“I already know how Boreas operates, if that’s what you’re worried about. His reputation wasn’t limited to the Winter wing, you know. Don’t worry,” she says, turning back to the ladder and scurrying up a few rungs, “Auggie refused to keep the cash I gave him. There should be more than enough to convince Boreas to tell us where Doug’s holding Fleur.”

“It’s not just that, there’s something else.” I climb inside and grab the first rung, hissing as a stitch in my shoulder pops. A warm trickle of blood slides down my arm.

Kai pauses. “Sure you don’t need any help?” she asks, frowning down at me. “It’s a long way up. Maybe you should go first.”

“Thanks, I’m okay.” I let her climb a few more rungs before I follow, careful not to put too much strain on my arm. It feels good to be moving. To be doing something. To have the beginnings of a plan: find Boreas, figure out where Doug’s keeping Fleur and Chill, reclaim my magic from the orb in Lyon’s office, and then get us all out of here. But what happens once I tell Kai about her sister?

I climb faster to keep up, determined not to think about the pain, or the possible alternative endings to this story. I’ll tell Kai everything. Just . . . not now. There’s nothing I can do to change what happened to Névé. But if we hurry and stay focused, there’s still a chance we can save Chill and Fleur.

We climb two stories, passing through the administration floor to the cardinal wings above it. I nearly collide with the sole of Kai’s shoe when she stops.

She presses her ear to the duct before wedging a pocketknife into a seam. With a grunt, she pries a panel loose. Dim light pours in, illuminating a swath of her face as she eases the panel to the floor.

I climb out after her into some kind of storage closet. The shelves are packed with cleaning supplies and kitchen uniforms. Mop buckets and brooms line the walls.

Kai cracks the closet door and peeks down the hall. “The cameras are going to be hard to dodge,” she whispers.

“Hold on. I have an idea.” I grab a couple of white kitchen smocks and elastic caps from the shelf, just like the ones Boreas gave Julio and me the day he helped break us out of here. Kai and I drag them on over our clothes. I hand her a gauzy germ mask with an elastic band and draw a second one around my head.

Kai’s petite frame swims in the smock. An obvious lump protrudes from her back.

“Ditch the bow,” I tell her.