some point, Bartimaeus finally left Kitty's saucer and fluttered over to the bookshelf behind Pinn.

"Remarkable," Pinn whispered at long last. He cleared his throat and returned to his usual tone. "It seems the spirit is still inside, even if it doesn't seem to be able to absorb anything, is that correct?"

"Yes," Kitty said.

"Well…" Pinn covered his mouth with a finger, considering the Amulet again. "I believe I can mend it, even if there are no guarantees it'll ever be the same. I would have to consult some colleagues… And the gem will remain cracked, of course. It is unclear if the demon inside will be able to operate at the same capacity."

"How about freeing it?"

Pinn blinked at her like she'd just said the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. "Whatever for? This is one of the greatest Amulets created in all of history! We went to great pains to unearth it. And now you come into my shop, having broken this relic, asking if it's possible to free the spirit when we should have begun fixing it the moment it broke? This is why magic isn't taught to commoners."

"Listen here, you—"

"Let's try to keep things civil," Nathaniel cut in, putting a hand on her shoulder to keep her from leaping over the table and smacking Pinn's condescension into the moon. "For now, we—I would be very grateful if you could find a way to repair it. And if you could be discreet about it."

Nathaniel's gaze bore into Pinn's, and Kitty saw the pretentious asshole wavering.

Nathaniel saw it too, so he sweetened the deal. "I would also love to try on some suits and shoes. The winter soirée approaches."

Piper

Piper left the meeting with the winter soirée committee feeling drained. So much so that instead of heading straight home to be the bearer of bad news, she walked into the first coffee shop she spotted and hauled herself onto a stool, dropping her coat and bag in a heap on another. Ezekiel sat at her feet in her typical husky guise, her tail wagging a mile a minute.

"Miss, pets aren't a—"

Piper shot him a look, and the barista's moustache quivered as he hastened to clamp his mouth shut and turn back to the coffee machine. Good. Some commoners knew their place. The world wasn't completely lost.

Oh, what was she thinking? Hadn't Kitty chastised her enough for these harmful magician ideas?

Piper sighed and frowned at the menu on the red-bricked wall in front of her. A few quiet conversations seeped through the instrumental music and the hissing from the milk steamer, but the coffee shop was mostly empty. Coffee beans clattered as the bartender poured them into the grinder. Someone ripped a page and proceeded to scribble away. The aroma of coffee, cinnamon and ginger wafted over to her. Piper breathed it in.

"A mochaccino, please," she said, figuring that sugar, chocolate and coffee were the perfect combination to soothe her unrest.

"Right away, ma'am."

Ezekiel interpreted this to mean that it was the right time to curl up around Piper's stool. For her part, Amare took the opportunity to noiselessly hop from Piper's shoulder and settle on the dark wooden counter facing the door, keeping her squirrel monkey guise invisible up to the third plane.

The barista set down a large cup in front of her. The sun and moon were drawn with the foam. Piper smiled slightly, feeling bad that she'd been so rude towards the poor man. But before she could thank him properly, the doorbell chimed and the barista instantly scowled. Not wanting to get into the middle of whatever it was, Piper emptied a sugar sachet into her mochaccino and stirred it absentmindedly.

Her thoughts returned to the meeting with the committee. They hadn't wanted to cancel or even reschedule, and that was about it. Ffoukes had even snapped at her. ("Bloody hell, think of how weak this'll make us look, Piper! Are you volunteering to be the one breaking the news, offend every dignitary we've invited? And what about the donations? How do you plan on making that kind of money otherwise? Unbelievable, spitting on our hard work like this.") Piper ground her teeth thinking of the nerve of that man. But the truth was that she couldn't provide a good enough argument because she refused to let tell anyone in the committee about the potential plans of the Commoners' Alliance. She didn't know who she could trust. There were commoners in that committee too. What if one of them was a member and had taken this opportunity to spy for the Alliance? It was too risky.

