"I should send Til and the children into the country," Edwin mused. It would be safer that way. Six more Spects dead. He'd taken the news with dignity, though the vein in his temple hadn't stopped jumping.

"You do not wish them to be here for your father's funeral? For your coronation?" Hubert sat across the desk from him, arms crossed, eyebrow raised.

Edwin sighed, considering. The palace was eerily quiet at this hour, everyone sleeping. "The captain of my guard is missing. Prince Albert is moving against me. I want him arrested."

"We have enough evidence locked away to weave a plausible story. I can make the order if need be." Hubert regarded him with a vulture's gaze.

Edwin rubbed the stubble growing along his chin, missing his beard, thinking through the next few days. Prince Albert would call for a vote of no confidence. And by Light, with the number of Technologist supporters, they might just get it. "Albert has conspired against me, against my father, for long enough. Give the order."

Hubert gave a pleased nod. "And your family?"

"Have them packed and ready to depart first thing in the morning. I want them out. At least for now." He looked over the mass of documents on his desk. "That is all."

Hubert stood. "Very good, Your Majesty. Very good." The next moment he looked up, the man was gone.

***

Tabby stood in the shop across the workbench from Steiner. Midnight was out. He'd agreed to gather a few supplies and food. The white prism on the bench was fully charged. She eyed it, brow furrowed. "So tell me again how I do this?"

"It's simpler than you think. Really. You already wield white."

"Yes, but—"

"Focus your efforts on pulling the light directly from the prism. You want to send it out into the air around you in all directions. Remember, light carries momentum. White light carries the most. When you send it out, you're pushing it. And you'll want to be sharp about it. You're not siphoning it, you're bursting it."

"Yes, but—"

"Just as you control other wavelengths of light with your mind, so too does white submit. You know this. You've done it with healing."

She nodded. "Fine. Okay. Here we go." She closed her eyes and took the prism in one hand, holding her other over it as if it were a magic crystal ball. That thought almost made her snort. She felt it, the power of it, lurking within the glassy confines. It pushed against her consciousness, as if whispering. She thought of what she wanted, straining her focus, to create a flare. To push Steiner away. A deep breath later, she snapped her fingers. That's what felt natural, anyway. A brief flare of white behind her eyelids told her something had worked. But there'd been no noise, no clatter of destruction.

She peeled open an eyelid, wincing at what she might find. Steiner stood, arms crossed, watching her.

"It didn't work?"

He snorted. "Do you see me on the ground? No, try again."

"What did it do?" She glanced down at the prism. Only a small bit of light was gone. It was slightly dimmer, but that's it.

"You only pulled a bit. You need to pull everything, one massive shove, to have any kind of effect." The rest of the explanation went unspoken. By pulling everything, the prism would be fully drained in one go. Light power was multiplicative. It worked more powerfully in larger amounts, which was why large prisms worked best for powering most industrial objects, or had before the laws outlawing everything.

She tried again, and again. By the time she managed to drain the prism, it was only because she'd tried so many times it had drained naturally, leaving her with a whopping headache.

"Perhaps a break," Steiner suggested. He'd been patient, more so than she expected. Midnight would have made her charge the damn thing up and get straight back to work, and do roofs in the meantime for her failure.

Sweat trickled down her neck. She'd spent the better part of the morning showing Steiner how to heal. He'd managed a few cuts and bruises, nothing serious. But he was a fast learner. It had taken her months, years even, to fully master the ability. Then again, she'd had to teach herself.

"I'm going to go check on our...guest." Steiner stood.

She nodded and went to her workbench. "Nit?"

"All good up here." Nit sent her images of the sky and building below.

"My dragonflies need oiling. Can you call them back in batches?"

"You got it."

She spent long into the afternoon caressing and oiling each little critter. Midnight returned at one point and joined Steiner in the basement. The previous night, she's spent mostly on the roof. When she came down, she found Midnight and Steiner pouring over a messy map of the palace. Flint had given them something useful, it seemed. She found herself studying it over their shoulders, memorizing the layout, before Midnight rolled it up and Steiner departed for the night. She and Midnight visited the bathhouse just outside of Crock's Row after that, before turning in for the night. One of the many times she hated that the buildings in Crock's Row didn't have plumbing.

When she finished with her dragonflies, she sent them zooming away. The mindless work helped to reduce her headaches, as did a soothing cup of chamomile tea. It was one of the best cures for light sickness.

"Steiner said you didn't make much progress with him." Midnight appeared beside her. He took the cloth bag of things he'd gotten at the market and hauled it upstairs. She watched him go without saying anything. He came back down empty handed and kissed her cheek, sending a flare of unexpected warmth through her at the gesture. So different. He was so different to what he'd been before her torture.

