I knew better. I knew Jax. He protected his investments. He would never send a lone representative to meet Antoinette—the whole gang would be there. Vigiles staked out the streets during the night, and they knew how to use basic spirit combat. We would also have the public to contend with, and with voyants on the street, we could end up with a very big fight on our hands. A fight in which I would be dressed for one side, but rooting for the other.

I turned over, restless. This was my chance to escape, or at least to get word out. Somehow I had to reach Nick, if he didn’t kill me first. Or blind me with his visions. It was my one and only window of opportunity.

I gave up on sleep in the end. I went to the bathroom, splashed my face, and pulled my hair into a psyche knot. It had grown a few inches, down to my shoulders. Rain pounded at the windows. I dressed in the same uniform, the red traitor’s tunic, and went down to the chamber. The grandfather clock told me it was close to seven. I took a seat by the fire. When the hour struck, Warden appeared at the door, his hair and clothes drenched with rain.

“It is time.”

I nodded. He let me through the door, locked it, and walked with me down the stone steps.

“I never thanked you,” he said as we went through the cloisters. “For your silence.”

“Don’t thank me yet.”

The streets were silent. Melting hailstones crunched beneath my boots. When we reached the residence, two Rephs escorted us to the library where Nashira was waiting. She and Warden reenacted their ritual greeting: his hand on her stomach, her lips to his forehead. This time I noticed things. The rigidity of his movements, how he never met her eyes, how she ran her fingers through his hair, not looking at him. It put me in the mind of a dog and its mistress.

“I am pleased you could both join us tonight,” she said. Like we had a choice. “40, this is Situla Mesarthim.”

Situla was almost as tall as Warden. You could see the family resemblance: same ash-brown hair, same honey skin, same strong features and deep-set eyes. She nodded to Warden, who was still kneeling.

“Cousin.” Warden inclined his head. Situla turned her eyes on me. Blue. “XX-59-40, you will treat me as your second keeper this evening. I hope that is understood.”

I nodded. Warden stood and looked down at his fiancée. “Where are the other humans?”

“Getting ready, of course.” She turned her back on him. “You ought to do the same, my faithful one.”

His aura clouded over, like a storm was brewing in his dreamscape. He turned and walked toward a heavy set of crimson drapes. An amaurotic girl hurried after him, carrying a bundle of clothes.