Page 140 of The Song Rising

“No, no—she’s all right, sweetheart. She’s alive.” He hitched up a reassuring smile. “She’s just . . . with the Mime Order.”

“Why isn’t she with us?” When he still didn’t look at me, I grabbed his chin. “Nick.”

It was only now I was this close that I noticed how raw his eyes were. “Burnish made her stay behind, to continue running the Mime Order with Glym. She has more knowledge of London than she does of anywhere else—it made no sense for her to leave,” he said quietly. “We had no choice but to comply. Burnish’s sponsor wants the Mime Order intact in London and the three of us joining them somewhere—in Europe, I imagine, given that we’re going to Dover.”

“To do what?”

“To work for them. To continue what we’ve started.” He pulled on his own sweater. “You’ve done what you set out to do here: united the syndicate and deactivated Senshield. You’ve given them a chance to survive—more than any other leader has. It’s not safe for you to be in the heartland now.”

“Scion told the world I was dead,” I said. “It should be safer than ever.”

“The rumor that you never were will soon get out, and then tracking you down will become even more of a priority. You’ll be an embarrassment to them as well as a liability.” He zipped up his oilskin. “The Ranthen agreed to send Warden with you, so he can report back to them on what we’re doing.”

“So we’re being shipped off. Because it’s what the Ranthen and some . . . sponsor of Burnish’s want.”

Everything had changed so quickly. Eliza would be distraught at being separated from us. We were her family, and I hadn’t even been able to say goodbye. For the first time, I realized how much control I had lost when Scion had broadcast the news of my death.

“Paige,” Nick said softly, seeing the set of my jaw, “it might be the best way. Eliza’s going to rule jointly with Glym. They can handle things here now Senshield is gone.”

It was the end of my reign. I was no longer Underqueen. I had known it, but now it felt real. At least they would have strong leadership—Eliza and Glym were two of the few people I really trusted, and who I knew would keep the Mime Order together in the months to come. If I’d had a say in the matter, they would have been the replacements I chose.

The door lifted, and Burnish returned to the truck, letting in a flurry of snowflakes. She stood and crossed her arms.

“Congratulations.” She smiled at us all. “You are now part of the Domino Program, an espionage network acting within the Republic of Scion. Thanks to your newfound employment, you’re now on your way out of the heartland, into mainland Europe.”

Maria had an impressive bruise on one cheek. “Who exactly are you working for, Burnish?”

“All I’m at liberty to say is that I’m sponsored by a free-world coalition—one that has a vested interest in preventing the expansion of the Republic of Scion.” Burnish reached into a briefcase. “Either you do as I say, Hazurova, or I’ll just shoot you. You know too much already.”

She handed Maria a thin leather dossier.

“There’s your new identity. You’re going home, to Bulgaria,” she said. “You’ll receive instructions within the next few weeks.”

Maria leafed through the documents, her face tight. The next folder Burnish handed out was mine. “I hope your French is up to scratch, Mahoney,” she said. “You and Arcturus are taking a merchant ship to Calais. A contact will meet you there and take you to a safe house in the Scion Citadel of Paris, where the army isn’t stationed.” She handed me a phone. “Take this. Somebody will be in touch.”

Paris. I didn’t know what Burnish’s sponsor wanted from me, but if there was one place in Scion I could have chosen to go next, it was there. Jaxon had told me that was where Sheol II would be constructed, and that meant a new gray market.

I could stop both.

I opened the folder, which was embossed with the seal of the Republic of Scion England. My alias was Flora Blake. I was an English student who had taken a year out for research. My subject of interest was Scion History, specifically the establishment and development of the Scion Citadel of Paris.

At my side, Nick drew his knees closer to his chest. “I’m not going with Paige?”

“I’m afraid not. I’m sending you back to Sweden, where you’ll be of most use to us. You have the language, the local knowledge—and personal experience of how Tjäder runs things there.”

He looked through his dossier with a knitted brow. I gripped his hand.

Warden said, “I suppose I am to keep out of sight.”

“Correct. And you’ll have to think of your own cover story.” She checked her watch. “Right on time.”

One by one, we emerged from the truck. I looked out at the English Channel, not quite believing that I was heading toward it.

The five of us walked to the seafront, where ships were docking and vehicles were being unloaded. The majority of the ships were ScionIDE property, boasting names like the INSInquisitor’s VictoryandMary Zettler III. Some of them must have brought the soldiers here from the Isle of Wight. There were merchant vessels, too, freighters that carried heavy cargo between Scion countries and to a small number of neutral free-world states.

“Burnish.” I walked alongside her, holding my jacket as close as I could without setting fire to my skin. “Will you do me one favor?”

“Name it.”

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