Retreating back inside, I went to the glass doors Anaïs had broken through. Below lay my private courtyard and the wall she would have come over to get inside. Opening the doors, I hurried down the steps, barely noticing Marc trailing along after me.

Cécile’s piano still stood in the middle of the space, but it was covered in a layer of dust. I walked in a slow circle around it, then came to a halt at the bench. Stacks of music covered the seat, the paper as dusty as the piano. Wiping my hands on my trousers to remove the blood dripping down from my wrists, I began to sort through them, quickly coming up with what I’d been looking for. “Hidden in plain sight,” I said, holding them up.

“Then what are the half-bloods constructing?” Marc asked, his expression grim.

“Were you present when he told them to build?”

Marc nodded, his eyes growing distant as he remembered. “His speech was long, but he concluded by lifting a roll of parchment into the air and shouting, ‘Behold the plans for a stone tree.’”

I shook my head slowly, admiring his genius. “He gave them drawings of the tree as it is now. They’re building something that is doomed to fail – and he knows it. And by keeping the Builders’ Guild focused entirely on maintaining the magic version, he ensures none of them will have the time to do the calculations to determine that while the existing structure works for magic, it won’t work for stone.”

Marc blinked.

“You didn’t think it took me two years to come up with plans identical to something I looked at every day, did you?” I asked, shaking my head. “I assure you, these plans” – I shook the parchment – “are drastically different for a reason. The question is, why would my father let me out, knowing that I would see through his deception?”

Marc shook his head slightly.

Turning round, I pressed a piano key, the note echoing out around us. “He wants me to do something.” I pressed another key. “What does he think I’m going to do?”

“I thought you weren’t going to do anything but wait to die?”

I shot him a dark look. “I haven’t said I’m going to do anything.”

“Of course not.” Marc kept a straight face. “This is all just speculation.”

“Indeed. Something to pass the time while I wait.”

“To die.”

“Or not.” I scratched the skin around one puncture in my arm – it had finally scabbed over, but the healing itched terribly. “What does he want from me?” I murmured to myself.

“Perhaps he wanted you to lead him to where your plans were hidden,” Marc said. “Maybe we’ve just given him what he wanted.” We both looked around, but we were alone, and Marc’s magic kept our conversation private.

“Perhaps,” I replied, but I was not convinced. There was no evidence he’d even gone looking for them. “If that’s the case, he lucked out, because I didn’t know where they were.”