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No. She was older and wiser now. Besides, she had loved Amagris. She could not love Mordaunt.

“I would betake myself to the scaffold before letting that happen again,” said Aurienne.

Cath, serious now, reached across the table and squeezed herforearm. Aurienne stared at the wall and learned about intracerebral haemorrhages.

The cluster of stirring rods at the pub’s door jingled, heralding the entrance of Élodie. She floated towards Aurienne and Cath, nymphlike, with her Haelan whites drifting behind her in ways Aurienne’s never did.

Constitutionally incapable of walking anywhere without picking flowers, Élodie approached with a roadside bouquet of alliums, which she examined while muttering about their resemblance to spike glycoproteins.

Aurienne, who had been wilting over her wine as pathetically as Quincey over his marmalade, sat up and said, “New dress. Lovely.”

“I put it on just to fascinate you,” said Élodie.

“It’s working.”

Élodie spun. Aurienne kissed fingertips her way. Cath said, “Stop flirting with my fiancée.”

“Mightn’t I join your marriage?” asked Aurienne.

Élodie drifted into her chair. “I thought you’d sworn off love?”

“Right. I did.”

Élodie slipped an allium behind Aurienne’s ear. “Stupid idea, but I suppose even you must have those on occasion.”

Cath’s glance towards Aurienne suggested, for example, secretly healing a Mysterious Stabbed Man.

Aurienne, who had come for a consult, and not repeated deep cuts to her psyche, said, “I’ve got to go.”

“Aren’t you meant to be in London?” asked Élodie. “Or were you called in for the novitiate assessment?”

“I’m meant to be in London, and I’m going back there now. I’m not on this assessment rotation.”

“You’ll miss all the adorable baby deofols. Last time there was a fawn. But wait—sit. You mustn’t leave just yet. You’ve got to celebrate with me.”

Aurienne sat. Élodie waved Grette down for an additional glass, which came in the form of a U-shaped absorption tube.

Aurienne poured wine into the tube. “What are we celebrating?”

“We’ve got a vaccine candidate,” said Élodie.

“What?” gasped Aurienne.

“Incredible,” said Cath.

They each planted a kiss upon Élodie’s dimpled cheeks. The flask, the wonky beaker, and the absorption tube came together in a cheerful clatter, with cries of “Bravo!” and “Cheers!”

“Official announcements to follow,” said Élodie. “But I wanted to give youla primeur de la nouvelle—the what’s-it-called—the scoop.”

“The nightmare is drawing to a close,” said Aurienne.

Cath topped up their glasses and, having run out of room in hers, drained the bottle into her mouth.

Élodie caught sight of Aurienne’s diagram. “Who’s been drawing penises?”

“Aurienne was explaining her plans for the evening,” said Cath.

“Félicitations,”said Élodie. “Is he as well-endowed in good humour as he is in girth?”