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November 3, 1815

Mrs. Frankel, the short, sturdy, housekeeper for the Order office, with mounds of red curls peeking from under her mobcap, greeted her at the front door. Mrs. Frankel was a force of nature. A gale on two feet that, in some impossible feat of nature, left order rather than chaos in her wake. Exactly the presence the still-chaotic office needed since its hurried relocation from the back room of Mr. Allenden’s shop. “Here for your correspondence, Lady Wentworth?”

“Yes.” Anne peeked around Mrs. Frankel. The front room, the largest in the cottage, teemed with boxes, trunks, and stacks of ledgers and journals, obscuring the mismatched furniture within. “Good heavens, what has happened here?”

“Would you like to take a seat and have a bite while I tell you about it? I’m afraid it is quite the story. The kind that will probably leave you all prickly and irritated.” Mrs. Frankel removed a pile of books from a worn upholstered chair and placed them on another nearby stack. She trundled a dozen steps to a plain-fronted wooden cabinet on the far side of the room, shoved a wooden box aside just enough that she could open the door and remove the familiar painted tin. She pried off the lid and carried it to Anne.

Clear cakes, marzipan, barley sugar candies, and Jordan almonds filled the tin. “It looks like you have recently refilled it.” Anne took a clear cake and a cube of marzipan. On second thought, an extra clear cake might be necessary to maintain her composure if the story was as Mrs. Frankel described. She took a second one.

Mrs. Frankel nodded vigorously. “One must find comfort where one can, eh?” She scooped out several sugar-coated almonds, covered the tin, and made room on a nearby wooden chair. She plumped the ragged cushion and sat down.

“What storm blew all this in?” Anne asked.

“You’re right there, quite the storm it was.” Mrs. Frankel popped an almond into her mouth and stared out the window. “Were you aware that the Blue Order office in Lyme was once housed in a proper townhouse with access to the dragon tunnels?”

Anne shook away the prickles dancing along the back of her neck and shoulders. “I had no idea. Wentworth never mentioned that. At least I do not think he did. He resented the office Mr. Allenden maintained, but I never thought to ask him more about it.”

“It was quite the tragedy, to be sure. There aren’t many who want to speak of it even now.” Mrs. Frankel pursed her lips into a peculiar frown. It seemed she did not want to discuss it either.

“What happened?”

“In short, and mentioning no names in particular, it seems that, unbeknownst to the Order office managing the facility, a visiting Keeper who was using the guest rooms had planned a tryst with another member there. Amid their entertainments a candelabra was knocked over and a terrible fire ensued. The building was heavily damaged and more than one death was attributed to the blaze.” Mrs. Frankel stared out the window, purposefully not meeting Anne’s gaze.

“Were you keeping house for the Order office then?”

“I was. Barely got meself and Mist out in time. She still has scars along her belly where she slithered over burning furniture to wake me. I sleep like the dead, you know, and it nearly killed me.”

“She is a brave and loyal Friend. No wonder Balen thinks so highly of her.”

Mrs. Frankel caught Anne’s eye for a moment, then looked away again. “I hated moving it all to Mr. Allenden’s shop. His wife hated snakes and could never accept Mist as anything but a snake. She was terrible to Mist.”

“I am sorry, I wish we had known.”

“Well, it is done and over now. Our little sorrows are not the point, though. You see, there was a fairly large cluster of wryms who were given leave to use a broken-down stone shed in the back garden of the townhouse as a lair. Some generations ago, they did a favor for the Lyme magistrate and that was how he repaid the favor. In the chaos after the fire, it seems the wyrms took it upon themselves to gather what was left of the Order documents and take them underground, into the tunnels to protect them.”

“How extraordinary.” Anne nibbled the corner of her clear cake—she needed a moment to compose her thoughts. Tart apple, with a crunchy crust of sugar on the top. “It seems almost too much to believe of wyrms.”

“Indeed, it does. I would not have believed it myself but for…”

“But for what?”

“Does Mr. Wynn have to know?”

Anne winced. Skirting Blue Order protocols was not something Mr. Wynn tolerated. “Whatever you tell me, I will protect you and Mist. He can be a bit … unreasonably particular.” And that was putting it incredibly kindly. Even Balen found him nigh on intolerable at times.

“I trust your discretion, Lady Wentworth.” Mrs. Frankel sighed, chewing her bottom lip. “I suppose it will all come out one way or another. As soon as we got set up here, boxes and bundles began appearing on the back doorstep. Slowly at first, but now so quick that Cypher and Jasper can’t keep up.”

“Appearing?”

“Yes. In the dark of night, they are delivered, with little trace of who brought them.”

“And Mr. Wynn did not think to tell me?” Anne nearly dropped her marzipan.

“I once suggested he should, but he said it was not in the jurisdiction of the Special Liaison.”

“I see he and I are of different opinions on the matter. I will discuss it with him. Soon.” And since Kellynch was the ranking dragon of the region, her opinion would carry a great deal of weight. But no need to involve Mrs. Frankel in those matters. “How much is left to transfer from the dragon tunnels?”

“Mist has met with the wyrms several times and the situation is a bit complicated.”

“Dragons are always complicated. What manner of complications are we talking about?” Anne took another bit of clear cake. Perhaps that would settle her increasingly uncertain stomach.

What kind of complications is Anne going to find? Tell me in the comments then read the book to see if you’re right!