“Because at last I have everything I need,” Aurora said, “and you’re the final missing piece. I assume you know your father was successful in creating a primateria source?”
“Yes,” Zaria muttered, not adding that she’d only just found out this week.
“Well, after years and years of searching, I managed to get my hands on it.” Aurora’s lips curled up again, and Zaria vaguely wondered if she also looked that smug when she smiled. “I suspect Itzal tried to destroy it but realized he was incapable of carrying out the process in reverse, or else couldn’t bring himself to do it. So he pawned it, hoping it would change hands enough times to be impossible for me to find.”
“He knew you wanted to find it?” Even then, her father had somehow known Aurora was still around.
“Oh, indeed. Making—or finding—a primateria source has been my goal since before you were born. Itzal should have known thatgetting rid of it wouldn’t be enough. The source made it all the way to Ireland, where it was resold a final time to Waterhouse and Co. Carmot is so easily mistaken for ruby, you see. Of course, then Waterhouse went and set it in a necklace, which he in turn entered into the Great Exhibition.”
Carmot, Zaria recalled, was the official name for the substance comprising a primateria source. “So you got Pritchard to take it,” she said dully. “He’s on the commission and would have had access to the displays ahead of time. He took the necklace and replaced it with a fake.”
“Indeed. Alexander Ward was onto me, you see. He wanted to get the necklace before I did, but he was always a few steps behind. Imagine my surprise when you got wrapped up in his schemes and stole the forgery!” Aurora’s blue eyes were alight with feverish amusement. “I’d already been devising a plan to ensure you stayed in London until I had need of you, and you provided me with the perfect way. Not to mention the opportunity to access—and then destroy—your kingpin friend in the process.” She shrugged. “I suppose that didn’t quite work as I’d hoped, butc’est la vie, as dear Cecile used to say.”
“Don’t talk about Cecile,” Zaria said through gritted teeth. “You didn’t even know her.”
“Oh, I knew Cecile Meurdrac very well. We ran in the same circles, so to speak.”
“Do you mean the Scriniarii?”
Aurora continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “Of course, she was the one who betrayed me to Alexander Ward, despite claiming to have left his employ.”
“That’s why you sent someone to ransack her apartment” was Zaria’s fierce retort. “You wanted to make sure none of the evidence she uncovered about your plans remained.”
“Is that not reasonable? All we found, though, was that absurd painting. It makes one wonder if dear Cecile was losing her mind. Unfortunate—she was a talented alchemologist. But I can’t pretend to be surprised Ward had her killed in the end.”
That wasn’t exactly what had happened, although Zaria had no interest in recounting the story. “That’s why Vaughan and the Curator seemed to be connected,” she said instead. “They’re bothyou.”
Aurora feigned clapping, her palms never coming together. “You really are a clever little thing. I suppose it only makes sense. I was worried, you know, when Evan said you’d gone to visit Louisa Hoffman. I was in the early stages of trying to gain her allegiance.” A theatrical sigh. “But then Evan went and killed her. She told him you’d come to her about primateria sources, and I suppose he panicked. Very irritating, to say the least. He’s usually such a good boy.”
Her mother spoke of Louisa’s death with the same detached tone Kane always used. As if the loss of life meant nothing to her. Was that why Zaria sometimes feltwrong, she wondered? Because this was the type of person she’d come from?
She swallowed with some effort. “I know what you’re doing. I know the devices at the Exhibition are set up in the arrangement of the Magnum Opus, and that you’re harnessing the energy of everyone who enters the building. Why? What do you need it for?”
“Don’t you worry about that,” Aurora said, her tone saccharine.
“Then at least tell me why you needme.”
“I need you to be your father’s daughter. You see, if I can’t have Itzal’s energy, yours will have to do.”
Now—nowZaria understood. “You’re planning to carry out the process of projection. You want to re-create the Magnum Opus, but instead of creating a new primateria source, you’re going to replicate an existing one.”
Everything in alchemology is inextricably connected to the creator’s own life force, she remembered telling Kane and Fletcher the day she explained the Magnum Opus to them.So I’m not sure projection is a real possibility unless you’re attempting to replicate something thatyoualso created.
Aurora hadn’t created a primateria source, but Itzal had. Which meant Aurora couldn’t replicate it, but Itzal could. Except Itzal was dead.
Zaria was the next best thing.
ZARIA
It was nightfall before the door to the parlor opened again.
Zaria didn’t know how many hours had passed. She’d spent them staring blankly at the tapestry on the wall opposite the sofa, the intricate stitches blurring before her eyes.
Her mother. Hermotherwas at the heart of everything. Vaughan. The Curator. Zaria had never had any love for the woman who’d abandoned her at birth, but now she desperately wished their paths had never crossed at all. Knowing someone didn’t love you and being forced to face it head-on were two vastly different things. Aurora wasn’t a good person. She was quite possibly mad, and still Zaria didn’t understand what she was planning. Whatever the plan was, though, it had worried Cecile enough to pen a letter to Ward.
Despite regaining some feeling in her legs, Zaria didn’t have enough control to stand, so she was forced to remain motionless assomeone else entered the room. Her breath caught—she was anticipating her mother once more—but to her surprise, it was Maisie who appeared in her periphery.
“What doyouwant?” Zaria muttered, too tired and furious to care that the girl always had a gun in her possession.
