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Ducos drove into the outskirts of Venice, under a brick archway and down a slope, to where three other vehicles sat in a courtyard, beneath a trellis dripping pink roses. A woman emerged to deal with the plates, while another hooked the car up to a charging station.

‘Domino has dispatched a boat,’ Ducos said. ‘Stay with her,’ she told Verca, who nodded. Maria looked worse than ever. ‘Flora, come with me.’

I followed her back into the sun, to a row of roofed jetties markedtaxi, which prodded into a broad waterway.

‘Stay alert,’ Ducos advised me, standing at the end of one. ‘Venice should be safe, but I’ll get you a dissimulator. Scion is offering a reward for your capture.’

‘I know. I thought you said I’d had my last dissimulator?’

‘I can make an exception. Try not to lose or damage this one,’ she said. ‘In the meantime, keep the sunglasses.’

Of all the places I had visited so far, it was most surreal to be in Venice – a city held in high regard in the syndicate, whose traders I had met before. A city I had never imagined I would see.

‘You’re quiet. Unusual for you,’ Ducos remarked. ‘Though I’m pleased to hear you’re not coughing any longer.’ She folded her arms. ‘It must be strange, to be out of Scion.’

‘How long did you work there?’

‘Fifteen years. I was older than you when I went in.’

‘Since we’re out of Scion, do I get to know your real name?’

‘Ducos will suffice.’

A motorboat approached us. Three people hopped off it, then lifted Maria from the car and into its cabin. Once we were all on board, the skipper pulled away from the jetty.

The Grand Canal was creamy green, lined with buildings. Most of the façades were painted in shades of pink and peach, withglimpses of crimson or harvest gold. Some looked timeworn, if not derelict: paint cracking off stone, windows boarded, shutters loose and rotten. Somehow they enhanced the charm.

I should have been afraid on that boat. This city was floating on my worst fear, but I wanted to make use of my time here. I didn’t want to break down every time I stepped outside. So I took measured breaths, and I searched for beauty. The way the water glittered where it broke, the sunlight dancing on the waves. As we moved along the Grand Canal, it became easier, as more wonders unfolded. Engoldened by the sun, Venice was as stunning as Prague.

Mooring posts rose from the canal, striped like candy canes. Our boat forged under bridges and past other vessels – rowboats, barges, a water ambulance – before drawing up by a wedding cake of a building, adorned with intricate rope-work. We stepped on to a shaded quay and into a courtyard with a floor covered in black and white tiles.

Ducos strode past an old well and across an alley, into the garden of the next building, where insects chirped in the trees. High above the alley, an enclosed bridge connected the buildings.

Inside, people crisscrossed a magnificent foyer. A grand staircase went up several floors, and sunlight poured through a mirrored glass ceiling.

This was the heart of Domino. If there was any whisper in the world of Arcturus, it would be here.

The people from the boat got a sweating Maria up the stairs. Verca went after them. I was about to follow when a bearded man emerged from an archway to the right, face set in determination. He wore a collared white shirt and beige trousers. Seeing me, he stopped.

Nine months had passed since our parting on the docks of Dover. Those months had changed him. Once a pale blond, his hair was now sandy brown, and his face and arms had tanned. If not for his dreamscape, I might have walked right past him in a crowd.

‘Nick,’ I whispered.

We both started to grin. A moment later, Nick Nygård ran to meet me and scooped me into a crushing embrace. I threw my arms around his neck.

‘I knew you’d be here,’ I said, my voice muffled. ‘I knew it.’

‘Paige.’ He grasped the back of my head. ‘I thought you were gone. I thought you died in Paris.’

I gripped him just as hard. Nick was here, and he was alive, and we were together, the way it was supposed to be. ‘You grew a beard,’ I said, with a weak laugh.

‘Domino made me.’

It was only now I held my best friend that I understood how much I had missed him. When he put me down, he took my face between his hands.

‘I can’t believe you’re alive,’ he said hoarsely. ‘I grieved you, Paige.’ He traced the scars on my cheek. ‘I need to help the others, but I’ll take you for dinner. Will you be all right?’

‘I’ll be fine.’