There had to be some dark magic at play, something as insidious and powerful as Queen Rayn. Why else would Lyrani's train be delayed? She blinked as the announcer's airy voice faded out, leaving everyone on platform 3 to sink into chaos.

A dizzying dread pressed in around Lyrani. She clutched at the edge of her wooden seat to steady herself.

She had to be dreaming. If anything, this had to be a nightmare, conjured from the darkest depths of the Spirit Realm as punishment for the most atrocious crimes, but when Lyrani exchanged glances with the confused passengers around her, she realised this was really happening.

Lyrani's briefing was in less than two hours, and her train was delayed indefinitely. If she reached Yidelhorn later than she had planned, she'd be escorted to Vlitavia later as well. Lord Dundor wouldn't be impressed with her tardiness, but that was the least of her problems. Nash's life was at stake, and Lyrani was stuck here until her plans realigned themselves.

Lyrani fumbled in her backpack for her call crystal. The least she could do was call Nash to tell him about the unintentional change in plans. She tapped the gleaming surface of the deep blue stone.

"Nash Astor," she murmured, but the crystal's surface remained still and dark, the air above it mockingly empty of the one face she would give anything to see.

Her stomach twisted. The last time she'd had this inexplicable disconnection of her call crystal, Queen Rayn had been lurking nearby, obstructing Lyrani's investigation in every way her spectral form could.

She was gone, banished to the Spirit Realm and probably long wilted in the floral form she had assumed when she returned to the living, but any other enemy could step in to take her place. Lyrani had plenty of those, many who were dead, many she wouldn't trust to remain so.

A few seats down the row from where Lyrani sat, a goblin with a monocle and thinning white hair tutted. "I have been taking the train for two hundred years now, and never has it experienced technical difficulties." He turned to the banshee beside him, a slender figure in a tattered, discoloured dress with wild, tangled hair and a sallow face less wrinkled than the goblin's even though she must be far older than him. "You know, back in my day—"

The fairy behind the goblin let out a shrill shriek. "It's my sister's wedding! She's going to kill me if I'm late or—even worse—don't show. She has been planning the perfect day for nearly a year." They rested their round face in their hands. "And now I'm going to ruin it!" they wailed.

Lyrani stood. She couldn't listen to the delayed passengers whining about their misfortunes for however long it took to repair the train. Her nerves had already frayed nearly to nothing. The conversation with Morloy had done little to set her at ease. In fact, it had done the exact opposite.

She slung her rucksack across her shoulders. She needed something sweet to soak some sense into her. Her roving eyes fell on a charming storefront beneath a white and grey decorative striped awning.

Lyrani hadn't set foot in Carpe Diem since the agent who introduced her to the café was killed during a mission, but that had been over a year ago. Perhaps it was time to confront that part of Lyrani's past that she kept avoiding.

She smoothed her tunic and started towards the café, leaving the worried rumblings of her fellow passengers behind her. That did little to silence her own concerns.

Technical difficulties, the announcer had claimed, but Lyrani wasn't convinced. The trains were old, with battered cars and fraying seats. A malfunction wasn't impossible, but to Lyrani, it felt like something more. Like an omen of an ill-fated mission.

Or perhaps some unseen force was keeping Lyrani from Vlitavia longer than she needed to be. In a realm bruised by murder—some by her hand—restless spirits muddling with events in ways that seemed inexplicable to the living seemed as probable as a train breaking down due to a purely mechanical reason.

She stepped over the threshold of Carpe Diem, crossing over a mat with golden calligraphy welcoming her to the café. She took a deep breath as the fragrance of freshly baked croissants and muffins embraced her. The elf behind the counter smiled as she put a slice of blueberry pie into a box and slid it over to a spectacled human with a serious face. He pressed some coins into her hand.

The elf counted them, dropped them into the cash register, and turned to Lyrani with a polite smile. "What can I get you?"

"Just one chamomile tea with strawberry essence." Lyrani glanced over at platform 3 to see that the fairy was now sobbing into their hands, and the goblin was on his feet, giving a passionate speech to the banshee, who was studying her nail with disinterest.

She'd rather be here, ordering a tea whose taste she hadn't acquired by choice, than there among them, drifting along the same unruly currents of uncertainty.