This wouldn't be a problem if she were Nathaniel. No, John Mandrake would waltz into that meeting looking busy and impressive as usual and inform them they had to reschedule or cancel, adding something vague about classified information. The committee would fall over themselves trying to please him. Piper, however… she didn't inspire the same reaction, nor did she have the same air of cool confidence and competence about her.

But Piper was trying in her own way. She really was. Her time in North America had taught her that she didn't need to have anyone like her so long as they respected her. But she also couldn't demand respect or expect to be respected from her title alone; she could only do her best and earn it. Especially now, after all the turmoil her people had endured. Of course they were upset. Of course they were wary.

Even Nathaniel had needed to prove himself more than once, something which she was guilty of ignoring whenever she was feeling sorry for herself. And her trip to North America had definitely earned her some points. Even those who had opposed the treaty now looked at her with begrudging respect.

Which didn't mean they agreed with everything she said—or rather anything she said. And the business at the bridge being kept under wraps wasn't helping her case—an 'unidentified attack' headline could only last so long. No to mention that this would only blow up in her face once the Council figured out what was happening. She needed to get ahead of the narrative, or at least distract them with something while she came up with a halfway decent way of introducing the topic of the sword…

"Come on, Will, you know they loved me," a familiar voice said, cutting through her thought bubble.

"Aren't we cocky today," drawled the barista, who apparently was named Will. He didn't look like a Will.

Piper turned to watch the exchange, finding Will with his huge arms crossed over his equally large chest, moustache twitching in annoyance as the young man with a guitar case on his back continued badgering him. A young man who looked very familiar indeed.

Piper blinked and nearly burst out laughing. Seriously, what were the odds?

When Will retreated behind the counter with a tray full of plates, coffee cups and cutlery, Romeo followed, not even blinking or breathing through his rambling as he helped Will load the dishwasher.

"…Tim and I can share, Will. He can get the golden spot on Fridays and open for me on Tuesdays, and I'll do the same for him in reverse. It's a brilliant plan."

Will ran a hand over his exasperated face. "You only got that slot last Friday because Tim was sick—"

"Which was a massive success, might I add."

"—so it wouldn't feel right to take it from him."

"You'd still pay him the same."

"He might not get the same amount of tips!"

This went on for a while, Romeo offering a counterargument for everything Will threw at him. Piper sipped her mochaccino and pretended to be interested in the many paintings and photographs hanging on the walls. And then, at long last…

"Fine. We'll give it a try next week—"

"Will, you're the absolute best—"

"—but if it doesn't work out—"

"—the most charming, talented—"

"—then it's back to business as usual—"

"—reliable, kindest boss ever."

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Absolutely. One week trial." Then Romeo grabbed Will's chin and planted a loud kiss on his cheek. Will groaned, scowling and batting Romeo away with a cloth as he cleaned his cheek on his shoulder.

"You won't regret this!"

"Already am." Will gave an exasperated sigh, throwing the cloth on top of the coffee machine. "Want a blueberry lemon muffin? They're cooling on the rack. Stop right there—" He put his hands up. "One kiss was enough, thanks."

"You're cute when you're grumpy. Your wife is a lucky woman."

Will grumbled some more as Romeo disappeared inside the kitchen. He came back later with two large muffins, and Piper's stomach growled at the delicious smell that wafted from the kitchen right before Romeo closed the door again.

"I thought I said one muffin."

"The other one is for a very special guest." And he winked at Piper before tossing a two-pound coin at Will.

"How did you—"

"You thought I hadn't spotted you?" Romeo said cheekily, sliding onto the free stool to her left and bending down to say hello and pat an eager Ezekiel on the head. Piper still couldn't believe how Ezekiel behaved around him. She was practically vibrating on the spot. If she was authorized to talk in public spaces, Piper knew there would be squealing. At least she could count on Amare to eye Romeo cautiously and give him a wide berth.

"Well, yes."

Romeo grinned like she'd said something amusing and used the stool's footrest to reach over the counter and pull out a small plate. Will shook his head but didn't say anything. Romeo placed the muffin on the plate and pushed it over to Piper, nearly ramming it into Amare. Piper put her hands over his to stop him, motioning at Amare. She blinked into existence on the first plane before disappearing again, leaving Romeo with his mouth hanging open.

