Irene relaxed her death grip on the cable and slid herself forward as fast as she could, letting the guide rope glide through her fingers as she forced herself along the bridge. Then she was tumbling over the railing and onto the roof in an ungainly sprawl.

But she wasn’t safe. Not yet. Not so long as she was standing here in plain view. She stumbled through the crowd, trying to find cover. The yawning flight of stairs that led inside beckoned her, and she ran for it.

Sterrington joined her moments later, wiping smears of ash from her face, and they drew aside from the people streaming downstairs. ‘You’ve brought trouble to my door,’ she said sourly.

‘I thought you’d decided you were the target.’

‘Maybe. But nothing happened until you arrived.’

Irene worked on staying calm. She couldn’t afford to alienate her fellow treaty representative. Her day was bad enough already. ‘I arrived less than an hour ago. Nobody could have predicted my movements to set this up.’ She paused, thinking. ‘How long have workmen been painting downstairs?’

‘Several days. Why do you ask – oh.’ Sterrington frowned. ‘I see. It would be the perfect cover for arranging the arson, wouldn’t it? Flammable material, access to take the lifts out of service . . . I’ll have someone look into it.’

Irene thought privately that it was a little late for that. She decided not to mention the bullet, either – it would only encourage Sterrington to blame her again. Instead she said, ‘There was a murder attempt on you a couple of weeks ago, so after today, you’re definitely on the hit list. It seems they are aiming for all the treaty representatives.’ Though that left the question of why Vale had been targeted. Because he was an associate of Irene’s? Or simply as a gesture of revenge from Lord Guantes? After all, he’d helped rescue Kai from the Guantes’ kidnap plot. ‘Assuming someone else here wasn’t the target?’ She glanced at the flames roaring from the neighbouring building. They really needed to move.

‘I doubt it, but that’s what I’ll be telling the police,’ Sterrington said briskly. ‘I can do without the attention. Listen, Irene, I have to assume my apartment’s been compromised, and you should presume the same for your lodgings. I’ll take a room at Claridge’s. Leave any messages for me there, or with my solicitor Sallers at the Middle Temple. We can use him as a dead drop – I’ve kept my link with him secret. Let me know when you have more on that laptop.’

For once, Irene was grateful the Fae was a professional schemer. She could also spot an opportunity. ‘And on your side, can you check up on Lady Guantes – and see if any Guantes enemies have been murdered recently? I’m assuming the Cardinal will know.’

‘He’s extremely busy,’ Sterrington hedged. ‘You don’t want the details.’

‘Much as I sympathize with keeping a mess from one’s boss until it’s sorted out, he might be a target as well. Do you want to be the one who didn’t warn him?’

‘Now you’re exaggerating. Nobody on their level has even the slightest chance of assassinating the Cardinal.’

The roof was nearly empty now and firemen were escorting stragglers downstairs. They needed to hurry if they wanted to lose themselves in the crowd. ‘Look,’ Irene said, ‘whether we’re facing Lord Guantes, Lady Guantes, or both – and whether they want personal revenge or to trigger another war – they’ve tried to assassinate all three peace treaty representatives. The Cardinal needs to know.’

‘Oh, very well. I suppose some sort of memorandum might be in order. But I don’t expect this plot to stay hidden for much longer. This London isn’t the Guantes’ home ground. With your Vale and the police after her, him or them, they’ll have to retreat – and we’ll be ready next time.’

Behind Sterrington, the whole building was aflame now. It was a warning that it could have been so much worse. Sterrington didn’t seem to realize just how close they’d both come to death.

‘All right,’ Irene said, moving towards the stairs. ‘I’ll be in touch. Just . . . be careful. We’ve been lucky so far.’

They needed to resolve this – or their enemies would destroy even more of London in their desire for vengeance. When it came to Fae feuds, human lives were incidental damage.

The air was thick with smoke as Irene emerged from the building that had been their salvation. The street was packed so full of observers, bystanders, coffee vendors and bookmakers that she had to shove her way through the crowd. Fire engines were spraying thick gouts of water into the lower parts of the blazing building, but it didn’t seem to be doing much good. Though Irene admitted she knew more about fires from the running away from them perspective than putting them out. At any rate, it wasn’t her problem any more.

‘Hold it!’ Several people stopped in their tracks, Irene included, and there was a general turning of heads to see Inspector Singh approaching, trailed by policemen. His gaze fixed on Irene. ‘Mrs Parker? I’d like a word with you.’

That was interesting – and worrying. Inspector Singh knew perfectly well that Irene’s identity in this world was Miss Winters and not Mrs Parker. He also knew more about the Library, the dragons and Fae than Irene would have liked. If he was trying to have a private word, without identifying her publicly as Irene Winters, then Irene Winters was in trouble.

Irene let herself be escorted into a waiting police van. One of the policemen – a sturdy fellow with a moustache – climbed in, along with Inspector Singh. The harsh electric light inside the closed cab brought out every smut and smear on Irene’s clothing. In contrast, Inspector Singh, sitting on the opposite bench with his attendant policeman, could have attended a public parade. From his polished boots to his turban and green sash – a token of his secondment from the Imperial Police in India – he looked pristine.

At that moment, Irene didn’t even care why he’d brought her here. The fire was too fresh a terror. Even though she’d managed to control herself while they were escaping, now that she was out of danger her subconscious was sending messages. Apparently it would like to lie down and gibber for a few hours. ‘You wanted to speak with me, inspector?’ she asked curtly.

‘Actually, Miss Winters, I wanted to thank you,’ the inspector said. ‘I don’t have all the details yet, but I understand you managed to organize the evacuation. Nice work.’

It made a pleasant change to have someone actually congratulating her for something. ‘I’m glad I could help,’ she answered. ‘What I’m more worried about is why it happened.’

‘Always to the point. Under normal circumstances I’d call the fire a terrible misfortune, but as things stand we were lucky that nothing worse happened.’

He glanced sideways to the other policeman, who somehow relaxed. His shoulders loosened and a new light came into in his eyes. ‘Forgive me for not removing this disguise, Winters.’ It was Vale’s voice, unmistakable. ‘We all need to be careful about showing ourselves in public right now. I have very little doubt that Sterrington – and possibly you as well – were meant to die in that fire. Though I have yet to determine whether your presence triggered the attack, or whether your involvement was accidental.’