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Finn had never been religious. So when I approached his grave with the others, I had thrown earth on the empty box, summoned all my silent rage and prayed to Ireland itself.

I called upon the aos sí, the mountain hags and Crom Cruach; I bargained with the Fomhóraigh. I told the hungry grass to grow beneath the conquerors’ boots, so they would eat our crops and drink our wine, but never once be full. I implored the mná sí to scream their deaths into their ears. I willed them grey and worm-eaten, their bones stripped for the dúlachán to spoke the wheels of his grim coach. I beseeched my island to defend itself.

To no avail.

I would not wear black to mourn Arcturus. Funerals had never been a part of voyant culture in London. We knew the spirit had departed; the body was just leftovers. Only syndicate rulers had their remains collected and preserved, so their bones could be used for readings.

It was different for Arcturus, whose body was now a sealed tomb for his spirit. It would never decay.

The Ranthen had put him in the wine cellar, which seemed appropriate. They could defend this room if the Buzzers came, long enough to decapitate him. It would stop him from coming back as a monster.

Sequestration is not the same as mortal death. My footsteps echoed on the steps.Our bodies do not rot, and our dreamscapes remain intact,caging our spirits. As far as I know, there is no way to reverse this.

Terebell stood guard outside. When she saw me, her stance changed, her chin lifting.

‘You are awake.’

She had done away with her coat, showing the blade at her side.

‘I hadn’t realised you had one of those,’ I said dully. ‘Arcturus found one in Versailles.’

‘All seven Wardens bore one under the Mothallath,’ she said. ‘Nashira confiscated mine when she removed my title, but Adhara Sarin offered hers in tribute when she joined the Ranthen.’

Adhara had done that only after learning that I had deactivated Senshield, proving that I was a competent leader. Terebell would not have that blade if not for me.

I had laid every paving stone to his end.

‘I must sequester Arcturus before cold spots begin to form,’ Terebell said. ‘This will not be another Capri.’

‘Oxford and Versailles,’ I said. ‘Did they attract the Buzzers because latent Rephs were kept there?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘In Oxford, they were stored in a Norman crypt to the west of Magdalen, beneath the former St Edmund Hall. The Sargas laid their fallen there. That is why the Emim were attracted to that city, first and foremost. It is what sustained the myth of Oxford.’

My nod was small and wooden. The thought must have been forming unnoticed for a while, but seeing that island, turned into a death trap by one Reph, had finally given it shape.

‘What will you do with Arcturus?’

‘He is in a state we call latency, which he clearly explained to you,’ Terebell said. ‘There is no way to wake him, unless he were to turn Emite. To prevent that, I must sequester him. I will hide the head – and, by extension, his trapped spirit – in the Netherworld. As for the body, we must bury it deep, so the Sargas can never mistreat it again.’

Each word made me want to shrivel into nothing. For so long, I had thought of Arcturus as too strong to defeat. I had never imagined losing him to anything but my own death.

‘I’d like the night,’ I said. ‘To say goodbye.’

‘Arcturus may not be able to hear you.’

‘I don’t mind.’

Terebell considered me.

‘I will give you until dawn,’ she said. ‘And then Arcturus will be lost to us, like Alsafi. Two of our best, for the sake of you. Let us hope that you will one day be deserving of that sacrifice, dreamwalker. That you might one day be enough to balance the weight of their loss.’

She strode up the steps. After a minute, I walked into the room beyond, my eyes stinging.

You had better be worth all of this, Underqueen.

Scarlett Burnish had said the same thing, in as many words. Now she was dead, too.

And I still didn’t know if I was worth it.