Camille started to raise the gun, but Olympe was there first. She reached out and touched the skin at the guard’s neck. Blue sparks covered her hand, jumping along her fingers, lighting up the cell and the guard’s startled face. He shook, vibrating like a tuning fork as Olympe pressed her palm flat against his skin. Her nails were long and ragged, like claws. The sparks crackled from Olympe’s mottled skin to the guard. A smell of meat burning filled the room.

Camille stilled in fascination and horror. She’d seen something like this before. Once, as a young girl, her parents had taken her to a scientific display. On the stage, a man had strung up a boy over the boards. He was swaddled in cloths and hung from pink silk cords. The scientist had applied a large sulphur globe to his feet, cranking it round so it spun against his bare soles. The boy had reached out his hand and she’d watched in amazement as first feathers, then pages of a book had risen to his fingertips. A volunteer from the audience had been called for, and her mother had nudged her up to the front. The scientist had her stand on a stool and then all the lights had been dimmed. Camille had stretched her hand towards the boy’s nose as instructed. A loud crack made the crowd gasp, and a spark flew towards her outstretched hand.

Just like the sparks now burning dark spots into the guard’s skin.

‘That’s enough.’ Camille’s voice was a whisper.

Olympe shuddered and snatched back her hand. The guard collapsed. Slowly, Camille hooked her gun into her belt. Then she picked up the glove and gave it back to Olympe.

She ran a hand through her hair to hide her shaking fingers. For the first time in a very long while, Camille felt out of her depth. The world that she knew was gone. Extinguished in a flash, just like the life had died in the guard’s eyes. This was so much more than the duc lying to her about the details. A yawning, unknown expanse opened beneath her, and she felt as though she was on a narrow beam attempting to cross the chasm.

5

Underneath the Prison

‘What? Where are all the people?’ yelped Al.

Ada pushed him into the room. ‘Quick!’

The soldiers were close behind them. The boys flung themselves against the door and Ada kneeled, sliding her pins into the lock again. It was easier this time, only a few seconds’ work to lock the door as the soldiers hammered into it.

She slumped to the floor, heart racing.

Al had walked further into the room, stopping next to a stack of barrels.

‘Where are we?’