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We all waited anxiously in the living room while Celeste took an extremely reluctant Castor upstairs. Hector went with them just in case Celeste got stuck again and needed guidance to get out of Castor’s mind.
‘Well,’ Aurora said, munching happily on leftover Bakewell tart, ‘this has turned out to be jolly exciting, hasn’t it?’
I was delighted to see she’d regained her appetite. For a while there, I’d feared we’d lost the old Aurora. Grief and anger had overwhelmed her, understandably, but she was getting more like her old self every day. I’d missed her. I was determined that, somehow, we’d find out who’d betrayed her father and me, and we’d make them pay.
Keely was still obsessing over the tarot cards.
‘If Castor knows the whereabouts of the witch’s key,’ she said, ‘we could find it before Wulfram gets back. And if we can just work out what Lyrica means by these tarot clues we could also find the fae key. Imagine how relieved and happy he’d be when he got home.’
I knew she was obsessing because she was worried about Wulfram and missing him. I understood that. I was worried about him and missing him, too. I couldn’t even let myself think about Romy, because the grief at losing her for good was all too real. I’d had her in my life for such a short time. It must be heartbreaking for Keely and Harley. No wonder Keely needed to focus on something else.
Thoughts, naturally, turned to what the three of them might be doing in 1673.
‘Do you think the island’s returned yet?’ Sky pondered. ‘They’re going to be jolly stuck until it does.’
‘It better have,’ Star said. ‘We want them home before Yule.’
‘But we don’t know for sure when the island returned,’ Killian said glumly. ‘And I’ve asked the folks back home if they can remember when the Seelie Court meeting took place, but they can’t. They know the year, and they know it was winter, but that’s it. We don’t follow your calendar. Days are meaningless to us, as are all these festivals you celebrate—Yule and Christmas and the like. So, given that it was winter and in 1673, we only can say for sure that it’s some time in December. It might be the very last day of the month for all we know.’
‘Don’t say that!’ Keely gasped. ‘I need Wulfram home before Christmas. It would be awful without him.’
‘He’ll be home,’ Harley said comfortingly. ‘I’m sure of it. And I’m sure he’s happily ensconced on the island right now, having supper with the Tremaynes in whatever version of this house existed back then.’
We all looked around, as if we’d see the shadows of the past among us somehow. It was beyond weird to think that, somewhere in time, the Tremaynes might be sitting with Wulfram, Romy and Blaise in this very spot.
‘Do you think Castor does know anything?’ Mrs Greenwood asked wistfully. ‘I feel a bit mean, bullying him into letting Celeste walk through his mind. I’m not sure I’d fancy it, if I’m being honest. Some things should remain private, after all.’
‘Celeste’s a good person, Nan,’ Benedict reassured her. ‘She’ll be discreet and as careful as she can be. Don’t worry.’
‘And if Castor hasn’t got that memory,’ Star said, ‘what do we do then? We’re running out of options.’
‘Someone must know where the keys are,’ Keely said desperately. ‘They can’t just have vanished off the face of the earth. I mean, Arthur entrusted one each to the fae and the witches. How could they have been so careless as to lose them? If we do find them, I’ll never let them out of my sight, and I’ll make sure their whereabouts are passed to someone responsible.’
‘Easy to say,’ Emrick said with a wry smile. ‘Those keys were given in the sixth century, Keely. That’s a long time to keep something safe.’
‘Evidently,’ she said coldly. ‘Useless idiots. Fancy letting them be lost! Now look at all the work we’re going to have to do to find them.’
‘Let’s just hope no one else has beaten us to it,’ Jethro said glumly.
‘Jethro!’ Sky cried. ‘Don’t even think that, let alone say it!’
We all fell silent as we heard footsteps on the stairs. A shaky looking Celeste entered the living room, helped by Hector who had his arms around her, supporting her.
‘Any of that Bakewell tart left, Mrs Greenwood?’ he asked. ‘She needs something to eat, fast.’
Unfortunately, Aurora had just stuffed the last piece into her mouth, but Ewella had baked that afternoon and hurriedly brought in a chocolate cake, which not only satisfied Celeste but made Aurora’s eyes light up like Christmas trees.
‘Where’s Castor?’ Mrs Greenwood asked anxiously.
‘He’s asleep,’ Hector said. ‘Don’t worry, he’s fine. He’s just resting. Evidently, having your memories walked around in takes it out of you.’
‘How are you feeling, darling?’ Iliana asked, leaning towards Celeste.
Celeste was busy eating chocolate cake, but she nodded and put her thumb up to indicate she was okay. We all let her eat in peace, even though we were bursting with impatience, and Ewella made us all cups of hot chocolate while we waited, which we were very grateful for.
At last, Celeste was ready to talk.
‘Okay,’ she said, leaning back in her chair. ‘So I was right. Titus evidently did pass the story on to his son, and that was handed down through the generations. It’s quite a tale. The witch’s key—the Golden Chalice Key—ended up in the possession of the abbots of Glastonbury Monastery. I don’t know how that happened, or who had it before they did unfortunately. It was discovered when the two bodies of “Arthur” and “Guinevere” were recovered. The key was removed, and the bodies reburied. The secret stayed with the abbots through the years, but rumours circulated that it was in their keeping. The dissolution of the monasteries was the perfect excuse for the authorities to try to extract the information from Abbot Richard Whiting, but he was exceptionally brave. He refused to disclose its whereabouts and that’s why his execution was so brutal and so public. It was like a warning to whoever else knew where the key was hidden. Before he was arrested, knowing what would happen to him, he entrusted the key to his childhood friend, Sir John St Clair, great great grandfather of Blaise and Bevil. Their grandfather, Sir Edward, passed it to his youngest son, Titus.’