"So. Cool."

Piper fought a grin and then noticed she still had her hands on his. She released him promptly and pointed at the muffin. "So, what do you have there?"

"Only the best muffin in London for the most interesting woman in London."

Will muttered something about hopeless artists, and then proceeded to ignore them as he vigorously cleaned the milk steamer.

Piper quirked an eyebrow at Romeo. "Really?"

Romeo tilted his head at her. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"It depends. Am I interesting because of my role? Because you don't know me at all."

"I know you're cute, especially when you get mad," he teased, peeling the wrapper around his muffin. Piper's ears were burning already. "And that you think Shakespeare is overrated. And that you have just flown over the ocean, risking your life for peace and the soldiers North America was keeping as prisoners. Besides, I'm a musician and a server. Being able to read people is basically part of the job description."

"I never said that Shakespeare was overrated," Piper countered, a little defensively, to her shame. "And how do you know about all that?"

"I read the papers, you know." He chuckled and took a bite from his muffin, groaning in delight. He tapped her stool with his foot. "Come on, give yours a try. Your life will forever be changed."

Piper scoffed. "If anything, Will should pay you for your marketing endeavours."

"Hm, you should tell him that."

"Absolutely not!" Will protested without turning around.

Piper smiled, amused despite herself, and took a bite from her blueberry lemon muffin. It was the most delicious muffin she had ever tasted in her life—not too sweet, with just the right hint of lemon, and so fluffy it practically melted in her mouth. Her façade must have dropped, because Romeo was beaming at her.

"I know, right?"

"Shut up."

Romeo only laughed more, completely unfazed by her tone. "Will, I got you a new costumer."

Will made a noncommittal sound, but she could see the proud smile on his lips.

"Here, let me pay you back."

"No, that's fine."

"Romeo, I can pay for one muffin."

"I know you can, but I offered. You'll find a way to make it up to me, I'm sure."

Piper narrowed her eyes at him. "That sounds ominous."

Romeo shook his head at her. "Must you always think the worst in people? I was just going to ask if you have plans for Saturday."

"New Year's Eve? I was planning on staying at home with my friends and drinking hot chocolate, maybe play a board game." And she was surprised at how great that sounded, at the warmth that immediately spread through her.

Romeo smiled at her like he understood what had just transpired inside her. "That sounds lovely. But if you find you have a little bit of free time, you could come here and watch me play. Tim's closing, so I'll be free later on in the night. And your friends are invited too, of course. I'd love to meet them."

Piper hadn't been expecting that. "Oh."

Romeo sighed dejectedly, dramatically. "Don't worry, I'll stop asking you to go out with me. You found the coffee shop I would take you to on your own, after all. I would need to try very hard to find somewhere to beat this."

Piper considered him and her racing heart, knowing very well she was playing with fire. "I didn't take you for a quitter."

Romeo studied her with a hopeful glimmer in his eyes. "I'm not."

Piper swallowed, her cheeks burning from the intensity in his gaze. "So, you're a musician."

Romeo grinned at her with child-like eagerness. "I am! Singer and guitarist, and I have been teaching myself the piano."

"Self-taught piano player? Impressive."

"No, not really. A lot of us struggling musicians learn by ourselves. And then get tangled in all sorts of posture problems and playing vices. So I should probably find a teacher soon. What about you? Do you play any instruments?"

Piper smiled easily at his keen interest. God, he kept stealing smiles from her and she didn't mind one bit. She didn't mind at all. "As a matter of fact, I do. All magicians must learn for specific summons. And I rather enjoyed the piano. I still played from time to time, before… well, you know."

Romeo's eyes positively sparkled. "You play? That's amazing! I bet you're really good."

"I played," Piper corrected him, unable to extinguish the smile from her face. "I'm only decent."

"I don't buy it. You should definitely walk over to that stage and wow us."

