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pretending some interest in their breakfast. Jack left the buffet and took the spare seat between Walter Herne and his father, Silvius.
    Of them all, only Silvius looked as though he was actually enjoying the food.
    Jack took a forkful of egg and chewed on it, studying his companions. Noah was dressed very smartly in a tailored suit with a soft blouse beneath, and Jack managed, only barely, to repress a wince when he saw the diamond band on the ring finger of her left hand.
    Weyland, next to her, was studiously ignoring Jack.
    Harry and Stella, at the head of the table, were trying their best to look relaxed. Stella had managed it reasonably effortlessly, although she barely pickedat her food, but Harry looked almost as tense as Weyland.
    Walter simply looked out of place, and as if he could barely wait until he thought it was time enough to ask permission to leave the table.
    Grace sat at the far end of the table. She didn’t even pretend to be interested in food, but sat staring at her wrists in her lap. Jack noticed she had on a very long-sleeved blouse.
    “I need someone to drive me down to London,” he said, “so I can wander about. And, if it is possible, can I ask for someone to arrange a car for me?” That shouldn’t be too difficult, he thought, given the talent sitting about this table.
    “Weyland?” Harry said.
    “I’ll be driving Noah and Grace back home this afternoon,” Weyland said, not looking up from the tablecloth. “You can come with us, if you like.”
    “You don’t live here?” Jack said.
    “No,” Noah answered, probably feeling that Weyland may have exhausted his store of politeness for the day. “We visit often, but we live in a private suite at the Savoy. I didn’t want to move too far from central London.”
    Jack pursed his lips in a silent whistle. The Savoy? It was one of London’s grandest and most expensive hotels, built on the Strand on the site of a medieval palace, from which it had taken its name. His lips twitched. “Only the best for Eaving?”
    Weyland looked up. “It was my choice, not Noah’s. I had grown sick of living in squalor.”
    “But which is more fitting for you, eh?” Jack said, holding Weyland’s gaze.
    “Jack,” Harry said, “we can’t afford to—”
    Jack’s head whipped about to Harry. “I can afford a little bitterness now and again, surely.”
    “You have just used up your allowance, Jack,” Harry said. The tone of his voice was deceptively mild, and no one in the breakfast room missed the reprimand. As Lord of the Faerie, Harry commanded everyone in the room.
    Jack’s jaw tightened, but he dropped his eyes, and began to fork his eggs about his plate.
    “I also have a car I can give you,” Weyland said, sounding as if he had to force out each word. “I have three garaged at the Savoy. Can’t use them all now. You can take one.”
    Jack looked back at Weyland. “Thank you,” he said. He hesitated, and then realised horribly that the pause was growing too long. “It was a bitter pill for me to lose Noah,” he said, “and my tongue has become too used to that bitterness. My remark was uncalled for, Weyland. I apologise.”
    Weyland nodded, accepting the apology, but his face didn’t lose any of its hostility.
    Stella blinked, then looked at Noah, raising her eyebrows.
    Noah caught the look, smiled, and then gave a short laugh of genuine amusement. “I find it amazing that we can all sit here at breakfast, and that the worst thing we can do to each other is exchange a few snide comments. Once, we would have hurled assorted knives, daggers, arrows and murderous promises.” She looked at Jack. “Jack, thank you for coming back. We have been longing for you for so many years…yes, even Weyland—”
    “Absolutely desperately, old chap,” Weyland said, and the mood about the table lightened even further as everyone managed varying levels of grins.
    Noah shot him a grateful look, then returned her gaze to Jack: “—that to have