He put an arm on each side of her, bracing his body on the workbench. She sat crosslegged on the stool, a mess of tools and scraps in front of her. "What are you working on?" he asked, genuinely curious. His breath caressed the shell of her ear.

"I oiled my little critters and sent them back out." He grunted. "Want me to make you anything?"

"Me?" He didn't bother hiding the surprise in his voice.

"Why not? A little pet?"

"Could you make me something like Nit? How are you connected to him, anyway? I've never asked." She showed him the lump beneath her wrist where a fleck of Nit's prism lived. Uninterested in going into detail, it was the only explanation she gave. He ran a finger over it. "Hmm. I always thought it was scar tissue, so I never mentioned it. Does it hurt?"

She chuckled. "No, but it itches something awful every time the bugger transforms."

"Interesting. Not sure I want something in my head like that."

"What about a blood bond?" She told him about the bees, about how they needed just a drop to track a person, and explained that it was the reason she'd warned him off his marks. "Even without a full paring, prisms make mechanimals pretty damn smart."

"I'll think about it." He pushed off the bench and retreated upstairs.

She stayed at the workbench, contemplating the mechanimal she'd make for him, even though he hadn't given her a straight answer. She wasn't sure any sort of shifter was an option. Nit was special, and probably because of the white prism and her ability with white light...and their link. Midnight's would have to be blue, since he was a pentachrome.

Steiner appeared a few minutes later. "I gave him some water..."

"Well, how considerate of you." She narrowed her eyes. "You can't keep him down there forever, Conrad. I don't want him in here any longer than necessary." The thought of a full mask sitting in the same building as her didn't sit well. "I don't even want to know what state he's in."

"No. You don't." Steiner shook his head.

"I want him out by tomorrow morning."

"Fine. Won't be much point keeping him longer than that, anyway." Steiner shut the wall door behind him and smoothed his clothes. "I'm going out for a few minutes. When I return, we'll practice again."

And indeed they did. Steiner was pleased with Tabby's progress. By the end of the afternoon, she'd managed to knock him back and send him staggering. She hadn't laid him flat on the floor yet, but it was progress. When he left, she had just enough sun to recharge the prism a final time. Midnight offered to subject himself and she gave it a final try, knocking him back into one of the shelves. When she opened her eyes, she couldn't help her wicked smile.

He eyed her a moment then said, "You hungry?"

She grinned at him. "Theodore Carter. Are you offering to cook for me?"

"Only if you're brave."

She barked a laugh. "All right. Let's see what you can do." He nodded and went up to the loft.

***

Midnight read through the Evening Times across the table from where Tabby worked with a needle and thread. They'd long since eaten the meal he'd managed to cook, chicken and vegetables. Most of which was tough and overdone. The char on the vegetables wasn't awful, but she'd have preferred Marley's. Instead, she ate it while he gave her an I-told-you-so look.

Tabby made alterations to the maid uniform and guard uniforms Steiner had obtained earlier that day. He'd broken into a couple of flats to get them, which had required some investigative research. He'd found owners of similar builds. They were't a perfect match, though. She had to pull in the seams on the bodice and waist of her uniform. She had to loosen the seams for both guard uniforms. Fortunately, palace guards wore knee-length boots so there was no need to lengthen either pair of pants.

She found the work soothing. A comfortable silence stretched out between her and Midnight. Every so often he grunted, turned a page in the paper, and continued reading. It was so...domestic. So normal. She barked a laugh at the thought and he looked up, eyes searching. "What's so funny?"

At the sight of him, peering at her over the paper, she laughed again. "Nothing. It's just, I can almost picture us here, in another life, doing normal things like this. Me the homemaker and you coming home from a long day of work."

He arched an eyebrow. "Right. Work."

She laughed again, and this time he laughed too. She stilled. She didn't remember hearing him laugh like this—or at all, for that matter. They both returned to their tasks, but she continued to steal glances at him. His muscular build was relaxed against the chair, an ankle propped on his knee. She resisted the urge to plop herself in his lap and run her hands over every inch of him. Isn't that what a domestic housewife would do? While he'd shown more affection towards her the past few days than in an entire lifetime, he wasn't handsy. But he did show spurts of it here and there. She looked down at the fabric in her hands and made a few more stitches.

