A low wall blocked the gap between the refectory and the cloisters, with a door set into the stone. Guil stood in front of Camille to hide her as she used a judicious boot to the rotting wood to force it open. Then they both slipped into the quiet of the convent grounds.

It was peaceful like a graveyard. The formal gardens had run wild, grass and flowers spilling over the walkways that swallowed the sound of their footsteps. A sweep of the buildings showed no sign of squatters or anyone else who’d thought an empty convent could be a useful hiding place.

‘We move Olympe here as soon as possible. Tomorrow night, once it’s dark.’ Camille shoved her hands in her pockets, breathing easier.

‘Agreed.’

As they returned, she hesitated by the fogged-up window of a café, her face half in shadow from the oil lamp suspended over the street.

‘Can I ask you something?’

‘You know you always can.’

She folded her arms, sifting through the right words to use.

‘How do you know if you’re doing the right thing?’

‘Ah.’

Guil folded his arms to mirror her and moved to stand side by side.

‘Is this about Olympe?’

Camille snorted softly. ‘I wasn’t trying to be subtle.’

‘Indeed. You are worried your judgment in this matter is not clear?’

She sighed and rubbed a hand over her face. ‘Maybe it’s just because it’s been such a bloody long day, but right now it seems as clear as mud. I’m not deluded, am I? This whole thing is seriously not right. I knew the Revolutionaries were bastards, they sent my parents to the slaughter without blinking – but this? They welded that mask around her face, sewed her into her clothes as though she’s not even human. It’s sick.’

‘I doubt the Royalists have much better intentions for her welfare.’

‘I suppose not, or why would they have lied about the job?’

The café door opened and a clamour of voices and music and light poured out. Two drunken students lurched off and the door closed again.

‘What if we’re making a mistake? When you and Ada and Al and I started the battalion, this isn’t what we had in mind.’

‘Isn’t it? We rescued someone innocent from an awful fate. I rather thought that was the whole idea.’

‘You know what I mean. We’ve got caught up in something we can’t even begin to understand. Who should I be protecting, my battalion, or a stranger?’

‘We all signed up for a dangerous life, Camille. We get to make that choice for ourselves.’ Guil pushed back the brim of his hat and scratched his forehead. ‘If Olympe wants her freedom, then who are we to take it from her?’

‘Even if it’s dangerous? Even if it puts us all at risk?’