"Sure." The elf called Lyrani's order back into the kitchen and turned to the next customer in the queue with her smile once again plastered across her face.

Five minutes later, the elf handed Lyrani a steaming cup. Lyrani paid, took two spoons of sugar from the little jar beside the glass box displaying an array of colourful doughnuts adorned with rose petals and claimed a table for two near the edge of the café, setting her backpack at her feet.

Perhaps this was the table she had sat at with Trelle all those months ago. She didn't remember. There was a lot she didn't remember about that mission and a lot she wouldn't forget.

She would never forget how infuriatingly condescending Trelle had been, how frustratingly rigid in her adherence to the plan, but she would always remember that she had shown her gentle side the night she kept Lyrani company after her first encounter with a ghost. She would always remember how the other agent's confidence spilt over into her psyche and turned her self-doubt into self-belief.

Lyrani took a cautious sip of her hot tea. It warmed her right down to her toes. She savoured the flavours of the earthy chamomile mingling with the vibrant strawberry. It wasn't her favourite tea, but it was the toast Agent Trelle Lore would expect and deserve.

Lyrani raised her cup of tea to no one in particular. She didn't care if she looked crazy to any onlookers. She knew that Trelle was with her in spirit if not in person. She wasn't sure if it was her wishful thinking or her enigmatic sixth sense speaking. Even worse, she wasn't sure which she wished it was.

She shivered as a cool breeze slipped under her collar, taking another sip of tea to ward away the goosebumps rising over her skin.

It felt familiar somehow, transporting Lyrani back to over a year ago when she had sat in this very café drinking the same tea.

She would never forget the dread she had felt upon accepting the Vlitavia mission. It wasn't much different from that sinking feeling in her stomach now. That mission had been a success but at the cost of an agent's life and Lyrani's peace of mind. She shook her head. She didn't want to think about what this mission might take from her. She had too much to lose.

I don't think there's any better duo than the two of us to handle this.

This whisper from the past floated into Lyrani's ear, taking her by surprise. Trelle's voice sounded as real as if she was sitting opposite Lyrani right now, drinking her tea and flashing that smile she knew could undo anyone in the realm except for Lyrani.

Lyrani lowered her eyes from the empty chair in front of her to the reflection of the afternoon sunlight shining through the skylight and onto the surface of her yellowish tea.

Trelle was gone, but Lyrani was half of one of the best teams in ECISI history. Surely that had to count for something.

Lyrani's fingers tightened around her cup. She gritted her teeth. She was only one-half of her and Trelle's team, but she was enough. She was not going to let her mind rattle her senseless before she had even gone to the mission briefing.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes, sealing herself into her inner world where it was dark and there was no clutter to detract from her important thoughts. She needed to approach this mission with a clear head.

Morloy had shared a terrifying glimpse into the state of the realm, but it needed Lyrani. So did Elvenland and Nash. To lose her composure now would be to fail them.

She was Lyrani Esch. She had assassinated fairy crime lords and goblins dealing in illicit substances that had been driving the realm into an unpredictable, murderous madness. She had defeated the spirit of a vicious, ruthless queen who had wanted nothing more than to destroy her. She would do everything she could to make this new, unknown mission a success.

Failure wasn't an option. Besides, Lyrani wasn't alone. She would have a partner or perhaps even a team—more eyes from ECISI who had the same goal in their sights—and the shadows were always on her side.

They reminded her of that now, stirring at her feet and caressing her legs as they rose around her.

"14:30 to Yidelhorn is now ready to board," echoed the dreamy voice on the loudspeaker.

Lyrani looked at her watch. It was 15:01, about time for her train to be on its way. With her tea in one hand and her rucksack in the other, she hurried to platform 3 while the goblin waddled to the front of the queue and the fairy dried their eyes.

The conductor stamped the ticket Lyrani held out to him without looking at her. She stepped through the doors, inhaling deeply.

The brownie cleaners had done a better job of disguising the tobacco scent that stained the compartment since the last time Lyrani had taken the train. She could barely detect it under the sweet and sour fragrance of the apple air freshener lingering around her.

Lyrani took a seat beside the window in the corner of the compartment so that she could see when they were approaching Yidelhorn, where the carriage to Vlitavia would await her. While the last passengers leaked into the train, she opened her package of cornflower pancakes and pinched off an edge. It was usually sweet with a homey taste, but today, Lyrani barely tasted it.

