Ao Shun gave the matter a few seconds of thoughtful consideration, then shook his head. ‘There is scarcely a link. But are you frequently subject to such attacks?’

Irene could feel the temperature in the room drop a couple of degrees. It wasn’t metaphorical. Ao Shun’s regard pressed against her, and she could almost feel a glowing sign above her head reading: LEADING MY NEPHEW ASTRAY. ‘Not without some good reason for them, your majesty.’

Ao Shun finally looked away from her. Irene could hear her own intake of breath, obtrusively loud in the silence of the room. ‘Very good,’ he said, though it wasn’t clear what he was commenting on. ‘You have raised points that I must investigate further.’ He leaned forward and slid open a drawer in his desk, removing a black silk pouch. With a tug to the cords at its neck, it came open, and a small sparkling disc on a bright chain fell into Ao Shun’s palm.

He stared at it. The tension in the room thickened further. From outside, a crawling mutter of thunder echoed dimly through the walls.

When Ao Shun raised his head again, his expression was clear. Anger. ‘When my nephew was committed into my care,’ he said, the thunder echoing in his voice now too, ‘this token was made with our mingled blood. By observing this token, I could be sure he was well and safe, wherever he might stray. But now you have given me reason to examine it, I find that he is beyond even my reach. This means he now inhabits a world so deep within the flow of chaos that I may not venture there myself. Such realms are poison to my kind. And, worse, appearing there would be considered an act of war by those who infest that part of reality - a curse upon their name! And even for my brother’s son, I cannot risk such a thing.’

Irene felt the blood drain from her cheeks. She’d imagined Kai being dragged off to some other world, but not deep into chaos. Even the Library monitored or blocked its links to such worlds. And if she didn’t know which world he was in, then she had no way to find him. ‘But your majesty, surely—’

Ao Shun rose to his feet. ‘This is not to be tolerated,’ he said. The pressure in the room was falling, as though they were miles beneath the sea. ‘This will not be tolerated.’

‘Your majesty.’ Irene forced herself to take a step forward, struggling against the weight on her shoulders and the buzzing in her ears. She felt light-headed, dizzy, uncertain, but knew she had to make her intentions clear. She went down on one knee. ‘I intend to find Kai and bring him back. This offence against him is an offence against me as well. I beg for your assistance. If there is any way in which you can help me, then I would be grateful.’

She remembered Coppelia’s warning: that Irene might become a sacrifice, in order to salvage the Library’s relationship with Kai’s kin, if they were blamed. But she also desperately wanted to save Kai.

Silence flooded the room. Irene forced herself to look up and meet Ao Shun’s eyes. And a thousand years of power and anger looked back at her.

‘Here.’ He walked towards her. She could see the item dangling from his hand now: it was a pendant of black jade on a silver chain as fine as thread. The decoration was a twisted intaglio carving of a dragon, done in the Chinese style and coiled around itself in multiple loops. The disc was only an inch or so across, but it had a presence all its own. ‘You may have contacts that I do not. I suggest that you use them. This token should help you to find my nephew, if you are both in the same world.’

He held the pendant before her. Guessing what he had in mind, Irene cupped her hands so that he could drop it into them. His skin did not touch hers, and the pendant fell into her hands, as cold as ice. ‘It may also be of some use to you as a sign of my favour, should there be need. But most of all, if you are in danger - or if my nephew is in danger - place a drop of your blood on this and cast it to the winds. Help will be sent.’

‘Thank you, your majesty,’ Irene said. She bowed her head again.

‘You have little time,’ Ao Shun said. He stepped back from her. ‘I can perceive he is weak and in distress. And know this, Irene.’ There was something uncomfortably specific in the way he said her name. ‘I acknowledge that any specific fault in guarding him may be shared between us. Myself, for not taking better care of him, and you, as his instructor. But should he perish, or worse, then the world where he was kidnapped will be a lesson for those who would challenge my kin. And my brothers and I will not delay in delivering that warning. Do you understand?’

There was thunder in his voice, and hurricanes, and tidal waves, and all the brutal fury of unleashed Nature. ‘Yes, your majesty,’ Irene murmured.

‘Then you may go.’ He seated himself on his throne again. ‘You may inform your superiors that we have no complaint about your behaviour. Pray give my compliments to those in authority above you.’

Irene rose to her feet and bowed again. ‘Thank you, your majesty. I am grateful for your concern in this matter. I will do my utmost.’ Urgency to get going buzzed in her, fighting the pressure of his authority.

The door whispered open and, as she walked towards it, the currents of the room pulled around her legs like water, dragging her out with them. It was easy just to follow them, to work on holding herself upright, to focus on putting one foot in front of another …

She stepped out into the light of the exterior office and the weight abruptly lifted from her shoulders, leaving her suddenly so light and unrestrained that she nearly stumbled. The ache of the brand across her shoulder-blades was gone too, though it had only seemed a minor irritation compared to the dragon king’s presence. And while great storm clouds were massing on the far side of the windows, darkening the room, there was still an entirely different quality of light here than in the depths of the throne room beyond. Irene had never been a great believer in the value of sunlight as a child (as in Put the book down and go out and play), but right now she thought her teachers had had a point.