Page 132 of The Song Rising

One hand beckoned me. The other held a syringe. A top-up dose of the drug.

The drug.

Goosebumps covered my arms. Seeing that needle, I realized what I hadn’t before, entranced as I was by the Jubilee.

Mental clarity.

My mind was clear as ice. There was no cloud inside it. My vision was sharp, and my gift seethed inside me.

There hadn’t been a first dose.

“Come here, girl,” the Vigile said.

I stared at my hands. Steady.

Artifice.

Alsafi. He must have swapped the syringes. Hock had shot something into my veins, but it must have been water. And now the building was almost empty; there was only a skeleton staff in the Archon while everyone attended the Jubilee. Until the celebrations ended, only a handful of Vigiles stood between me and Senshield.

Perseverance.

The Vigile drew his gun and aimed it at my head. “Come here,” he said. “Now.”

“What are you going to do?” I said softly. “Shoot me? Not without the Suzerain’s permission.”

The gun stayed where it was, but I had stared death in the face once before, looked down the barrel of a gun, and lived. He swore and returned his weapon to its holster. Took his keys from his belt and sifted through them. That was his mistake. Rage was pounding through my body, bubbling in my blood. It had set me on fire, and like the moth I was, I burned.

When the Vigile opened my cell door, I was ready. I sprang at him and slammed my body into his. As we fell to the floor, I clapped a hand over his mouth and nose, squeezed hard, and wrested the gun from his grasp. My arms were shaking, and he was clawing at my neck and hair, breaking skin—but I hit him with the pistol, over and over, bludgeoning his skull with all my strength, until blood glinted and his head rolled to one side. I grabbed his set of keys, hauled his dead weight into the cell, and locked the door with trembling hands.

Footsteps were approaching from somewhere to my left. I ran the other way, keys in one hand, pistol in the other, my bare feet feather-light on the marble.

I would help Marilena Bra?oveanu ruin their night of glory. If I had to die tonight, Iwouldrelease the Mime Order.

My head was throbbing as I rounded a corner, hoping against hope that nobody was paying attention to the cameras. I could feel the æther again, clearly enough to avoid the Vigiles patrolling the Archon and to know that Hildred Vance was nowhere near.

I felt for the room with the glass pyramid and found it instantly. Following the signal, I limped across the marble floor, trying to ignore the drumbeat in my bruises. I could sense two squadrons of Vigiles, spread over a vast building. In one corridor, I had to duck into the Minister for Finance’s office to avoid a lone one, who I hadn’t detected until it was almost too late. I stayed for several minutes behind a curtain, soused in icy sweat. A wrong move could get me hauled back to my cell, and I wouldn’t get out again. I might not be drugged, but I was physically weak—I couldn’t fight my way to the core.

When I was sure the Vigile wasn’t returning, I stumbled out of the office and back into the labyrinth, up the stairs to the next floor. Senshield was somewhere above me.

The central second-floor corridor was empty, dimly lit by sconces. The darkness calmed me, just a little. The signal above me wavered, and I paused briefly to think.

If the core was high up, it was most likely in a tower. The Archon had two, one on each end of the building. Inquisitor Tower was the one that housed the bells. The other one . . .

I sifted through the Vigile’s keys. Not one was labelledVictoria Tower. But then, only Vance and the blood-sovereigns were supposed to know where Senshield was; no one else would have access.

With fresh resolve, I set off again. Most of the doors I had seen in this building were electronic, but if the Vigiles carried keys, they must also have mechanical locks in case of a power failure—and those locks could be picked.

An alarm began to drill, raising my pulse. Either my empty cell had been discovered, or Bra?oveanu’s act of defiance had activated some kind of security alert. Metal blinds were scrolling over the windows, and blue-white emergency lighting had sprung up on either side of me. Adrenaline streaked through my muscles, keeping the ache at bay. I avoided a few more Vigiles before I finally staggered into a corridor with a thick ebony carpet, lined by windows on one side. At the end of this corridor was an arched, studded door, and set into this door was a small plaque readingVICTORIA TOWER. My breath came fast as I approached it. The core was now almost directly above me.

I tried the handle, not expecting it to work.

It gave way beneath my hand.

Slowly, I brought my weight against the door, opening it. A trap, surely. Vance wouldn’t have left the tower vulnerable while she was at the Jubilee. And yet—whatever lay beyond, it was my one and only chance. I stepped into the darkness and closed the door behind me.

A draft blew at my hair. There were no lights in the tower.

A balustrade was wrapped around a kind of well in the floor; the draft was coming up from there. When I risked a glance, I saw that the well dropped straight down into an entrance hall. A squadron of Vigiles ran through it, shining their flashlights. As soon as they were gone, I hit the staircase, fighting the weakness in my body, my head spinning from exhaustion and pain. I forced myself to continue, gripping the rails to crane myself up every step. My muscles had wasted during my coma and imprisonment; my knees had almost forgotten how to carry me. When I fell the first time, I thought I wouldn’t get back up. My hands reached for the next step, but it seemed as if I was at the foot of a mountain, staring up at the distant summit.

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