“Except yourself.”
“I know I can survive out there. I plan to find the syndicate, and I’d stand a much better chance if I have your help.”
“Domino ordered us to wait for contact.”
“They won’t know,” I said. “I’d like us to work together. Isn’t that what we’ve always done best?”
He deliberated for some time. If he called my bluff, I would have to accept defeat for the time being. It would be madness to strike out on my own while I was this physically weak.
“I gave you my word that I would stay with you,” he said at last. I looked up. “As you say, we have accomplished a great deal together. Let us see what comes of this.” He picked up the wine. “How shall we find the syndicate?”
My face broke into a smile.
“Well,” I said, standing, “how the tables have turned. Time for me to be your mentor.”
I turned down the lights and opened the shutters. Streetlamps shone along the quay, their lilac glow rippling on the Seine.
“First, you need to learn to see the underworld,” I told him. Arcturus came to stand beside me. “Think of it as a chain. You look for the people at one end, and they’ll lead you all the way up to the other.” I nodded to the street. “Tell me what you see.”
“Denizens.”
“Look harder. Look for outliers.” I pointed out a boy in a peaked cap. “What’s he doing?”
“Waiting for a guardian, perhaps.” When the child blended into the crowd, Arcturus narrowed his eyes. “No. A thief.”
“Good. His mark is the dark-haired woman in the pencil skirt, third in line at the coffee stand.” I watched her. “Not paying attention to her handbag.”
The bag was dusty pink silk, tempting as a cake in a window. The pickpocket snuck up to the owner, who was deep in conversation with the man beside her. With a deft cut, the boy liberated the bag from its strap and melted back into the crowd, leaving his mark none the wiser.
“There.” I had to grin at his nerve. “He’ll be taking that to the kidsman in charge of his gang. Follow him, and we’d get to the next link in the chain and bribe our way up.” I closed the shutters and sat on the sill. “That’s one way.”
“And the other?”
“We go straight to the top. That might be our only option, since neither of us has two pennies to rub together for bribes.”
“Do we not?”
“You’ve got a big pile of money lying around somewhere, have you?”
Arcturus rose and disappeared into his room. When he returned, he placed a brick-sized wad of banknotes on the table.
“You . . . do indeed have a big pile of money lying around somewhere,” I observed.
“The Ranthen would never have sent me abroad without my fair share of our assets.”
Slowly, I leafed through the crisp notes. “Arcturus,” I breathed. “What is this, ten grand?”
“Twelve. It is yours to use as you think best.”
“You’re giving me twelve thousand pounds. Just like that.” I looked between him and the notes. “Have I ever mentioned how deeply I treasure our friendship?”
“Hm. Call it another birthday gift.” He sat. “Perhaps we should begin our search in the Court of Miracles.”
I knew of it. Jaxon had spoken often and fondly of the slums where the outcasts of Paris met.
“All right.” I laid the money down with appropriate reverence. “Where?”
“The largest of the slum districts is north of the river. Or was,” he said, “when I last visited Paris.”
“And we can just walk in.” I was skeptical. “There’s no watchword, no need for someone to vouch for us?”
“I have never tried to enter it myself.”
“Right.” I tapped my fingers on the table. “How long to get there on foot?”
“Perhaps half an hour.”
“All right. We’ll go in the morning, to avoid the night Vigiles. And we’ll be careful,” I added. “I promise.”
“I still do not like this idea, Paige. I wish to make that known.”
“Noted.” I shot him a winning smile. “But I think we’ll make a decent syndie of you yet, Arcturus Mesarthim.”
****
The sky was cloudless in the morning. Sunlight striped the floors with gold.
Exhilaration crushed my hurts. I danced along to the record player. I wolfed some porridge with apple butter, then prepared for the Court of Miracles.
I was heading into a citadel I had dreamed of seeing since I was a child. Anticipation thrummed in every limb. For the first time in weeks, I was a live wire, raring to run.
The wardrobe was a room of its own. Domino agents must have stayed here in the past and needed a range of disguises. I chose a white blouse and a charcoal sweater, which I tucked into high-waisted trousers, and button boots with low heels. Smoked lenses hid some of my face. A peaked cap would hide a little more. I straightened my hair, scalding my neck and one hand in the process—I debated asking Arcturus to do the back for me—before I swung a green coat onto my shoulders and a scarf around my neck. I took the knife from under my pillow, wrapped it, and slipped it into my pocket.
On my way downstairs, I glanced at a mirror. My sleek auburn hair was off-putting.
Arcturus was in the hall, dressed from head to toe in black, as usual. His new overcoat suited him.
“Good morning.” He was pulling on his gloves. “I trust you slept well.”
“I did.” I turned on the spot. “Est-ce-que j’ai l’air suffisamment française?”
“Très française, petite rêveuse.”
His pronunciation was impeccable. “You’ve a cut of the money?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Watch out for pickpockets.” I belted my coat and drew on my own gloves. “We shouldn’t walk together. You go first. If the Vigiles get wind of us, we call it off, lose them, and meet here later.”
“Very well.” Arcturus took me in. “Are you certain you are ready for this?”
“Absolutely.”
In truth, my palms were slick. Before my capture, I had always been confident that if a Vigile spied me, I could climb and fight my way out of danger.
As soon as I opened the door, a breeze whipped my hair across my eyes. Arcturus strode out first. I checked no one was looking before I pulled on my cap and went after him.
My boots crunched into an ankle-deep snowbank. Once the door was locked, I walked up the four steps to the street and stepped out of the shadow of the safe house.
Paris roared its welcome.
The noise and light were overwhelming. At eight in the morning, cars and people thronged the Quai des Grands Augustins. A vintage moto rattled past, close enough for me to smell its exhaust. I blinked and looked east, to the twin bell towers of the Grande Salle de Paris. A place of worship in the monarch days, it was now used for some of the most significant events and ceremonies in France. I had to stop myself from staring at it. Beyond it lay two more natural islands of Paris—the Île aux Vaches, where many wealthy officials lived, and the Île Louviers, home to some of the most famous Parisian markets and arcades.