Elizabeth dived for the window and flung herself behind the curtains. A red velvet shield fell against her nose as the door on the other side opened. And there she stood, a frozen, paralysed statue of fear, barely even daring to breathe, certain that the hammering in her chest would be enough to betray her with deadly, pinpoint accuracy.

　　But the voices kept on talking as if she wasn`t even there.

　　"Of course, your Majesty", said the first, as rough as sandpaper on a brick. "Everything is under control. The box has been moved to your private vault and the intruders have been taken to the Skycage".

　　"All of them?" The woman`s voice was steeped in a calm, unhurried refinement.

　　"Every last one, your Majesty".

　　"Excellent. And what about the girl?"

　　There was the grumble of a chair being dragged across the floor.

　　"She is with them too".

　　"You are certain that it is her?"

　　"Yes, your Majesty".

　　"How do you know?"

　　"Your Majesty, if our spy on the Wyse Council said that the girl was coming here then surely it must be - "

　　The next few words the woman said were spoken very slowly, as if she was talking to somebody quite dim and confused. "How many men did it take to capture them, Commander?"

　　"Twelve in total. It was all very quick".

　　"I`m sure it was. And what colour was her hair?"

　　"Your Majesty?"

　　"It`s a simple question. Even you should be able to answer it".

　　"Yes, your Majesty . . . her hair was as white as the snows of Bir-a-Tor".

　　A mercurial sigh curled delicately into the air. "Commander, the girl from my visions has hair of wild flame. And if the one in your possession really was foretold by the prophecy then your twelve men would not have stood a chance".

　　The woman paused for a few moments, giving time for the point to sink in. "Which means . . . that the girl I`m looking for is still somewhere in this tower".

　　Elizabeth`s frayed and tattered nerves were unravelling faster than cheap cotton socks.

　　"I see, your Majesty. Then I shall send my men to find her, right away".

　　"Good. Be sure to send more than twelve. This is now the second time in a week that you have failed me. I might have hoped for more care after your disastrous mission to the Northern Ridge. You had better go before I rethink my decision to allow you to keep hold of your head".

　　A pair of boots snapped crisply to attention.

　　The closing of the door left behind an impeccable silence. Elizabeth`s mind filled it with a boiling mad frenzy of thoughts: Was this woman the Empress? Had the others really been captured? Was this box` the Omnaria?This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

　　And why did everyone keep talking about a prophecy?

　　Part of her then wanted so desperately to flee, to break out from behind the curtains and to run and run and run and run until her feet wore out, her legs gave way and all she had left was a roll.

　　But to move meant certain capture, and the others were in need of her help.

　　So instead of taking flight she gathered up every scrap of composure she could find, ignored the hefty thudding in her ears, and waited . . .

　　It wasn`t long before her feet went numb and a deepening ache settled into every muscle and bone.

　　She was down to her last few drops of endurance when there came a soft, polite knock at the door.

　　"I`m very sorry to bother you, your Majesty", said a nervous, trembling voice. "But we`re having a slight problem with one of the guests".

　　"Don`t tell me - Lady Thistlebrush?"

　　"Yes, your Majesty. She is demanding to know why her banquet has been cancelled and is refusing to return to her room until she speaks with you directly. She says that now the train line through the Caradeen forest is running and you`ve taken the first delivery of her Coldrock - which, she would like to remind you, is the rarest and most potent form of coal to be found anywhere in Orrica, thank-you very much - you must keep to your side of the bargain and arrange the betrothal of her son, and that unless this is sorted out right away she`s going to go back to Galbreth and close down all the mines, which will put a rather quick and unfortunate end to whatever it is you`re planning. They were her exact words. I`m afraid she`s extremely insistent".

　　"Yes, she certainly is". The small speech was followed by a drawn-out moan of contempt. "Very well. You may inform Lady Thistlebrush that I shall receive her latest round of complaints in the Moon Chamber, as soon as I have completed my work here".

　　"Your Majesty".

　　The door closed.

　　"And I shall try extra hard not to throttle the wittering idiot!"

　　Elizabeth listened carefully as the woman at the desk completed whatever she was doing and - finally - left the room, giving the door a hefty SLAM on the way out.

　　It was several long minutes before Elizabeth peeped out from behind the curtains to find that she was quite alone once more.

　　Right. She needed a plan.

　　Find the Skycage. Rescue the others. Steal back the Omnaria. And work out some way of escaping from this wretched, horrendous place.

　　Obviously all this was quite a lot to be getting on with. So it was probably best, she thought, to break it down into smaller, more manageable chunks.

　　Starting with the desk.

　　Elizabeth forced her legs into action, moving slowly across the room like a stiff and rusty robot. On top of the desk was a large feathery quill, a pot of ink and a host of handwritten letters. Elizabeth scanned them with deft and flighty eyes.

　　She was just about to move on to the drawers when something hooked her attention.

　　The note was quite unlike any of the others. The parchment was coarse, there was no crest with a striking bird of prey and no elaborate signature bestowed along the bottom. Elizabeth read the words with a creeping sense of doom:

　　Your Imperial Greatness,

　　I was distressed to hear of our failure in the North, though heartened to learn that at least we still have the machine. The news from Solace is that the One From Beyond is here and the alternative arrangements are all in place. Our plan remains unbroken. The rest of the Wyse Council shall never suspect a thing.

　　Forever your loyal servant,

　　A

　　Elizabeth`s hands were shaking like maracas by the time she reached the end. Luella was right: there was a traitor on the Wyse Council - and it had to be Arraflax! The Omnaria. The attack on the North Star. The Blackcoats knew exactly what they were after. And this, right here, was the evidence that would prove it.

　　Whatever happened she had to get the note to Barnaby.

　　Elizabeth folded it up, stuffed it down the inside of a boot, readied herself and darted for the door.

　　Detecting no sign of life on the other side, intrepidly she opened it.

　　The drawing room was a luxurious collection of plush cream rugs and bushy potted plants. Nestled amongst the sofas were more orange glow lamps and a white marble bust of an old man with devilish horns.

　　Directly opposite this was what she hoped would be the exit.

　　But what if it was locked? Or worse, if it was guarded?

　　Elizabeth stared at the door as though it was a maths quiz sent to annoy her. And from somewhere deep within it there emerged the outlines of a daring solution.

　　There was only one way to find out if it would work . . .