To Deal with Kings (Thieves & Kings #2)
Prologue
Moonlight fell in shattered increments across the floor of the Crystal Palace.
The exhibits were dark, echoes of the day’s excitement and chatter having long since faded into obscurity.
The bustle of innumerable patrons had given way to stillness; even the steam-powered machines had ground to a halt.
The only noise came from the dull, intermittent thud of polished black boots as the coppers made their rounds.
There was more security than originally planned.
The Exhibition had closed early that day—opening day—giving time for shards of glass to be swept away and the aleuite smoke to dissipate.
The queen and prince consort had been less than pleased to receive the news: A priceless artifact, stolen from right under the commission’s noses during broad daylight.
The ire of George Waterhouse, the Irish jeweler who’d supplied the necklace that now was missing.
Most infuriating and disturbing of all, however, was what they knew about the thief.
The means by which they had pulled off their daring heist.
Alchemology. A collision of magic and science that had proven impossible to understand—let alone regulate—and thus had been outlawed in Europe for the better part of the century.
Alchemologists didn’t often rear their heads amid polite society, thus sparing most from giving the illegal study much consideration, but England’s rulers knew enough to recognize the devilry when they saw it.
The Royal Commission for the Exhibition had been left humiliated and bewildered, every member with the same questions on their tongue: Who could possibly have managed to pull off such a feat?
How had they gotten in and out without anyone being the wiser?
Perhaps most curious of all, why had they taken a single item?
The necklace had been far from the only priceless piece in the Waterhouse exhibit, yet the rest of the jewelry remained untouched.
It was convenient, then, that these questions distracted commission members and police constables alike as they circled the unlocked display, paced the exterior of the building, and stood at attention beside the gaping hole where a panel of glass had yet to be replaced on the ground floor of the Crystal Palace.
They didn’t see that while one item might have been missing from the Exhibition, a new one had appeared. They wouldn’t know its function, nor that it had been carefully placed and meticulously designed. They couldn’t possibly understand that in due time, everything—everything—was about to change.
Not yet.
But they would.