Beth felt her heart leap, and then had a moment of panic: was she ready? She had Isabelle’s papers with her, and the orbs, and everything else… she realised then that she didn’t know what she was escaping to. She’d be throwing herself completely on the mercy of the Alchemists’ Guild.

  But it was that or let Jack die.

  “Thank you,” she said to Sam, doing her best to hide the swirl of emotions, or at least only show what Sam expected her to be feeling. “Thank you so much.”

  “You can thank me by giving me the information you promised,” Sam replied.

  “I – now?” Beth hadn’t planned to do that. She’d assumed that she’d be gone before having to deliver on her promise.

  “Unless you want me to take him away again, yes,” he said sharply.

  Ah. Insurance against betrayal. Because if she had her five minutes first, there would be nothing stopping her from just refusing to provide her side of the bargain.

  And there would be nothing stopping him from taking Jack away either, if she told him. Except that it would cost him nothing not to do that, and she thought he was a decent person. That was the risk she’d have to take. Well, that and the risk that Isabelle very much did not want that information known by the government of Rasin.

  But if Isabelle didn’t want Beth using the only thing she had to bargain with, she should have saved Jack herself. “All right,” Beth said slowly. “She mentioned that – she was after something she called the starlit dream. I don’t know anything about what that means. Except that it’s a thing alchemists are supposed to know about.”

  That the Alchemists’ Guild was supposed to know about. That Beth was supposed to find out when she got there. Except she could hardly tell Sam that.

  “Starlit dream,” Sam repeated. “And you don’t have any idea what that means?”

  Beth shook her head.

  “Is it some – I don’t know, some impossibly rare ingredient?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Isabelle didn’t tell you anything more?”

  “No,” said Beth, a note of bitterness in her voice. “She didn’t.”

  Sam shrugged. “Well. It’s better than nothing, I suppose. I’ll see you in five minutes, I suppose.” He stepped out of the dining room and shut the door behind him.

  Beth looked at Jack properly for the first time. He hadn’t spoken a word since he arrived here. He seemed paler, more withdrawn, more afraid. She couldn’t blame him.

  Slowly, he took a step towards her. “Can I kiss you?” he asked.

  “I – what?” Not the most elegant response. Not at all. But she was so surprised she couldn’t muster anything else.

  “You don’t have to. But – I’ve been wanting to for a long time. And this is the last chance I’m going to get.”

  Of course. He didn’t know. “It isn’t,” said Beth, and reached into her pocket for an orb. She held it out in the palm of her hand.

  “Is that…”

  “It worked,” said Beth. “We can do it.” Was Sam listening at the door? She couldn’t say it too directly, just in case.

  Slowly, Jack reached out and took the orb from her. “Now?” he asked.

  “Now,” Beth agreed, and took the second orb from her pocket.

  “You’re a miracle,” he said. “You and Isabelle both. Thank you. We just… eat these?”

  “Put it in your mouth, at least. You don’t have to swallow.”

  “Got it,” Jack replied. “Well, then. I suppose my question stands.” He took a step closer to Beth.

  Her heart was pounding furiously, and she didn’t think it was because of the tension of the situation. Did she… was this… it wasn’t the time… but did she want it?

  Beth stepped towards him. “Yes,” she whispered.

  He smiled. It was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen. “Together, then?” he asked. He stepped forward again, so they were standing close enough to touch, and raised the orb to his mouth.

  “Together,” Beth agreed, mirroring him.

  At the same time, they opened their mouths and dropped the orbs in. Beth barely noticed the awful taste this time, because suddenly his hands were touching her face and then his lips were touching hers and –

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  It wasn’t pretty, or elegant. It was clumsy, awkward, real, perfect, the feeling of being that connected to another person, and she never wanted it to end, and she was wrapping her arms around him and –

  The world vanished. Not in the metaphorical sense that Beth had heard was supposed to happen. Literally. There was only a deep, inky darkness and the feeling of his lips on hers, his hands on her face, his back and neck beneath her hands. Nothing else existed.

  And then reality came crashing back in. She found herself falling to the ground that was suddenly there and solid and real, and released Jack to avoid dragging him down with her, and then her mouth opened and she was vomiting up an ugly mixture of soup and Vuillard substance.

  Finally the world stopped spinning and she was able to take a deep, shuddering breath. “This wasn’t because of the kiss,” she said.

  Jack’s laughter sounded almost unbearably sweet.

  Beth picked herself up and looked around. Jack was still standing, but looked distinctly queasy. They were on the pavement of a narrow street, such as it was: the road was barely wide enough for a single horse to ride down it, and the stone houses were packed tight together, tall enough they nearly blocked out the light. There wasn’t another person in sight. The sky was a clear pale blue with scarcely a cloud to be seen, and –

  And it was cold. It hadn’t been in the alchemy building, and so Beth wasn’t wearing warm clothes. Nor was Jack, but she suspected that he didn’t even have warm clothes to wear. She shivered and wiped her face, trying to rid it of stray chunks of vomit.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah. You?”