Her foot jiggled in nervous anticipation of another delay, but the announcement never came. Instead, the train wobbled. The passengers fell silent, tense until the train was on the move. They relaxed into their conversations, smiling with relief as Lyrani did. She helped herself to another pancake and sipped at her lukewarm tea, losing herself in their flavours and the countryside the train wound through for the whole hour of the ride.

***

As soon as the train stopped, the passengers gathered their belongings and flooded out the doors as though they had their own missions to rescue the realm. The queue to claim luggage would've slowed them down if they had. Fortunately, Lyrani had only the bag on her back to travel with.

Outside, the day was like a peach that had grown old and lost its colour. Lyrani looked down at her wristwatch and cursed. She was already late for her meeting. If only she was a human with the ability to teleport, but she was an elf who had to await her transport.

Among the trees ahead, Lyrani glimpsed a familiar black, boxy carriage edged in glittering silver and emblazoned with the House Astor crest of a willow tree set against a star. No sooner had she started towards it than an elf popped beside her, clad in a uniform that matched the coach.

"Lady Lyrani! How wonderful it is to see you again." He took her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles. He straightened, frowning as he scanned her. "Though I must say, I have never seen a lady in such attire."

Lyrani tugged at her dull blue tunic, self-conscious even though she shouldn't be. It made sense that the dark leggings and boots that she was so used to struck the other elf as strange.

The other elf had only seen her in glittering jewels and shimmering ball gowns, the clothing of the noblewoman she was whenever she visited Nash, not the secret agent his staff couldn't know she was.

"Even ladies must travel in comfort." The lie slid so easily off Lyrani's tongue, just another one of her many disguises.

"Ah, but of course. Forgive my presumption." The elf was familiar with his brown skin, bright smile, and long, greying, braided hair.

Lyrani had seen him once, if she remembered correctly, when she had accompanied Nash to the wedding of the pixie king and his groom, but she couldn't remember his name.

"It's no problem at all." Lyrani mustered up a smile for the elf even as her anxious eyes flitted down to her watch.

"Allow me." The elf took hold of the strap of Lyrani's bag, which was still slung from her shoulders.

"Thank you, but there's no need for that. I just need to get to Vlitavia Palace, if you don't mind." Lyrani's words came out sharper than she had meant them to, and she wished she had softened her tone before speaking.

The elf's mouth turned downward. He beckoned for Lyrani to follow him to the carriage, muttering about how in his day, it wasn't proper for a lady to carry her own baggage.

Lyrani couldn't resist a dry smile at that. There probably hadn't been many ladies who were also secret agents at the time he was thinking of. There weren't even many now.

Noble life couldn't co-exist with secret intelligence, at least not forever. One always won out in the years-long tug-of-war. Trelle's work had gotten her killed. Lyrani's mother had met the same fate.

Lyrani's smile faded. The stories she knew about women like her always ended the same way, but she would defy that ending the way she defied everything else that seemed inevitable. That was what Lyrani Esch did.

If the elf was offended by Lyrani turning down his help, he had recovered from it by the time they reached the carriage. He held out a hand to help her up into the coach and took his position at the reins with a smile but without a word.

Lyrani glanced up at the sparkling stars painted on the coach's ceiling. They would always remind her of Nash, of how the stars had watched over them while they had their first conversation under an endless night sky. She imagined he had been the one who requested that the carriages representing his palace were decorated in the elements of the realm that gave him the most comfort.

Lyrani had reclined into the black velvet seat and the expectation of a quick, quiet ride to Vlitavia Palace when the driver turned and grinned at her.

"How's your father, milady?" He turned back to the horse and spurred it into motion.

"He's well, thank you." Lyrani held onto her seat as a bump in the path tried to fling her from it.

The conversation continued in the same vein, with the carriage driver asking Lyrani all about her life in Irylen while they rolled through the forest forming Elvenland's capital together, past children clambering up trees and houses nestled among the leaves. Lyrani didn't remember the elf's name, but he somehow remembered all her friends. She didn't know whether to be touched by his interest or unsettled by his attention.

She settled for being relieved when the carriage rolled to a stop at the foot of the wide oak tree that formed the entrance to the palace enclosed within the circle of trunks.