The Heart of the Crown was a white chamber so large that its far wall was lost in haze.
The floor was polished stone, pale as milk, and above the centre of it the Crown itself hung in the air, full-sized at last—a ring of seven tall spires as high as a house, turning slowly, burning with a light that beat in time with the Shard on my chest. Around the curve of the wall, tall and translucent, stood a column of names. Every few seconds one of them changed.
Two people were already there.
Lucifer stood a little way from the Crown with his longsword sheathed at his hip and his hands clasped behind his back, looking up at it. His Shard burned white. He didn't turn when I came in. He'd heard me. He simply didn't need to look.
Jack Blazespout was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, one knee drawn up, as if he were waiting for a train.
