“Well, what do you think?” Avery said, showing Ani around the apartment she would share with Layanna. The rooms were spacious, clean, and boasted a fine view of the city.

Ani just nodded.

“What’s wrong? This looks comfortable. You’ll have good food, great tutors, and I’ll get to see you every day when I’m done in the lab. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

She nodded again, just as silently.

“Ani?”

She started to say something, then frowned, a troubled look on her face. “Papa ...” She spoke in a strange, subdued voice, all the fight gone out of her.

“Yes?”

“When is my birthday?”

The ground moved beneath his feet. “That’s a silly question. It’s when it always is. The fourteenth of Aeric.”

“Is it? I mean, I was ... brought back ... on a different day than the day I, you know, died or whatever. So the years don’t really match up. I’m actually older than I would be if we went by the calendar. It says I don’t turn nine for another month, but—”

He nodded, the thought having occurred to him long before; he had hoped she wouldn’t realize it. “You’ve actually lived nine years already.” Lived, he repeated to himself. She had not-lived for four years. “Nine years and, let’s see, two months.”

“Yeah.” Her voice was small. “Right.”

Gently, he squeezed her shoulder and put on a smile, though he felt a swell of worry and fear rise up through him, cold and dark. Questions which he had suppressed for so long surfaced. Would she age normally? Was it possible that dying and being resurrected had affected her maturation? She could be stuck like this all her life, or she could age too slowly, or too rapidly, growing old in a matter of years. Or days. No one knew. And what of medical complications? Was she more prone to getting sick now, or more resistant to disease? When she did reach maturation, if she did, could she bear children? Should she?

He tried to keep all this from his face. He smiled and said, “Then I guess somebody deserves a birthday party, doesn’t she?”

She looked up, eyes wide. Not smiling, exactly, but hopeful.

“Really?”

“Really.” He kissed her cheek, then stood to go, tired after a long day. She stopped him with a tug on his sleeve.

“Papa?”

“Yes?”

“I’m … still having those dreams.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“There’s the door that I’m walking toward, always at the same distance, huge and crystal, and the sounds—the music and bells. And the heartbeat. Always the heartbeat. What could it mean, Papa?” Fear trembled in her voice.

He smiled and hugged her again, which was all the answer he had. Leaving Ani with Layanna, Avery returned to his own new room to finish settling in. Out of all the party, he was the only one with private accommodations, but somehow he didn’t feel honored, only lonely. Before flinging himself on the bed, which was suitably soft, something caught his attention:

A business card rested on his pillow, its ivory grain a flash of yellow in the dim light. What in the world?

Feeling the hairs stand on the back of his neck—Someone’s been in my room—he plucked the card up and examined it. The front showed a serpentine dragon, more worm than reptile, curled in a tight circle. No letters, no words, nothing.

It was the symbol of the Drakes, the old royal family, deposed and hounded, any surviving members of their clan, like Mari, in hiding or fled far, far away.

Noting the shaking of his hand, Avery turned the card over. A neat, elegant, feminine script read, Meet me. Now. Luya’s.

He stared at the card for a long time, thinking.

He found the restaurant easily enough. It was a fashionable place downtown, one that served fully processed gourmet seafood.

Two hard-looking men waited outside for him, and one ushered him inside Luya’s while the other remained on the street, perhaps making sure Avery hadn’t been followed. Or perhaps they had enemies that might be watching. The large man took Avery past the receptionist, who, surprisingly, did not protest the admittance of an infected man (further showing the importance of whomever he was about to meet), past most of the dining crowd (who looked at him but made no comment loud enough for Avery to hear), to a dark booth in the back, where someone waited for him.

It wasn’t Sheridan. He had half thought it might be her. Gods, is that why I came? Why HAVE I come? I should’ve ignored the note. Hell, I should’ve reported it.

The woman—lady, Avery corrected himself—was tall and handsome, her dark hair, streaked with silver, pulled back in a tight ponytail. She wore a dress that, while conservative, was elegantly fashioned and obviously tailored. There was something about her face ... Avery frowned but couldn’t place it. She looked strangely familiar.

“Thank you for seeing me,” she said.

“Of course.”

“Please, do sit, Doctor.”

He obliged. “What may I help you with?”

She smiled, and it was a surprisingly warm smile. “Dr. Francis Avery, husband of Marisela Unlow Riegasoc Vorys, father of Anissa May.”

“And I would have the honor of addressing ...?”

She gave another smile, but this one was small. “You may simply call me Oris, for the moment. Full names can wait, although you may have guessed it already. I represent a group that would like very much to meet with you.”

“Then why aren’t they here?”

“They want you to visit them. I’m something of an ambassador.”

“You wanted to see if I were followed.” He leaned back, studying her. “Just who are you? Why do you know about me, my family? How did you find me?”

“Oh, we’ve been looking. Keeping our eyes open, and we have many eyes. As for your other questions ... well. You saw our card.”

“The Drakes.”

She didn’t seem to like the word, but she refrained from commenting on it. “The group wants very badly to meet with you, Doctor, and it would be in your best interests to do so—yours, Ani’s, and Ghenisa’s.”

“That’s the second time you’ve mentioned my daughter. I don’t like it.”

“She’s the reason I asked you here.”

Suddenly he realized something. He sat up sharply. “No. It can’t be ... You look just like her.” Well, not just, he reflected, but the resemblance was striking. If Mari had lived another fifteen years, she might well have looked a lot like Oris.

“We want to meet with you,” Oris repeated. “It is of the utmost urgency.”

He swallowed. “Give me an address. Let me think about it.”