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And what he was seeing was Cade.

28

IRA DEORUM

Cadoc Fitzours, the other dreamwalker. He looked much the same as he had in Paris, except that he was dressed almost exactly like a Reph, down to his doublet and black leather gloves. His chin seemed a little sharper, his cheeks hollow, his lips almost as dark as mine.

They hadn’t been like that in Paris. He must be taxing himself to the limit for Nashira.

A group of people had gathered in an ornate room, including Sala and Jaxon. This had to be the Palazzo del Quirinale. Two days had passed while I lay in the jailhouse, and Cade had arrived, ready to exact his vengeance. Sala had decided not to take me to the Quirinale.

Cade was flanked by two Rephs. One was unfamiliar, though clearly a Sargas, from his pallor and thick golden hair. The other, I recognised with a jolt as Kornephoros Sheratan.

‘President Sala. I am Castor Sargas, blood-heir of the Rephaim,’ the former said. ‘I come on behalf of the Suzerain.’

Castor wore a livery collar set with amber, like the ones Nashira and Gomeisa had used to show their authority in Oxford. He was as daunting as his predecessor, Kraz Sargas. His face had been carved as if by a sculptor, his long hair drawn back from his cheekbones.

This Reph had once ruled the Residence of Balliol. From what Arcturus had told me, he had got his kicks out of tormenting the amaurotics.

‘This is Kornephoros,’ Castor went on. ‘He is Warden of the Sheratan and blood-consort of the Rephaim, superseding the flesh-traitor, Arcturus Mesarthim.’

So Nashira had replaced both Arcturus and Kraz, the two Rephs I had taken from her.

Kornephoros smiled, something I fervently wished Rephs would never do. Their faces weren’t made for that particular expression.

‘Castor Sargas,’ Sala said. ‘What is it you want from me?’

‘I think you know, President Sala. Why have you broken our treaty by allowing humans to return to Capri and Ischia?’

Nick was standing close to her. A few members of the Council of Kassandra had gathered on either side, along with some amaurotics, who I assumed were her ministers.

‘Because the Prime Minister and I have no intention of letting you take Italy,’ Sala said. ‘A treaty I signed in fear of my own life, and that of my colleagues, is meaningless. You succeeded in claiming Norway, but Operation Ventriloquist goes no farther on these shores.’

‘I suspected you might say that. After all, you are a unique case, President Sala. A clairvoyant at the head of a country,’ Castor said, his eyes ablaze. ‘Do you not fear our dreamwalker?’

‘President Sala has a binder at her side.’ Jaxon stepped from the ranks. ‘As a member of the Sargas family, you are no doubt familiar with the art, Rephaite.’

‘Indeed.’ Castor considered him. ‘The Suzerain taught you personally, as I understand it, Jaxon Hall. How disappointing, to see you on the losing side.’

‘Come on, Jaxon.’ Cade smiled. ‘Do you really think a boundling is any match for me?’

He used his Breton accent now, not having any reason to hide it.

‘Most boundlings would be fazed,’ Jaxon conceded, ‘but these ones are mine. And they have faced a dreamwalker before.’

The vision wavered. It must be taking Nick an extraordinary amount of strength to project it to me.

‘Paige,’ Cade said. ‘You know where she is, then?’

‘I do hope so,’ Kornephoros said, his deep voice startling the humans. ‘I owe that oathbreaker a death.’

Shit.

‘Paige is already dead,’ Nick said. ‘She died in the airstrike on Paris.’

Cade gave him a look of intense scrutiny. For a sickening moment, I thought he could see me. Nick must be wearing his dissimulator, or the Rephs would know his face from the screens in Scion.

‘No,’ Cade said. ‘You wouldn’t be trying this unless you had backup. And I dreamed of her.’