“Okay,” I said at last when it was clear that she was waiting for a reaction.

  “As in, House Ashford.”

  “. . . Okay?”

  Lucella frowned at me.

  “Not ringing any bells, sorry,” I said. My brief flash of excitement was fading; it was looking as though she didn’t know anything after all. Still, I had to check. “When you said ‘your family,’ did you mean someone called William Oakwood?”

  Lucella looked at me as if I were an idiot. “Of course not.”

  “Right,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment. I started to move around her.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I think you’ve got me mistaken for someone else.”

  “Don’t walk away from me,” Lucella said with a frown, and sidestepped to block my path.

  I stopped with an internal sigh. In London, if a stranger comes up to you on the street, it generally means one of three things. First: they’re looking for directions. Second: they want money. Third: they’re drunk, on drugs, crazy, or all of the above. Lucella obviously wasn’t lost, and she hadn’t started to spin me a story about how she had to get home and needed three pounds for the bus fare or whatever, which just left “drunk/drugged/crazy.” I didn’t really want to know exactly which of those boxes she ticked, but unfortunately she was standing between me and my front door, so it was looking like I was about to find out.

  Lucella and I stared at each other. The annoyance faded from Lucella’s face, replaced by a thoughtful expression. “It’s weird how you don’t look like any of them,” she told me.

  Now that we were this close, I couldn’t help but notice how pretty she was. Too bad about the on-drugs-or-crazy thing. “Excuse me,” I told her.

  “You do know what I’m talking about, right?”

  “Not really, no.”

  Lucella stared at me for a second, then suddenly laughed. “Well, this isn’t going how I expected.”

  “Look, I don’t mean to be rude,” I said, “but can you please let me through?”

  “What? Oh.” Lucella stepped aside.

  I walked past. Lucella was eyeing me thoughtfully, but to my relief she didn’t do anything. Now if I could just get indoors before she—

  “You are a drucrafter, though, right?”

  I stopped dead and turned. Lucella was standing with one hand on her hip, watching me.

  “What?” I managed.

  “You know, someone who can use drucraft?” Lucella asked. “A channeller, or a tyro at least? Because if not, then I really wasted my time coming here.”

  I didn’t answer, and an interested look came into Lucella’s eyes. “So you do know what I’m talking about.”

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  Lucella studied me for a few more seconds, then seemed to come to a decision. “You know what, why not? Let’s go inside.”

  I looked at her.

  Lucella raised her eyebrows. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

  I hesitated. I didn’t know what to make of Lucella, and part of me was still wondering if this was some sort of scam. But if it was, it was the most elaborate one I’d ever seen. Lucella was only the second person I’d ever come face to face with who knew what the word “drucraft” even meant, and I really, really wanted to find out what else she knew.

  And even if she was just making it all up . . . well, she was a pretty girl about my age who seemed interested in me and wanted to come to my room.

  “All right,” I told her.

  I pushed open the gate and walked up to the front door. Lucella made a waving gesture towards something or someone I couldn’t see, and followed.

  * * *

  —

  I closed the door behind us, breathing in the warm air. Chatter and the sounds of TV came from the front bedroom, and Ignas stuck his head out. He’s a big guy with greying hair and stubble who works at the local garage and lives in the other upstairs bedroom with his wife. When he saw Lucella, his eyebrows rose.

  “It’s this way,” I told Lucella, who took a long glance around then climbed the stairs. I followed her up and looked back to see Ignas grin at me and give me a thumbs-up.

  Hobbes was waiting outside my room; he eyed Lucella suspiciously as we reached the landing. I unlocked the door and led Lucella in. “Well,” I said, feeling suddenly embarrassed, “here it is.”

  Lucella stepped through the doorway, looked around, and stopped.

  The silence stretched out. It was the first time I’d ever had a girl in this room, and all of a sudden I was uncomfortably aware of how small and dirty it was. “Well,” Lucella said at last. “This is . . . different.”

  “Um . . .” I tried to think of how I could make a good impression. “Can I take your coat?”

  Lucella handed me her coat—which I now noticed was lined with fur—without looking. Underneath it she was wearing a smart-looking blouse and skirt, and now that I looked more closely, there were rings glinting on her fingers. Standing there in my fleece and worn trousers, I suddenly felt very underdressed.

  Lucella inspected the bed dubiously. “You don’t have fleas, do you?”

  “No,” I said defensively. Well, okay, there had been that one time, but I’d learned my lesson about giving Hobbes his flea treatments.

  Gingerly Lucella perched on the edge of the mattress. I scooped dirty clothes off the chair and sat down.

  “So this is what a slum looks like,” Lucella said, looking around curiously.

  “This isn’t a slum,” I said in annoyance. “Why were you waiting outside my front door?”

  Lucella leant back on her hands, her expression becoming thoughtful. “Because I’ve got a problem,” she told me. “There are some people whose shoes I want to step into, and they aren’t stepping out of them. You understand?”

  “No.”

  “Okay. You know what House Ashford is?”

