was a Wundersmith.
That’s why she ought to be able to ride the Gossamer Line without trouble. It was a Wundrous Act, and she was a Wundersmith. It didn’t matter that she had no idea what she was doing. Wunder knew what it was doing.
So why wouldn’t her hands stop shaking?
I should have told someone, Morrigan thought, suddenly gripped by fear. I should have told Hawthorne where I was going, or Cadence. I should have told Jupiter!
But it was a hollow thought. She knew she never would have told them. They would only have tried to stop her.
Taking a deep breath, she hung her oilskin umbrella on the platform railing. It would be her anchor – a precious personal object left purposefully behind with her body, ready to tug her back into the physical realm when she was ready.
Before her last nerve could abandon her, Morrigan closed her eyes, stepped up to the yellow line, and waited for the whistle of the Gossamer train.
The first time she’d travelled this way, Jupiter had made her close her eyes, and she could understand why. It felt like travelling through a dream, while standing on a cloud made solid. But the cloud was bright as diamonds, golden-white as Wunder. And the dream was an entire universe, wild and confusing, whizzing by at high speed. It was a rush of blood to the head, so blindingly brilliant it was hard to think. And Morrigan needed to think. She covered her eyes.
The problem was … she didn’t know where to go. Where was Ezra Squall? She knew the name of his company – Squall Industries – but where in the Wintersea Republic was it? Would he even be there if she found it?
As it turned out, none of that mattered. The Gossamer Line didn’t need a map. It didn’t need to be coerced or convinced to go anywhere. The Wundrous golden-white train seemed to read her thoughts the instant she had them, and within moments it had arrived at its destination.
Morrigan stepped down from the train carriage and found herself inside a large wood-panelled room. It reminded her of some place she’d been before. The furnishings were grander and darker, the décor much statelier, and altogether it was much less of a pigsty … but it made her think of the Angel Israfel’s dressing room at the Old Delphian Music Hall. There was a large wardrobe, and an elegant sofa, and a dressing table laid out with all sorts of things. Brushes and bottles of greasepaint and little glass trinket trays.
There was a double door made of dark wood, with an unusual set of silver handles that interlocked to form a large, ornate W.
Was she back at Wunsoc?
She mustn’t have done it right.
Morrigan sighed – and had just closed her eyes to picture her brolly and call the train back – when the double doors opened and a woman entered the room, stopped, and looked at her.
It was strange. The first time Morrigan had travelled on the Gossamer, she’d been invisible to everyone at Crow Manor. Everyone except her grandmother because, as Jupiter had explained, she’d wanted Ornella Crow to see her.
Surely, then, the woman standing in front of her wearing a grand white wig and black robes should not be able to see Morrigan, because in this moment Morrigan most assuredly did not want to be seen.
And yet … the woman was definitely looking at her.
Morrigan breathed in sharply.
She knew precisely who this was. Her brain rushed to make connections, one after the other, click-click-click … and suddenly she also knew where she was. She’d never seen the place in person before, but she’d heard about it her whole life.
The W on the door didn’t stand for Wundrous.
It stood for Wintersea.
She was inside the Chancery, in the heart of Ylvastad, the capital city of the Wintersea Republic.
The Gossamer Line must have misread her intention. Or maybe – ugh, she could have smacked herself in the forehead – maybe when she’d wondered ‘where in the Wintersea Republic’ Squall was, it had simply responded in the most efficient way possible by taking her to the heart of the Republic.
Morrigan felt a little of her courage seep away. She wasn’t prepared for this.
The woman was still watching her expectantly, and she absolutely could not think what the proper thing was to do … so she bobbed an awkward half-curtsy, held up her hand in a sort-of wave and mumbled, ‘Hello … er, ma’am.’
President Wintersea blinked back at her.
She