My blood runs cold. “What does Orso mean?” I ask with a trembling voice.

“Father has heard that there is a traitor among the sons of rebellion.” He takes another little bite, making the pastry last as long as it can. “They march to their doom.” He looks at me with his serious eyes. “He bids you tell them on his behalf.”

With the pastry finished and the message delivered, he bows formally to me.

“Bonne chasse,” he whispers, and fades into the night.

I let him go, my mind a whirl, and steal back into the house, where I walk squarely into St. Juste.

St. Juste looks over my shoulder out the door, but Gavroche has disappeared.

“What were you doing outside?” he asks.

I know I should give him Orso’s message, but I hesitate. “Taking the air,” I say.

He frowns. He knows I’ve never “taken the air” in my life.

“You were with someone. Who was it?” he demands.

“My secret paramour,” I say, waggling my eyebrows suggestively.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” St. Juste brushes the idea of a romantic assignation aside.

“Why is it ridiculous for me to have a secret paramour?”

“We have an agreement,” he reminds me.

St. Juste has promised to help me in my quest as long as I ensure that the Miracle Court will aid him in his takeover of the city. It is meant to unfold in the course of a single night: arm the students, blow up a few gendarmeries, set the Hyènes to attack any police, while the Ghosts watch and relay where the enemy is. With our combined efforts the city should be ripe for the taking. Yet if I give him Orso’s message about a traitor among his ranks, he may call off the rebellion. And if he does, will he still be ready to aid me?

“Have I in any way not delivered?” I retort, offended. “I’ve brought you everything you asked. I’ve carried your messages, bought you guns and knives, whatever you required.”

“And we’re very grateful. But we’re so close now, we need every one of us to be focused on the task at hand.”

“You think I lack focus?” I ask darkly.

“We realize that you have, er, other priorities. You’re a Thief.” He stumbles over the word awkwardly. “And we turn a blind eye to what you have to do to survive in this cruel city.”

“How generous of you.” Sarcasm drips off my every word.

“But should you get caught, or arrested, you could be thrown into the Châtelet right when we need you the most.”

“You do remember that time I broke Orso out of the Châtelet?”

His face clouds as he also remembers that I had him arrested as a distraction. Then he smiles calculatingly and closes the distance between us. I ignore my racing pulse.

“You’re the most daring girl I’ve ever met.”

“You don’t meet a lot of girls, St. Juste,” I point out.

His cheeks go red. “We are not playing games here, Nina,” he says angrily. “You must take things seriously.”