There in the warmth of his embrace I feel safer than ever before. I can almost forget that Tomasis would not defy the Tiger to save Ettie—this man who has cared for me more than Thénardier ever has. He’s the only true Father I’ve known.

“I don’t know if I prefer this or the tin cup,” he says, his eyes sparkling. “First the Châtelet, and now the palace? You will be surely be a Merveille of the Miracle Court. They’ll sing songs about you when you’re dead and gone. You’ll be more famous than le Maire and the Gentleman!” He pounds my back, almost knocking the wind out of me.

I look around. Femi is hovering nearby; he winks.

Ettie is being accosted by Gavroche and is hand-feeding him bread.

When I join her, she glances pointedly at Montparnasse. He’s standing alone in a shadow. She disentangles herself from Gavroche and, taking my hand, drags me over to the Assassin.

“Cat,” he says to me. “Ghost,” to Ettie.

Ettie nudges me.

“I got you something from the palace,” I say.

“Why?” he asks.

I flush. “To thank you for warning us … at the ball—”

“She got you a present because you’re friends.” Ettie cuts off my awkward explanation.

Montparnasse watches me with fascination. I fumble in my pockets, find the jeweled dagger, and hold it out to him. He looks at my hand as if I’m offering him a snake.

“Go on. Take it.”

He accepts the dagger cautiously and examines it, tilting it so it glimmers in the light.

“There are no friends to children of the Miracle Court,” he says, echoing Corday’s words. “There are allies, or enemies. Nothing else.”

He walks away, leaving Ettie huffing at his rudeness yet whispering that she still thinks he likes me.

As he goes, he tucks the dagger inside his cloak, so perhaps there’s something to what she says after all.

Then the frenzy starts. The Lords rise. Their Masters divide the bread, and it’s given out to the Court. Everyone eats. Some only a mouthful, keeping the rest for children or sick ones at home.

Femi approaches and sweeps me up, dragging me into a whirl of a dance that has no steps. I hold on tight as he swings me around. The room spins, grows distant, and I’m laughing so hard I can barely breathe.

Then there’s wine, which is always plentiful. Loup brings us our cups. We all drink deeply. The Ghosts and Thieves gather around, demanding to hear the tale of how we got the bread and where we’ve been. There are songs and stories, and Ettie is there beside me, her voice raised in laughter. For hours we sit, leaning against the stage till rolling waves of tiredness hit us. Ettie grins sleepily at me, her eyes narrow slits. She yawns widely and I laugh at her.

She twines her fingers around mine and leans her head on my shoulder.

“You’ll be safe, I promise,” I whisper.