  “No.”

  “What do you mean, ‘no’?” Lucella said in irritation. “How can—ugh, fine. House Ashford is one of the Noble Houses of the United Kingdom. Not a Great House, but we’re still a real House, not one of those old families who just call themselves one because their great-great-grandfather was someone important or whatever. We’ve got a seat on the Board. You understand?”

  “Okay,” I said slowly. I was starting to seriously wonder if this girl had a few screws loose. Maybe this was the kind of thing Felix and Gabriel meant when they’d say, “The cute ones are always insane.”

  “It’s still kind of weird that you don’t know anything about it,” Lucella said, crossing one leg over the other. “I mean, you are related to us.”

  My thoughts came to a screeching halt. “What?”

  “Well, not a real member, obviously, but still.”

  “Wait,” I said. “You think I’m related to this House Ashford of yours?”

  “Yes?” Lucella said, looking at me with an “Are you stupid?” expression.

  I hesitated. A part of me still wasn’t sure whether to believe Lucella or whether to decide that she was just crazy.

  But if she was crazy, how did she know what a drucrafter even was? And how had she known that I was one?

  “What I don’t get,” Lucella said when I didn’t answer, “is how you don’t seem to know anything. I mean, okay, you only had one parent to teach you this stuff, but still. You didn’t even recognise your House.”

  “I think you’ve got me mixed up with someone else,” I told Lucella. “My dad’s definitely not from your House Ashford.” That, I was sure about. My father’s old-fashioned East London working class, and I didn’t believe for a second that he’d raised me for nearly eighteen years while somehow hiding the fact that he was from some rich noble family.

  “Not your father, your mother,” Lucella said. “I mean, I’m assuming you get it from your mother’s side?”

  “Get what, my drucraft?” I said with a frown. “My dad taught me.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, that’s a bit less impressive, then.”

  “Okay, back up,” I said. “You’re saying my mother’s from House Ashford? The same place you’re from?”

  “That I’m a member of,” Lucella corrected. “And yes. Did she just not mention it or something?”

  “She left when I was one.”

  “Yeah, but you still talk to her, right?”

  “No.”

  Lucella laughed. “What, she just walked out on you and never called even once?”

  I didn’t answer.

  Lucella paused. “Wait, seriously?”

  I looked away.

  “Wow,” Lucella said when I still didn’t speak. “And I thought my parents were bad.”

  I don’t like thinking about my mother. When I was younger, I used to make up stories about her, imagining all kinds of reasons for why she might have left, and why she’d never got in touch. But as year after year went by and I heard nothing from her or from anyone else, the places those trains of thought led to became more and more depressing. When I’d ask my dad about her, he’d go quiet. He’d let slip a few things over the years, but not much. Though come to think of it, he had mentioned she’d come from a rich family.

  As I got into my midteens, the whole thing started to bug me, and I started pestering my father about it, trying to get him to tell me what had happened. I probably would have worn him down eventually, except that right about then was the time he disappeared, and all of a sudden I had much more urgent problems. My mother became just another unsolved mystery, boxed up and pushed to the back of my mind and forgotten about.

  Until now.

  “You know, you’re not what I expected,” Lucella told me.

  “What were you expecting?”

  “Someone more like me, I guess,” Lucella said with a shrug. “I grew up outside the family too, but at least my mother took me for visits. But it’s like you’ve had no contact with them at all. I don’t think half the Ashfords even know you exist.”

  “Was that why you came here today?” I asked. “You thought I’d know some of these people from House Ashford?”

  “Something like that,” Lucella said, swinging her legs.

  “Yeah, sorry.” I couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. Despite how weird it had been, I was realising that I didn’t want this conversation to end. “Though . . .”

  Lucella stared past me.

  “Um . . . I know I’m not who you thought I was, but . . . it’d be really nice to have someone to talk to about drucraft and stuff.”

  Lucella blinked and looked at me. “What?”

  “Um . . .”

  “Oh, you thought I was about to leave?” Lucella said. “No. Actually, I think I’m going to help you.”

  That caught me off guard. “What?”

  “I mean, you’re not who I thought you’d be, but we still might be able to help each other.” She glanced around the room meaningfully. “And I mean, you obviously need it.”

  “I’m doing all right,” I said defensively.

  Lucella raised her eyebrows.

  “What kind of help?” I asked after a pause.

  “A better place to live, some spending money, that kind of thing.” Lucella eyed me critically. “Maybe clean you up a bit.”

  “Hey,” I objected.

  “Plus we could actually teach you some drucraft.”

  “What? How?”

  “Same way everyone learns,” Lucella said. “Tutors and drucraft schools.”

  I was suddenly very alert. “There are drucraft schools?”

  Lucella laughed. “That got your attention. Yes, there are drucraft schools. I mean, they’re just regular private schools mostly, but they have drucraft courses. I went to King’s London—that’s where everyone from House Ashford goes. Obviously you’re a bit old for that now, but there’s always uni. You’re not going to Canterbury or Oxbridge, but we could probably get you into Maxwell or Queen Elizabeth or something.”

