To her left, jutting out of the glassy surface of the crawling river, was a rock formation that looked like something out of a dark kingdom, its jagged height like the remnant of a small watchtower.

That same dark stone had been used to construct the breathtaking bridge that rose high over the water in an almost perfect arc. Its spine looked as thin as a finger from her vantage point. The way it was settled into the earth, becoming part of the mass of life around it, made her wonder if it wasn’t just old, but ancient.

But what struck her most, what held her there in disbelief of its beauty, as the Thorns milled around, was the way the late-afternoon light reflected the image of the bridge into the water below.

“A perfect circle,” Henry said from beside her. “Two halves meeting, for a time, as a whole.”

Etta’s brows furrowed at that show of romanticism, but Henry had already directed his attention to a pinched-faced Winifred, who was working her way through the mass of assembled guards. She’d changed into a fur coat, and a hat that looked like some sort of enormous, exotic flower was about to eat her face.

“Sir, all of the preparations have been made,” she said. “He’s expecting you for dinner this evening.”

“He?” Etta asked, though she knew it was useless.

Winifred’s eyes flicked over at Etta, at Henry’s coat still wrapped around her shoulders. “I’ve procured a gown for her, if you’d like her to dine with you.”

“Excellent,” Henry said. “We’ll stop by the others’ hotel so that we can both change. I’m assuming you found an appropriate suit for me as well?”

“Of course,” Winifred said. “It was the very first thing we did after we confirmed the alterations had taken hold.”

“Any word from Kadir?”

The missing Thorn. Etta’s focus sharpened on the woman’s face, searching.

But Winifred shook her head, clearly troubled. “It’s likely he’s safe in the palace, and waiting for us to arrive.”

“Why, Aunt, that almost sounded optimistic,” Henry said with a knowing look to Etta.

“Otherwise,” the woman finished, “he’s dead and we’ll only be in time to collect his remains.”

“There it is,” Jenkins murmured nearby. “Can always count on her to douse the light of hope.”

Henry held out his arm to Etta, and once she’d taken it, they made their way toward the rough path that edged out from below the overgrowth of trees and bushes. Two of the guards jumped into place in front of him, leading the way. Etta found her feet naturally sinking into the footprints that already marked up the trail.

While not all of the Thorns had left San Francisco, an even dozen had gone ahead to make preparations for Henry’s arrival. Julian, to her surprise, had been escorted out with them. She’d caught sight of him being half dragged onto the street, trying to hide the decanter of brandy inside of his coat.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

He glanced at her. “I hope you don’t mind, but it’s a surprise—oh, no, I promise, it’s a welcome one. I simply want to see…I’d like to introduce you to a friend of mine, and an important place to my side of the family.”

A parent who shared with their child. What a novel concept. “As long as it doesn’t involve tigers. Or cobras.”

“Pardon?” he said, startled.

Winifred swept into the conversation with her usual awareness and tact. “Far be it from me to tell you what to do, Henry, but I worry—the girl has hardly been trained, and the stakes of this dinner will be so high—let me at least work with her for a few days.”

“There are no stakes. It is simply dinner with a friend,” Henry said. “I need you to take charge of searching the various rooms for Kadir and the astrolabe.”

The world darkened around them as the trees closed ranks over their heads and the sun continued its downward slide.

“What happens if he and the astrolabe aren’t here?” Etta asked, her boots squelching loudly through the mud. “What then?”

“I haven’t gotten past the prayer that he is here,” Henry said. “I’m curious, though, what would you do in my position?”

“Do you care what I think?” Etta asked.

He seemed confused by the question. “Would I have asked otherwise? I want to know your thoughts.”

Etta wanted to bask for a moment in the small, trembling warmth of that idea, but quickly stomped it down.

“The thoughts of a seventeen-year-old child,” Winifred said. “Really, Henry.”

But he wanted to know, and was plainly waiting. It made her feel…

Trusted.

When in her life had her mother ever stopped to ask her about her thoughts or feelings on something, without having already made the decision herself?

Even Nicholas. Even Nicholas had tried to take advantage of her trust, however halfhearted the attempt had been. He was overburdened with a guilty conscience, and was honorable in a way only the heroes of history and fiction seemed to be.

“Immediately start sniffing around any Ironwoods you can find,” Etta said. “Set off more alterations—as many as you can manage at once.”

Henry inclined his head toward her, considering this. “Ah. To lure Cyrus out with the astrolabe to fix them?”

Etta nodded. “Even if he didn’t bring it out into the open, you’d still split the Ironwoods’ attention. Meaning more chances to follow one of the Ironwoods back to wherever he’s taken up and find the astrolabe there.”