The Immortal Heights by Sherry Thomas

Italy he had underestimated the amount of clothes he needed—got on a train, and let himself be transported by nonmage technology, clickety-clacking the remaining distance to Paris under a gray, rainy sky.
    Two hours later he exited Gare de l’Est in Paris and hired a hansom cab to take him to the sixteenth arrondissement. Streetlights flickered to life along the broad boulevards of the city. He stayed in the hansom until traffic degenerated into a logjam that did not budge in any direction, then got out and walked the rest of the way, shivering despite the coat.
    The concierge at the apartment building where Fairfax’s guardian lived smiled as she saw him. “Bonsoir, monsieur.”
    He had used the apartment earlier as an on-site laboratory, and had given her the impression that he was a friend of the family. He nodded. “ Bonsoir, madame . Is Monsieur Franklin at home?”
    â€œYes, monsieur . Such a lovely gentleman. He will be glad to see you, monsieur .”
    Horatio Haywood was indeed overjoyed as he opened the door. But his smile wavered when he realized that Titus had come alone.
    â€œShe is fine,” Titus said quickly. “May I come in?”
    â€œYes, of course. Do please forgive me, Your Highness.”
    He was shown to the salle de séjour , with its enormous paintings of nonmages frolicking in the countryside. Haywood ran to thekitchen and came back with a tea service and plates of puff pastry with savory fillings.
    The man would probably have gone to the kitchen again to fetch more things, but Titus bade him take a seat and recounted what had happened since they were all last in a room together: the real story behind Wintervale’s spectacular display of elemental power, their hasty departure from Eton, and their few but eventful days in the Sahara Desert.
    â€œWhen I left earlier today she was safe and well, or at least as well as could be under the circumstances. And I trust that our friend is looking after her to the utmost of his considerable ability—although at any given moment she could be looking after him, for all we know. She is very good at keeping her friends alive and in one piece.”
    â€œFortune shield me,” murmured Haywood. “I was worried—I thought she would have come to see me again, but I never anticipated that so much could have happened.”
    They were quiet for some time. “So you remember everything now?” asked Titus.
    The older man nodded slowly. “Yes, sire.”
    He would have been able to guess at Lady Callista’s betrayal, judging by what they had learned the day they found him at Claridge’s Hotel in London. But to be engulfed by a tide of memories, to remember the fervor of love that had driven him to lie, cheat, and steal for her only to be abandoned so completely—Titus could not imagine his anguish.
    His regrets.
    â€œI would like to ask you a question, if I may.”
    â€œCertainly, sire.”
    â€œI can piece together most of the story, even if the details are somewhat sketchy. But one part puzzles me. What is Commander Rainstone’s role in all this?”
    Commander Rainstone was the crown’s chief security adviser. She had also, at one point, served under the late Princess Ariadne, Titus’s mother.
    â€œYou said she introduced you to Lady Callista,” Titus went on. “I understand Commander Rainstone comes from a humble background. How did she and Lady Callista become friends?”
    â€œOh,” said Haywood, taken aback. “You didn’t know, sire? Commander Rainstone and Lady Callista are half sisters.”
    Iolanthe and Kashkari did not risk flying into Cairo, which had its share of mage Exiles. And where there was a substantial gathering of mage Exiles, there were informants and agents of Atlantis.
    Nor did Kashkari want them to walk in each carrying a carpet. They had covered the distance from Luxor to Cairo on travel carpets, but they