Page 120 of The Song Rising

Jaxon finally laid his book aside.Prometheus and Pandorawas printed down the spine.

“Well,” he said. “Here we are, Paige. How things have changed since our last meeting. How far you have wandered.”

I took a good look at him. His face was ashen and slightly pinched, and a hint of gray had crept into the roots of his hair. He had lost at least a stone since I had last seen him.

“So,” I said, “am I here so you can twist the knife? One last laugh before the end?”

“I would never be so crass.”

“Yes, you would.”

Even his smirk was somewhat diminished. Whatever his title, he was a human among Rephaim. Even if he was their ally, he would never be their equal. And if there was one thing Jaxon despised, one thing that would eat away at him, it was being anyone’s inferior. This must be slowly killing him.

“Before we have our heart-to-heart,” he said, “I want to ask you something. Where did you move my syndicate?”

Well, at least he had got straight to the point.

“ScionIDE has noticed a conspicuous absence of voyants on the street. This give rise to the assumption that they have been relocated—but where?” He reclined in his chair. “I confess to frustration. London is my obsession, a place I believed I knew in exhaustive detail—yet somehow, you have found them a way to elude the anchor. Enlighten me, Underqueen.”

“You don’t really think I’d tell you.”

I sounded calm, but tremors were shooting through my body. His gaze dipped back to me, taking in my wretched appearance.

“Very well. If you mean to play coy,” he said, “we will have to find another topic of conversation. Your turn.” When I didn’t speak, he smiled in a way that jolted me back to Seven Dials. “Come, now, Paige. You were always insatiably curious. You must have questions . . . questions that are burning up your mind as you lie there in confinement.”

“I don’t know where to begin.” I paused. “Where are Nadine and Zeke?”

It wasn’t my most burning question, but it was important.

“Safe. They came to find me after you cast them out on to the streets.”

“If they’re in Sheol II—”

“Sheol II does not quite exist yet.” He scratched his forearm idly. “You did sink your claws into the others, though, didn’t you? Danica, usually so pragmatic—although I hear she’s fled the citadel. Clever woman. Nick and Eliza—they proved themselves to be greatadmirersof yours.”

I lifted an eyebrow. “Jealous?”

“Not particularly. If the footage I saw from Edinburgh is anything to go by, they have received their just deserts.”

They had to be alive. They had to be.

Jaxon leaned toward me and touched the coil of black at the front of my hair. It was all I had left of the dye he had given me to disguise myself when I had returned from the colony.

“A memento, darling?”

“A reminder.” I pulled my head back. “That I once let you control me.”

He chuckled. “Oh, you flatter me.”

A soft knock came, and a line of personnel entered, carrying in the Grand Overseer’s breakfast. Ever the epicure. French toast with berry compote; teacakes and whipped butter; then a silver tureen of cream, a pot of coffee, a dish of curried hard-boiled eggs and fresh, thick-cut bread. Jaxon waved the personnel away.

“Every revolution begins with breakfast,” I quoted as they left. “Is this your revolution, Jaxon?”

“I was under the impression it was yours. A failed revolution,” he said, “but you tried.”

“I expected to see more of you. You were full of fighting talk when I saw you in the Archon.”

“I came to the conclusion that there was little point in starting a war-game with you. I knew the syndicate would tear you to pieces of its own accord, if Vance didn’t destroy you first.” He assessed me with those pale-blue eyes. “Did you really think you could oust Scion with nothing more than a band of criminals, in their own heartland? This is real life, darling, not a pipe-dream.” He poured cream into a cup. “Eat. Let me tell you a story.”

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