The house was a small Tudor mansion surrounded by trees and set in its own grounds. The estate agent claimed it had once belonged to Queen Elizabeth the First, although she’d never actually stayed there. (Pyrgus looked her up after he bought the place and discovered she was quite a famous Analogue World monarch.) It was private, comfortable, a little gloomy and equipped with an astonishing number of vanity mirrors. He kept catching sight of himself unawares and thinking he was looking at his father. It was a weird feeling.
He tore his attention away with an effort. ‘So it’s happened?’ he said.
Nymph nodded. ‘Yes.’
He’d noticed a difference in her since the fever aged him. It was a subtle thing, but definitely there. She was more sober when they were together. She seldom teased him any more. It was almost as if she was treating him… with deference. He knew where it was coming from, of course. When she looked at him, she saw exactly what he saw in the mirror – a middle-aged man. That couldn’t be easy for her, however much she loved him. The time plague had to be stopped soon and not just for the sake of the Realm. If they couldn’t call a halt to it, their marriage was at risk.
‘Henry was there?’ he asked.
Nymph nodded again. ‘Yes.’
‘In the room?’
‘Yes,’ Nymph said soberly. ‘Henry didn’t realise Mr Fogarty was dead – he thought he’d just fallen asleep.’
‘Which explains why he never told anybody.’
‘And why he was so shocked when Blue told him,’ Nymph agreed.
‘He was preparing to take Mr Fogarty home?’
‘Waiting beside the Palace portal, exactly the way it was prophesied,’ Nymph said.
‘But he thought he was taking back a living Gatekeeper!’ Pyrgus exclaimed with budding understanding. ‘Not just the body, as we assumed.’
‘Exactly,’ Nymph said.
The window of their living room looked out across a sweeping lawn bordered in the distance by a line of trees. A peacock strode across the grass, bobbing its head. Peacocks were magnificent birds, found only in the Analogue World now they’d become extinct in the Faerie Realm. This one had come with the house, the property of the previous owner who was too soft-hearted to move it from its old home. At dusk it gave eerie calls. Pyrgus thought it might be looking for its wife, who’d died just before the house changed hands.
‘Blue still doesn’t know?’ he asked.
‘No.’
‘Do you think she suspects?’ Pyrgus knew his sister very well. The slightest suspicion and she’d be on it like a terrier.
‘I doubt it,’ Nymph said. ‘I don’t see how she can. Now that Mr Fogarty is dead, you and I and Madame Cardui are the only ones who know.’
‘Blue’s smart,’ Pyrgus said. ‘We should never underestimate her.’ All the same, he was reassured. He watched the peacock wander off, then asked, is Henry very upset?’
‘Terribly,’ Nymph said, ‘I felt so sorry for him. I desperately wanted to tell him.’
Pyrgus glanced round at her. ‘But you didn’t?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Good,’ Pyrgus said.
After a moment Nymph stood up and walked across to join him at the window. ‘Were you watching the peacock?’
‘Yes.’ Pyrgus nodded, ‘I think he misses his mate.’
Nymph said, ‘Are you going back to the Realm?’
Pyrgus said, a little bleakly, ‘Yes.’
‘You don’t have to, you know.’
‘Yes, I do,’ Pyrgus told her.
Nymph licked her lips. ‘It’s dangerous. It’s very dangerous.’
‘I know.’
‘For everybody.’
‘I know.’
‘I’ll go with you,’ Nymph said.
‘Yes,’ said Pyrgus.