We’re all here now except for Wolfe and Morgan, he thought. Thomas’s rescue was almost within their reach. If Khalila and Dario really had discovered a way in, that was all they needed—an advantage. Get Thomas, get out, disappear.

Glain was staring at him from across the table, clearly worried. She waited for a few moments, smiling and talking to others, and then moved to a seat next to him when one became vacant. She bent close and said, “I saw. Khalila and Dario.”

“I think they may have information that can help with Thomas—”

“Jess. We’re all here because he wants us here,” Glain whispered. “The Artifex can’t touch Wolfe directly because of his mother, but us? Getting rid of us will isolate Wolfe. Destroy him.”

She was right. He’d been looking down the wrong end of the telescope.

This wasn’t a chance for them to rescue a friend.

It was a threat to kill them all.

The rest of Santi’s company arrived by ship the next morning. As early arrivals, Blue Squad got their pick of spots in the barracks built on the secured side of the basilica—which was, Jess realized, far larger than he’d ever imagined. An enormous building on a truly monumental scale, though only two stories in height. It took nearly an hour to walk from one end to the other, and that was at a brisk pace. A solid two hours, then, to travel both floors end to end.

Not even Egypt built on such a scale.

Most of the Library’s side of the basilica was a warren of offices and laboratories, with long, straight halls running the length of the structure. Jess began a map while he waited for the lights to dim and his squad mates to fall asleep. He planned to slip away once it was quiet and the snoring started, but the comfort of the bunk and the stress of the long days before pulled him down fast.

He woke up hard at the touch of a hand on his arm and found himself reaching for a knife with the speed of the criminal he’d once been . . . But he stopped when the scent of the girl crouched next to his bunk hit him. A light cinnamon perfume with a hint of dark amber. He connected that to Khalila even before her whisper said, “Quietly. Come.”

Jess slipped out of his bunk, pulled on a pair of uniform trousers and a loose black shirt, put his boots on without bothering to tie them, and followed the drifting sweep of her dress through the shadows to the hallway. She hardly made a sound, and for a strong moment he wondered if he was wrong; maybe this wasn’t Khalila. Maybe it was a vengeful Roman ghost whispering down the hallway, leading him to some terrible death.

She looked back at him with an impatient raise of her eyebrows, and he had to grin. Not a ghost. Though a terrible death is still on the table, some dour part of him said. He tried to ignore it.