“That’s the kitchen door over there,” Sothe said. “I’ll go in first. The rest of you come through when I give the word.”

The others all looked to Winter, who nodded. Having seen Sothe in action under the Vendre, she was happy to let her take the lead. They pressed themselves against the wall, four to either side, while Sothe eased the door open and ghosted through. A few moments later, they heard her voice.

“Everyone stay quiet! The rest of you, come in.”

Winter opened the door. The hotel kitchens were vast, but apparently underused—only one of the three hearths was burning, and most of the long wooden tables were piled with dirty cookware and other debris no one had gotten around to cleaning up. Four women in dirty linen stood by a tub of foamy water, brushes in hand. They were all staring at a swinging double door, where Sothe was standing. She had her arm around the neck of a man in hotel livery, a bloody knife held tight against his throat. Her other hand held a pistol, aimed at the closest of the women. At her side, another man wearing a Patriot Guard sash was still twitching as blood from the slash across his throat puddled on the floor.

“Don’t hurt him!” one of the women shouted, letting her brush fall into the tub. “Please, we—”

“Quiet!” Sothe hadn’t discussed her plan beforehand, but Winter felt she got the gist. She kept her voice low. “Nobody’s getting hurt if you don’t make a fuss.”

“We’re not with the Patriot Guard,” one of the other women said as the rest of Winter’s group filed into the room and shut the door behind them. “We just work here, I swear.”

“I know. Cooperate, and we’ll let you go.”

“We’ll have to tie them up,” Sothe said. “Just in case.”

“They didn’t give us any choice,” the man she was holding said. “The boss just told us they were moving in—”

“Prisoners,” Sothe interrupted. “Where do they keep the prisoners?”

There was a moment of silence, broken by a crackle from the hearth. Then one of the women, hesitant, volunteered, “There’s no prisoners here. No cells or nothing.”

Winter’s throat went tight, but Sothe shook her head.

“Maurisk wouldn’t let her out of his sight. He’s here, isn’t he? The Directory President?”

“On the sixth floor,” the man said. “We’re not allowed up there anymore. We just drop meals off with the soldiers.”

“That has to be it, then,” Winter said.

“Is there a way up that isn’t guarded?” Sothe said.

“We use the back stairs,” one of the women said. “But there’s a guard, day and night.”

“Only one?” Sothe said

The woman nodded.