“That’s what they want us to believe,” Morgan said. “There are several ways, actually, but getting the collar off was half the battle. I’ve spent months searching for a way to get out and stay out. When I found it, I waited until Scholar Wolfe made his move to join you. So the timing is exact. Not opportune.”

“You can understand her doubts,” Dario said, which was weaselly of him, sympathizing while still not agreeing. “We haven’t seen you since you were driven off by the Obscurist Magnus, apparently never to be seen again. One thing we know about the Library: it’s fully capable of turning us against each other.”

“You think you can’t trust me?” Morgan’s face set hard and she returned Glain’s stare, not Dario’s. “While you were being pampered and groomed, free to do as you liked, I was locked away. You have no idea where I’ve been.” She touched the skin at her throat: too pale, from long months of being circled by the collar. But the collar was gone. “I left my chains back in the Tower. And I’m not going back. If you don’t think you can trust me, fine—I’ll go my own way. But I’m not leaving until I see all of you safely out of here.”

Jess silently moved to her side, because suddenly there were sides, and at the very worst time. It lasted only a second, a terrible second, because Santi snapped, “No time for this. We trust her because we have to trust her. Now go.”

He moved past them, and Glain went with him. Dario and Khalila were next, with Wolfe, who was also—to Jess’s slight surprise—armed. The gun blended in with his black robes.

He seemed to falter a little, as if the memories had overwhelmed him. Morgan held out her hand to him. Wolfe looked at it as if he’d never seen such a thing and walked on.

“Well,” she said, “he’s not changed at all.”

“Come on,” Jess said. “Dario’s right. There’s still Thomas to find.”

“I was so worried you’d move faster than I could and I’d be too late,” she said, and her grip on his hand grew stronger. Almost painful. “I knew you’d left Alexandria. I was afraid—afraid something terrible would happen to you.”

“To me?” He forced a smile he didn’t quite feel. “Nothing ever happens to me.”

“Oh, I remember you collapsing with a wound that almost killed you after Oxford. You don’t fool me.”

“Shh.” He’d heard a scrape, and his instincts had spiked hard enough to hurt. There was a blind corner just ahead, and Wolfe was already passing the turn.

The noise had come from behind them.

Jess pushed Morgan ahead of him, toward Wolfe, and—though he’d sworn seconds ago he never would—let go of her hand. His shove sent her stumbling into the wall at the corner, and she turned back with a surprised expression that turned to horror, and Jess knew.

He did the only thing he could: he threw himself hard to the side, into the old stone wall, and a sharp-tipped bronze spear stabbed hard down into the floor where he’d been standing.