Slavery is forbidden by the Law of the Miracle Court, and is illegal by the law of Those Who Walk by Day. That is why I have set bait for Inspector Javert to come. Because whether I live or die tonight, perhaps she will be able to find evidence enough to stop the Tiger’s trade.

Montparnasse tiptoes to the door of this dungeon and puts his ear to it.

He holds up ten fingers and my shoulders drop. Ten guards: more than we thought we’d find.

We don’t have time to stay and help the women, and we both know it. Yet Montparnasse is trying to help them to their feet.

“You’ve invited the army to this door,” Montparnasse whispers. He looks at me, his eyes unreadable. “Do you know what the Fleshers will do to them when the soldiers arrive? They’ll throw these women in the river so they don’t get caught.” His voice is shaking. “They’ll drown them, and there’ll be no proof they were here.”

He’s right, of course, and I’ll be to blame because I brought the army. Instead of offering them a way out, I’ve signed their death warrant.

“You get them out,” I say. “I must go get Ettie.”

He grabs my hand as I turn to leave.

“He’s waiting for me, not you,” I tell him. “It’s not your fight.”

Montparnasse’s face is shadowed in the flickering match light, uncertainty crossing his features.

“Ettie and I are only two,” I insist, motioning to the women. “And they are so many. You must help them.”

There are as many as five guards out front, and more will return to the garden soon. I can’t get past them all. I’m a fighter, not a killer. Montparnasse is a killer. He knows it. He knows he’s the only one who can get these women out and defend them if it all goes wrong.

His grip on my hand is tight.

“I’m Master of the Assassins Guild,” he says. “I’ve never been able to fight your battles. I’ve not been able to lift my hand to protect you. I cannot risk dragging my Guild into war.” His eyes are burning with emotion. “But if he kills you, I’ll take his head from his body and I’ll set it on a pike in the middle of the Lords’ table in the Miracle Court, and none will ever take it down. There it will rot, the worms will eat it to bone, and all who see it will remember you.” His voice breaks. “Even if Corday asks my life of me in return, I’ll do it. I swear.”

In the dirt and the darkness, and with the high probability I will never see him again, I bury myself in Montparnasse’s arms, resting my head against his hammering chest. He’s muscle, bone, and steel. If he ever had a heart, I know it’s mine. I want to tell him things, but I find that I can’t put them into words. So I push away from him and, my eyes full of unshed tears, say: