Nomi snuck a little closer and watched the owner’s wife and daughter finish cleaning up the shop. She waited until, at long last, the lights went out. A few minutes later, the windows on the upper floor brightened. And then, another hour after that, those lights went out as well. Nomi listened for footsteps, any sign that someone was out on the street. When she was sure she was really, truly alone, she scuttled across the street and down the narrow walkway beside the worn stone building. The rear of the shop backed up to the main canal, and soon the smell of brackish water and dead fish overtook the more appealing scents of bread and melted chocolate.

Nomi’s pulse raced. She glanced across the water at the glitter of the palazzo. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She wouldn’t lose her nerve now. She couldn’t. Her parents deserved justice.

With a last look at the palazzo, she turned around. The back door of the bakery was also locked. She wrapped her arm in the thick folds of her cloak.

You’ve already broken the law. You learned to read. You escaped prison. This is child’s play.

Nomi tried to imagine what Serina would do.

She wouldn’t hesitate.

With that thought, Nomi slammed her elbow into the glass panel in the top half of the door. She had to do it a couple of times to break the glass, and the loud crack sent horror coursing through her. She ducked away from the door and waited, breath held, for the baker to rush down and investigate the commotion.

Endless minutes passed.

Eventually, she accepted that, miraculously, no one was coming. She carefully reached through the small ragged hole to unlock the door.

As quietly as she could, she slipped into the bakery, the broken glass crackling under her boots. She put out her hands to feel for the doorways she’d seen as she shuffled down the hallway, her heart clamoring loudly in her throat.

At last, her hand caught on a door handle.

It squeaked faintly as she opened it. Stairs, down into a velvet darkness.

She crept into the black. Why hadn’t she bought a lamp? Or a box of matches, anything to help her. She put her hands out, feeling her way. Malachi had said there was a secret door behind a relief of a fat-bellied man.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs she knelt, running her hands along the lower half of the wall, pushing and testing the wood. Nothing. She moved down and repeated her actions. Again, and again. She wriggled between the legs of a table, hands trailing the wall, only to crack her head painfully on a chair set up at the other side.