  Beth took a moment to consider it. They were alone in a strange city, with no-one who knew what came next, and woefully underdressed. And Beth desperately needed a sink to clean herself up. “Better than okay,” she said, realising she was smiling. Maybe it was just the exhilaration of their escape, or feeling fresh air and seeing the bright sunlight for the first time in too long. Or maybe… her gaze lingered on his lips.

  Maybe it was because of the kiss. Maybe she wanted to do it again.

  “Now what?” Jack asked.

  Beth shrugged and glanced to the nearest house. They’d landed only feet from its front door. Something in Isabelle’s papers had noted the number, she thought, eighty-three. And that was in fact the number that was painted in thin white lines on the black door.

  “I guess this is the place,” she said. It didn’t much look like an Alchemists’ Guild safehouse. But then, Beth supposed, that was rather the point of a safehouse. It wouldn’t be much use if it were obvious.

  “I guess you should knock, then,” said Jack.

  “Yeah,” said Beth. “I should.” She wasn’t sure why she hesitated. It wasn’t as if they had a whole array of alternative options to choose from. But something about the uncertainty, about blindly following Isabelle’s plan after what Isabelle had done, was scary.

  She stepped up onto the doorstep and took hold of the knocker, which was gold and in the shape of a star. Then paused and said a silent prayer before rapping the knocker sharply against the door.

  It took about a minute for the door to open. Behind it was an old woman, who Beth thought must have been tall before she had to hunch over a cane to walk. The way she dressed reminded Beth of her schoolteachers in a way she couldn’t quite work out.

  “If you’re collecting for charity, I don’t have the coin to spare,” she said abruptly. Her voice sounded younger than Beth had expected.

  “We’re not,” said Beth. “Good afternoon, ma’am. The weather is unusually fine, is it not?”

  A brief startled look flashed across the woman’s features before she composed herself, and Beth knew that she was in the right place even before her response. “It is so,” she replied. “But I fear it will not last. All goodness fades.”

  “Save that which we treasure and preserve,” Beth said, completing one of the passphrases Isabelle had provided her with. This one would identify her as a friend to the Alchemists’ Guild, who came seeking aid.

  “Indeed,” said the woman. “Well, I suppose you’d better come in.”

  “Thank you,” said Beth.

  Beth and Jack followed the woman to her parlour. It was a small room, and there were only two chairs. They had a silent dance of awkwardness about who would take the second one, which Jack resolved by standing to attention against the wall as if he were a butler, making it clear he had no intention of sitting down.

  “I’d offer you tea,” the woman said, “except then I’d have to make it, and I hate making tea.”

  “It’s okay,” said Beth. “We’re not here for tea. Might I ask your name?”

  “I go by Philippa. After the king of Rasin, you know her?”

  Beth shrugged. She vaguely remembered hearing about a Philippa involved in one of Rasin’s civil wars, but she’d never enjoyed history lessons.

  “Because of the hair. Before I got old, mine used to be a bright red, like hers. But that’s besides the point. Who, exactly, are you? You’re not with the Guild, yet you know a phrase of ours. Where did you get it?”

  “I’m Beth. This is Jack. Isabelle Froment sent us. She gave me that phrase.”

  The woman blinked. “Stars, my hearing must be going. I could have sworn you said Isabelle Froment just now.”

  “I did,” Beth said.

  “Isabelle Froment, the youngest Master of Alchemy the Guild has seen in centuries? Who disappeared without trace mere months after achieving her mastery?”

  “That… sounds about right. Yes.”

  “What happened to her? Where is she?”

  “I… don’t exactly know. But last I saw of her, about… three days ago? Yes – three days – she was alive and well and intending to return to the Guild within a week.”

  “I think,” Philippa said slowly, “you should tell me the full story. Starting from when you and Isabelle met.”

  Beth did so. Well, not really. It was more of a sketched summary, leaving out many details. In particular, she was vague about the exact alchemical method they’d used to escape. She didn’t out Sam as a Rasina spy, because why would she? And she didn’t mention the words starlit dream. She absolutely intended to find out what they meant, but now wasn’t the time. And she was supposed to be subtle about it.

  “I see,” said Philippa finally. “Well, I’m sure the President will be very keen to hear your story. And to see what’s inside that envelope Isabelle made. And fortunately, tomorrow is a Thursday.”

  “What… what does that have to do with anything?”

  “Thursdays,” Philippa explained, “are when the Guild Council meets. This seems a matter worth putting to the Council. It will certainly take all of us to decide upon a response.”

  “Ah,” Beth said. The Guild Council sounded intimidating. But if Isabelle had thought this the right move – stars, she was starting to hate how many of her justifications involved it was Isabelle’s idea. She scrambled to think of a more eloquent response. “That seems reasonable, yes. But what are we to do in the meantime?”

  “I suppose you don’t have a place to stay?”

  They shook their heads. They had their families, but both Beth and Jack knew that staying with family would be dangerous, and not just to themselves.

  “Then I shall have to clear out some spare rooms upstairs and see what clothes I can find in my cupboards. And – no disrespect, but you both look like you could use a good bath.”

  Beth certainly felt like she could use a good bath. “Thank you,” she said, knowing the words were inadequate.