  My head was spinning: it was all too much to take in. I’d looked at university brochures from time to time, but never with any serious thought of getting in. But a university that taught drucraft . . . Being able to study that, as much as I wanted, without having to struggle to make a living day after day . . .

  It was tempting. Too tempting. I looked at Lucella in sudden suspicion. “Why are you doing this?”

  “I feel sorry for you, I suppose,” Lucella said with a shrug. “But also, I might need you to do some things.”

  “What kind of things?”

  “House Ashford has some . . . issues,” Lucella said. “Questions of succession, let’s say. Point is, we might be having some problems soon, and when we do, it’d be useful to have someone connected to the House who isn’t in the House. Someone I can rely on. You understand?”

  I looked at Lucella. Her voice was casual, but the way she was watching me wasn’t. “Would this involve doing anything illegal?”

  “Does that bother you?” Lucella asked.

  “Depends on what it is,” I said slowly. I was starting to wonder what I was getting myself into here.

  “You want to be free, don’t follow the rules,” Lucella said lightly. “There are things out there more powerful than House Ashford.”

  Something about those last words made me look up sharply. Lucella wasn’t looking at me, but just for a moment I had the sense of being watched.

  The feeling was gone in an instant, but it left a sense of unease. I rose and turned to the window: outside, the sky was darkening. A crow was perched in the cherry tree, looking in at me through the glass with beady black eyes. I drew the curtain and turned back to Lucella.

  The moment’s pause had let me gather my thoughts. A little voice was telling me to say yes, that this was my big chance. Against that was caution. I didn’t know what I was agreeing to, but something was telling me that it might be something I couldn’t easily back out of.

  But if I put all of that aside, the cold truth was that Lucella was right: I did need the help. At the moment I was just about keeping my head above water, but I had few savings and precious little safety margin, and it really wouldn’t take much for things to go wrong. An accident, an unexpected bill, some mistake at work that cost me my job . . . any of those things could push me into debt, and once you get into that spiral, it’s hard to get out.

  “So?” Lucella said. “What do you say?”

  “I guess we can give it a try,” I said.

  It sounded a bit half-hearted to me, but Lucella gave a satisfied sort of nod. “All right!” she said, clapping her hands. “Let’s see what you can do.”

  “Do with what?”

  “Drucraft, of course.”

  “Why does that matter?”

  Lucella shook her head. “I keep forgetting how new you are to all this. Okay, pay attention.” She held up a finger. “The biggest thing that children of Noble Houses are judged on is their drucraft. Looks count, brains count, but if a family head’s sizing someone up, like for a marriage proposal or something, then the first two things they look at are their House and their drucraft skills. And that goes all the way down. If the armsmen and the servants are a bunch of plebs, well, people are going to think the House is weak. So if we’re going to find some sort of place for you in House Ashford, you’re going to have to measure up.”

  This world of hers sounds really weird. Still, the idea of a place where my drucraft was actually a selling point, and not something to hide, did sound nice . . .

  “So let’s see what you can do with a sigl,” Lucella said.

  I hesitated.

  “You do have a sigl, right?”

  “Yes . . .”

  “Is it some crappy one that doesn’t do anything but make light?”

  I gave her a look.

  “Wow,” Lucella said. “You really are starting from the bottom.”

  “Can you go outside for a second?”

  “Why?”

  Because my sigls are behind the skirting board, and I don’t want to show you where I hide them, I didn’t say. To be honest, I was starting to get the feeling that Lucella wouldn’t think my sigls were even worth stealing, but old habits die hard. “Please?”

  “Oh, all right,” Lucella said with a shrug. She got up and walked to the door. Hobbes was curled up in front of it, and Lucella poked him with her foot to make him move, then went out into the hallway, closing the door behind her.

  Hobbes gave me an unimpressed-sounding “mraaow,” then looked at his food bowl.

  “Later, okay?” I told him. I pulled out the skirting board, took out the box, reached inside for the two sigls . . . and hesitated.

  My two sigls had been made twelve months apart, and you could really tell the difference. The older sigl was the first one I’d ever made, and it showed—you had to push nearly twice as much essentia through it as the newer one, but it wasted so much of it that it was only half as bright. I paused, my hand hovering between the two. Should I show her my best, or hold back?

  I made my decision, took out the newer sigl in its plastic ring, put the box back in its cubbyhole, then replaced the skirting board and straightened up. “Come in,” I called.

  Lucella came back in, closing the door behind her, then looked at me and paused. “Oh.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “When a boy asks you to step out of the room and come back, you kind of expect something a bit more exciting.”

  I felt my cheeks heat up. “Um . . .”

  “Oh well.” Lucella took a step forward and looked at the sigl in my hand. “Is that a plastic ring?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where’d you get it, out of a Christmas cracker? Okay, okay, never mind. Light sigl, right? Let’s see it.”

  I slipped the ring onto my finger and channelled a thread of essentia. A pale blue glow sprang up.