Raphaella’s Thoughts It doesn’t matter how many times I smooth the tablecloth, it’s always ruined. Mother can’t stop herself from moving something on it. Lifting up the crystal ball and putting it back down, creasing, crumpling, every time.

Raquel Saldana dreaded the question “How are you?” more than any other phrase in common use. Whenever someone said it, it implied they couldn’t care less about how she actually felt. And she was uniquely sensitive to indifference. But that’s the way the world worked; people didn’t have time to give a damn about feelings other than their own.

17th July 1889 Adeline, I did not think I would be writing this letter, but the rumours have quieted, and there is much to be done here. In the years you have been gone, I have watched London fall at the feet of heretics. They sing their praises of a Golden Dawn, spreading lies and deceit, boasting of alchemy and magic. And with their song, their ranks are growing.

Her eyes flutter open, drinking in the exposed ceiling beams. A plush pillow rests behind her head, and a silk sheet envelops her body. ‘The guest room? Why am I…?’