"Absolutely not. I'd die of embarrassment."

"The Prime Minister is shy?" Romeo fake gasped, comically widening his eyes.

Piper shushed him and pushed his shoulder for good measure, but she couldn't keep her laughter from bubbling out. "I'm trying to be discreet. You'll ruin my cover."

Romeo mimed zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the key with a loopy grin.

"You're incorrigible."

Romeo shrugged like he couldn't help it.

"Oh, so you're doing the silent thing now."

Romeo gestured to his mouth and then 'tried' to force his mouth open to no avail.

"Okay, okay. Now you're just being ridiculous."

Piper grabbed his hands in hers to stop him, noticing how his eyes immediately lit up when she did. She didn't let go this time, nor did she pull away when their knees brushed together.

"Is it working? Are you coming to my concert?" He tilted his head a little, eyes warm and playful. Piper's insides melted a little despite all the inner chastising she was doing.

"I thought you'd given up on trying to get me to go out with you."

"I thought you implied I shouldn't quit," Romeo said blandly, playing with her fingers and effectively trapping Piper's breath in her throat.

"And what if I did?" She let her gaze hold his properly for the first time.

"Well…" Romeo cleared his throat and looked away at the stage. Was he actually blushing? Had she actually managed that? "Maybe I'll see you Saturday, then?"

"Maybe."

Nathaniel

Kitty wouldn't speak to him when they returned home, and Nathaniel didn't have much to say. What was he supposed to do? Pinn was an expert and they could use the Amulet. He understood that Kitty wanted to free the spirit inside, but it needed to be done safely. When he'd broken Gladstone's Staff—

Nathaniel squeezed the sword's grip and took a deep breath.

The past two weeks had been a challenge. Whatever tenuous peace he'd managed to find in structure and routine had been crushed. Adamastor was dead. Asmodeus had broken the Amulet. Bartimaeus and Kitty had nearly died because of him. He'd nearly died again too…

Nimue knew his name.

There was no coming up for air anymore. There was lead in his bones and Nathaniel was slowly sinking and suffocating and so, so exhausted from it all. What was the point? What could he even do? Wasn't he supposed to be the one offering solutions, solving the problems?

With a surge of desperation, Nathaniel marched to his overgrown back garden. The brick fences were tall and overrun by ivy, the bushes were flowerless and in disarray, the trees needed a good trim. Perfect. No one would see him here and he needed to test out Pinn's theory. Nathaniel looked around, searching for an adequate target. He didn't want to burn down the trees or destroy the fence…

He considered the mossy water fountain. Did he dare…?

Nathaniel rolled his shoulders back and gave a few experimental swings with the sword, feeling completely and utterly ridiculous. Of all the talismans they could've found, it had to be a sword. What was he supposed to do with a sword? He wasn't a soldier. He wasn't about to rush into battle brandishing a sword and yelling bloody murder. And then what?

"This is ridiculous," he muttered to himself, giving the sword a distasteful scowl. "Sure, I'll just point it at the fountain and say 'Detonation'—"

The fountain burst apart, hurling debris everywhere.

Nathaniel yelped and dove to the ground, covering his head with his arms. But nothing hit him.

"There are… subtler ways of getting rid of a fountain, you know."

Nathaniel squinted up at Bartimaeus, only to notice the field of blue energy flickering between them. "Good reflexes."

"Why, thank you." Bartimaeus tilted his head in fake modesty. "But what for?"

Nathaniel got up and brushed off his trousers, now ruined by the humid grass. "Are you being purposefully obtuse? The Shield, of course."

Bartimaeus quirked an eyebrow at him. "I didn't do anything."

Nathaniel dropped the sword. The Shield dissipated.

He and Bartimaeus shared a look.

"Curiouser and curiouser…"

Look, I know, I know. Mochacchinos are sweet, why would you dunk all that sugar into one? Think of her blood sugar! Piper likes sweet things. This is canon. I don't make the rules.
And I'm not going to wish you all happy festivities yet! The next chapter is coming soon too. ;)