"Huh. Interesting. Listen to this." She looked up, then, at the sound of his voice. "Earlier this morning, sources spotted a loaded carriage leaving Lightbourne Palace. Witnesses claim they saw future queen Matilda Whithall and her children within, with no sign of Candela's soon to be king. With Prince Edwin's coronation date set for tomorrow, there's no answer whether his wife and children will be present. Inside sources within the palace claim that the queen was feeling unwell and looking for some much needed time along the coast. Seaside Palace is the likely destination." He fell quiet, but his eyes continued to read further down the article.

"So the prince is sending them away? Interesting." She tapped her chin. "Think it's Hubert Maltby's doing? He would want the prince and his family safe, and having failed to apprehend us, maybe they suspect what we intend."

"Mmm..." He didn't look up. Only frowned. "It's possible. Ghost is smart. He probably informed Prince Edwin there was a chance we would come for him. If I were the prince, I'd want my family leagues away, just in case."

"I don't like the idea. That he should suspect us coming at all."

"The entire Council has been eliminated," said Midnight, stating the obvious. Except for the last member still residing in her damn basement. And Deadlock, of course.

She finished with her own uniform and switched to Midnight's, letting out seams and stitching in new ones. Like so much else, Elias taught her to sew. It was a useful skill, oftentimes invaluable. She quickly let out the hems on the sleeves and sewed new ones, straining against the dim light. It would have been much easier by daylight.

Every so often, she gave Nit a gentle caress of her mind, checking in. Nit spent most of their time on the roof and in the sky above the workshop. They took their new management job very seriously, ensuring each of her dragonfly critters performed adequately. It hadn't been necessary before, but Nit was glad to take on this new duty. When this was all over, she'd find some way to reward the little bugger.

"Come and try this on," she said at last, shaking out the coat.

Midnight set the paper on the coffee table and stood, adjusting the sleeves of his tunic so that he might slip it on over. His eyes didn't stray from her face as she made adjustments, checking the coat more than was necessary for a proper fitment, if only for an excuse to touch him. Then she stepped back and took her bottom lip between her fingers, assessing. "You know, you look pretty good in a uniform," she said at last, her voice dropping low.

"Is that so." His eyes narrowed and he took a step towards her. "Shall I keep it on tonight while I turn you over this table?" Her heart leapt in her chest at the unexpected promise, at the suggestion that he was willing to try what he hadn't been willing to try before. She glanced at the table, then back at him, then back at the table, fire shooting up her limbs. "I'll take that as a yes," he added.

She hardly had time to catch her breath before he cleared the distance between them and did exactly as promised, sweeping everything off the surface. But he was gentle with her, where before he wouldn't have been. He pulled her back against his chest first, wrapping himself around her as he slipped his hand down her pants, caressing her, earning a groan as he slipped one, and then two fingers inside her. She squirmed against him, backing into him further, feeling the hardness of him against her. When he was satisfied, he pulled at the ties of her pants and removed her corset. Her breasts sprang free and she gasped. He palmed them, pressing her back against his chest with each movement, before gently bracing her arms on the table. She let him lead. Let him move her into position.

"If...if you need me to stop, I understand."

"Please don't. I...I've always liked it like this. Even if you were rough sometimes. I just wanted a bit more touching, that's all." She felt him hesitate behind her, at her words. "Theo..." she breathed, afraid he'd changed his mind. "Please." She burned with need, the need of him, so she lifted onto her toes, trying to control her heightened breathing.

"Touching," he repeated. She gasped when his hands found her then, palms sliding down her back, then along her thighs where he squeezed. She huffed. "Like this?" he asked. And then his fingers slipped inside her again and she lost control, moaning.

"Yes," she managed. "Like that."

"Mmm..."

He thrust deeper, curling his fingers as he went. "I could make you come just like this. Right here before me."

"Yes," she hissed, pressing more firmly on her toes, exposing herself more fully to him. He swore. But his fingers thrust deeper, harder. And she felt herself rising, and just as she drew close, he slowed. "No," she whined. He hummed and removed his fingers entirely, and she felt the aching emptiness of them. She waited a beat—but just a beat—before she heard him fuss with the buttons on his pants, before she felt the tip of him at her entrance. Then he was sliding in. Her breath whooshed out of her—relieved. This was so, so much better than his fingers.

He didn't thrust into her the way he'd done the night previous, when he'd splayed her before him like a feast. He kept his movements slow, agonizingly slow, as he leaned over her back, placing his palms flat against the backs of her hands, bracing his arms against hers. She almost thrust her hips back into him as her frustration grew, as her core tightened. But soon enough she was groaning, panting. And he was to, with each movement. Sounds she hadn't heard him make very often, if ever, and she relished in them before she came apart right as he did.