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They entered a reception room, overly full of plush seats, where Wellesley’s visitors were to mill about before their audiences with the Lord. Aurienne and Mordaunt were the only callers this morning. Pipplewaithe bid them sit, knocked at a great oak door to signal their arrival to those inside, and left.

Aurienne and Mordaunt eyed each other in wary silence.

After some time, the door abutting the antechamber was opened, revealing a high-ceilinged hall. To Aurienne’s consternation—and Mordaunt’s, no doubt—the anti-Fyren measures were back in full swing within; there were spotlights aimed at every corner of the room, and even the floor was bathed with light. There were no shadows to be seen, much less walked.

Lord Wellesley and his men-at-arms sat around a table scattered with the remains of breakfast. Judging by the decor, Wellesley’s chief hobby was the murder of rare megafauna. The taxidermised heads ofbeasts jutted from the wall—a woolly rhinoceros, a cave hyena, a sabre-tooth, an auroch.

Below this cemetery sat Lord Wellesley himself—bald of crown, red of beard, shrewd of eye. His head, Aurienne noted generously, was shaped like a suppository.

Lord Wellesley exclaimed words of welcome, all while observing Aurienne and her Haelan garb with satisfaction, and turning a calculating eye towards Mordaunt. He seemed pleased with the results of his arithmetic. He gestured Aurienne forwards with a bow.

“Come in, come in, dear Haelan,” said Wellesley. “I had lost hope that one of your Order would come.”

“We are stretched thin,” said Aurienne. “But I’m pleased to be here now. How is your daughter?”

“Much better. May I offer you something? Tea? Have you eaten?”

“I’ve eaten, thank you,” said Aurienne. “I’m pleased she’s doing better. You’d listed some worrisome symptoms in your letter.”

“It appears to have mostly cleared up. I was too hasty, perhaps, in calling for you. But why don’t you sit down? Are you sure you won’t take anything?”

He was up to no good. Normally, Aurienne would have castigated him for wasting her time and left in a huff—but she, too, was up to no good.

She sat upon the very edge of a chair. “Shouldn’t I have a look at your daughter, since I came all the way here?”

“Of course. It would reassure me to have your expert opinion. But come, rest a moment.”

Brief small talk followed, led by Wellesley and responded to in curt, but polite, syllables by Aurienne. The men-at-arms were tense and still.

Mordaunt stood a few feet behind her—the rasp of metal on metal informed her of his shifts in stance—and Aurienne felt comforted. Yes: it was comforting that the Fyren was there.

Which was far and away the most bizarre thought that had ever entered her head.

Wellesley turned the conversation to the Haelan Order, leaned forwards, and seemed to, finally, come to the crux of the matter. “I heard, by the by, that your Order had received an anonymous gift of unusual proportions.”

“We did,” said Aurienne. She pressed her hands to her heart. “An act of astounding generosity; I can still hardly believe it.”

There was a loud sniff from Mordaunt.

“It was rather unconventional, wasn’t it?” said Wellesley.

“Most,” said Aurienne.

“Have we any idea who this generous donor was?”

This line of enquiry was hilarious, given that the generous donor was right behind Aurienne.

“Not a clue. It was an anonymous donation, as you heard.” Aurienne tilted her head, and grew coquettish, and asked, “Was it you?”

Wellesley shuffled closer to Aurienne. He gave her a warm smile, but there was no concordance of sentiment between it and his eyes, which remained cold. “Do you think it could be?”

“Maybe,” said Aurienne, returning the smile. “Have I the honour of meeting our incredible benefactor?”

They smiled at each other moronically, until Wellesley’s grin disappeared, and he said, “In all seriousness, Haelan—no. It wasn’t me. But I’d like to contact the donor, actually, to work out a donation of my own. Perhaps we could make a joint contribution to your Order.”

“Oh, that is so kind of you,” said Aurienne. “The Heads will be thrilled.”

Wellesley came closer. “Surely someone in your Order knows the donor’s identity, to assist me in this pursuit?”