of Martha, Charlie and Kedgeree to force them open. All the guest suites and most of the staff quarters were cold and dark now. Morrigan’s bedroom was barely holding on; she’d had to relight her fireplace at least a dozen times that day, and the talon-foot bathtub, which usually filled to precisely the right depth before turning off its own taps, had overflowed and flooded the bathroom. She was most worried about her octopus armchair. It had barely twitched a tentacle for days.
But while most of the Deucalion had gone into hibernation, some of it had entered a kind of hyper-productive turbo-drive. The courtyard orchard off the south wing grew so wild, so quickly, that it was no longer an orchard so much as an edible jungle, with an autumn harvest at least seven times its usual size.
The lobby, too, was more alive than ever. It was transforming every couple of hours now, dressing with gay abandon for non-existent events Frank hadn’t planned. Mood lighting and cool jazz for a fancy cocktail party at six in the morning. Then a birthday party for no one, with so many helium balloons it was impossible to move (Fenestra gleefully sharpened her claws and took care of the whole lot by lunchtime).
By late afternoon it had transitioned into a grand, glamorous wedding. Dame Chanda thought it was an awful shame to waste the thousands of tapered white candles, elaborate floral arrangements and confetti-strewn aisle. She kept telling Martha and Charlie that impromptu nuptials would be terribly romantic and just the thing to cheer everyone up, but they stubbornly refused to take the hint.
With each new transformation, Frank and Kedgeree tried to gently talk the Deucalion down from whatever strange precipice it was on, reminding it that it was a time to rest and recharge, and things would be up and running again soon enough. But the Deucalion wouldn’t listen, and when the white wedding transitioned to a pool party – complete with a waterslide where the spiral staircase used to be – they decided it would be best to just go with it.
‘Ah, the poor wee lass,’ sighed Kedgeree, dressed in goggles and pink tartan swimming trunks, as he surveyed the very wet lobby from the end of a diving board that was once the concierge desk. ‘All dressed up and no party to throw.’
It wasn’t until the next morning that Morrigan worked up the nerve to knock on Jupiter’s study door. She’d braced herself for bad news, and was therefore shocked to see his satisfied expression as he laid copies of Nevermoor’s three major newspapers across the desk for her to see:
CURE? NO THANK YOU, SAYS PM
NOT JUST A HOLLOW OFFER?
Leaked Wintersea Letter Shows Steed Reluctant To Save Lives
PLEASE PRIME MINISTER, JUST SAY YES
‘Page two,’ said Jupiter, tapping the Sentinel.
Morrigan flipped the front page to see the word REVEALED! in huge red letters, above an image of a handwritten letter bearing what must have been Wintersea’s presidential seal: a butterfly silhouette overlaid with an ornate W. A glimpse inside the Morning Post and the Looking Glass showed they’d all printed the same letter.
Morrigan cleared her throat and began to read aloud.
‘Dear Prime Minister,
Thank you for meeting with me today. I regret that we were unable to come to an agreement, but I fear the citizens of the “Free State” you serve may come to regret your reticence much more deeply.
Once again, I wish to express my solidarity and sympathy for the challenge you are facing, both as a fellow head of state and a human being. The danger from this disease you call the “Hollowpox” is urgent; the devastation it leaves in its wake seems impossible to overcome. I speak from experience.
However, as I told you this morning, it is possible to overcome it.
We lost a great many lives before one of our citizens found a way to end this terrible disease and shared it with the entire Republic. We are now free from the horror of this illness – Wunimals and humans alike. I wish to pass on this act of generosity to you and your people. We will gladly give you the cure.
All I ask of you in return is hope.
The hope that our two nations might one day join hands across this great divide between us. That you and I – two modern, progressive leaders with an eye to our people’s future prosperity and security – might start a conversation that could lead to the healing of Ages-old wounds.
We