Read Chapter 22: A Royal Invitation

The rain had finally stopped, leaving Whitechapel slick and glistening under the weak dawn light. Elias stood at the window of the derelict safehouse, watching a pair of Bureau constables question a costermonger on the corner below. They had the look of men hunting a fox they weren't sure still existed—half-hearted, scanning the obvious places.

Behind him, Lila was at the workbench, her fingers tracing the edges of her memory plate, which lay beside Elias's prototype. She had been quiet since the restoration, but the glaze was gone from her eyes. She was present now, sharp-edged, watching everything.

"The prototype's resonance field is stable," she said, not looking up. "But the plate's compression format is older than the device's calibration matrix. If I try to run a full restoration without a harmonic dampener, I risk scrambling the remaining layers."

Elias turned from the window. "Then we need a harmonic dampener."

"We need Ashworth's equipment," Lila corrected. "And Ashworth is gone. The Bureau will have confiscated everything he couldn't carry."

The floorboards creaked as Elias crossed the room. He knelt beside her, looking at the delicate tracery of etched copper that held her lost years. Her hand hovered over it, trembling slightly. He placed his own hand over hers.

"We'll find a way," he said. "One problem at a time."

A knock at the door made them both freeze. Three sharp raps, a pause, then two more. Not Bureau. Not Ashworth's men.

Lila slid the plate and prototype into a hidden compartment beneath the floorboards while Elias moved to the door, sliding a knife from his sleeve. He pressed his eye to the spyhole.

Lady Cordelia stood outside, alone, dressed in a dove-grey travelling coat. Her dark hair was swept up beneath a modest hat. She looked like a governess, not the steel-minded patron of the Adder Circle who had once funded his mother's work.

Elias hesitated, then opened the door a crack.

"Mr. Thorne," Cordelia said, as if they were old acquaintances meeting by chance. "May I come in? I've brought tea."

Lila stepped up behind Elias, her expression wary. "Who is this?"

"A complication," Elias said. But he opened the door wider.

Cordelia swept in, taking in the crumbling plaster and water-stained ceiling with the faintly amused eye of someone who had never slept rough a day in her life. She set a leather satchel on the table and opened it, producing a silver tea service—already steaming, as if by some pocket enchantment.

"Your mother always preferred Lapsang," Cordelia said, pouring three cups. "A taste she acquired in the Adder Circle, I believe. You have her hands, Elias. And you have her troubles."

Lila folded her arms. "You have two minutes before I throw you out."

Cordelia smiled, unruffled. "I represent certain interests within the Bureau's research division. Officially, I am a procurement officer. Unofficially, I am someone who believes that talent should not be wasted on the gallows." She slid a folded document across the table toward Elias. "You are currently wanted for sabotage, theft of Bureau property, and assault on a government facility. Ashworth's facility, I should say—but the Bureau is not particular about whose lists they inherit."

Elias didn't touch the document. "And you can make that go away?"

"I can do better. I can give you a position. Junior engineer, research division, Whitehall. Pay is modest, but the laboratory budget is generous, and the access is—" She paused, letting the word hang. "Significant."

Lila laughed, a bitter sound. "He's not going to walk into the lion's den just because you wave a badge."

Cordelia's eyes flicked to Lila, assessing her. "You must be the sister. Margaret spoke of you often." She saw Lila's face tighten and pressed on. "Your mother was building something when she disappeared, Lila. The Composer wasn't meant to be a weapon. It was meant to be a scalpel—to excise trauma, not to erase minds wholesale. Ashworth perverted it. The Bureau has allowed the perversion because they fear what it could do in the wrong hands."

"Fear of misuse," Elias said slowly, "is not the same as wanting to prevent it."

Cordelia acknowledged this with a nod. "I want Ashworth stopped. He escaped with the perfected device, and he has gone to ground. The Bureau has lost track of him. I have not. But I can't move against him from outside—I need eyes and hands inside the machine."

"You want me to be your spy."

"I want you to be my engineer," Cordelia corrected. "That you choose to share certain observations with me is a matter of ethics, not espionage."

Lila stepped closer, her voice low and hard. "You were part of the Circle. You knew what they were doing to memories before they started doing it to me. Why should we trust you now?"

Cordelia met her gaze steadily. "Because I was the one who told your mother where to hide you, Lila. The Clock Enclave wasn't her idea—it was mine. I bought you sixteen years before Ashworth found you." She paused. "I am not a good woman. But I am a practical one. And it is not practical for the Bureau to have a device that can rewrite the mind of every citizen in London at the pull of a lever."

The silence stretched. Elias watched his sister's face go through a series of calculations, then settle into something cold and careful.

"You'll vouch for us," Lila said. "New identities, clean records."

"Both of you," Cordelia said. "I have papers prepared. A journeyman engineer of impeccable references—one Arthur Cole—and his apprentice, Miss Jane Whitfield." She glanced at Lila. "I assumed you would want to stay close to your brother."

Lila's jaw tightened, but she nodded.

Elias picked up the document. The seal at the bottom was genuine; he recognized the Bureau's embossed crest. Getting inside would give him access to the Registry of Personnel, where his mother's fate might be recorded. It would also put him within reach of whatever Ashworth had been building before his escape.

But it would also put him in a building full of people who had a device that could erase his mind without a trace.

"What's the catch?" he asked.

Cordelia's smile dimmed just slightly. "Every engineer in the research division is vetted by the Inquisitor of Technology. He has a way of reading people that I find... uncomfortable. He will probe you about your past, your loyalties, your dreams. You will need to convince him you are exactly what you appear to be."

"And if he sees through me?"

Cordelia setting down her teacup. It clinked against the saucer like a tiny church bell. "Then the Bureau will have a new test subject for the Composer, and I will have to find another engineer. There is always another engineer."

Lila moved to stand beside Elias. "Arthur Cole," she said, rolling the name around. "It's bland enough. I could be his assistant."

Elias looked at her. "You don't have to do this."

"I know." Lila's voice was quiet but resolute. "That's why I'm going to."

Cordelia produced two identity folders from the satchel, holding them out. Elias took them, feeling the weight of the paper, the promise of a new life he didn't trust.

"When do we start?" he asked.

"Tomorrow morning. Seven o'clock sharp." Cordelia rose, adjusting her gloves. "The workshop is on the third floor of the Whitehall Annex. Ask for the Chief Engineer's office. They'll show you to your bench."

She paused at the door, turning back with one final piece of information. "Your mother's records were moved from the central registry three weeks ago. Someone wanted them close at hand." A shadow crossed her expression. "I suspect Ashworth is consolidating his resources. He knows the Bureau is about to fall on him, and he's preparing a last gambit. Whatever it is, it's happening at the Clock Enclave."

The name hit Elias like a cold wave. The Clock Enclave—where Lila had been hidden for sixteen years. If Ashworth was going back there, it wasn't for the architecture.

Cordelia let herself out, leaving the tea to cool in the silence.

Lila stared at the closed door. "She's using us."

"Of course she is," Elias said. "But she's also pointing us at the one place we never thought to look." He tucked the identity papers into his coat and looked out the window. The Bureau constables had moved on.

His mother had hidden Lila there. If Ashworth was returning to the Enclave, it was because Margaret had left something behind—something worth killing for.

Elias reached into the floor compartment, retrieving Lila's memory plate. Whatever was happening at the Enclave, he had a feeling Lila's lost memories held the key.