Page 101 of The Mask Falling

My desire to bridge the rift between us strained against my pride. I was split in half by that tug-of-war.

“We’ve no time for it, in any case,” I said shortly. “We need to establish if the colony really is in Versailles.”

Arcturus looked back at me for a long moment, as if he wanted to press the subject.

“We could ask the perdues,” he said. “They are the followers of Le Vieux Orphelin, the missing grand duc.”

“You know about them?”

“You asked me to discover who painted the graffiti. Who supports you in Paris,” Arcturus reminded me. “It was the perdues. It seems Le Vieux Orphelin is an admirer of yours.”

Interesting. “What makes you think they would know about Sheol II?”

“Because all three of the grands ducs may know a way into Versailles. Do you recall the jewelery La Reine des Thunes wore during our audience?”

“It was hard not to notice,” I admitted. “I’d love to meet whoever can cheat that bright a sparkler.”

“I do not believe they were ersatz diamonds. In fact, if I am not mistaken, those jewels once belonged to a resident of the Château de Versailles,” Arcturus said. “Marie Antoinette.”

I tried not to wince. In the syndicate, it was taboo to speak the names of executed monarchs out loud.

“She was guillotined,” I said. “Her jewels could have been stolen, washed up in the Parisian underworld that way. It doesn’t necessarily mean the grands ducs know a way into Versailles.”

“If I may present some more evidence,” he said. “The chandelier was solid silver, identical to those that once hung in the Hall of Mirrors in Versailles. There were other treasures in that chamber. A harp. A guéridon, fashioned of marble and gilded wood. A porcelain jewel box.”

“You think the grands ducs looted all that from the ruins?”

“It is possible. In order to do that, they would have needed a clandestine way in and out of the city. I imagine Le Vieux Orphelin was part of this operation. If so, his perdues may know more. I spoke again to Katell, who admitted that Mélusine is one of them.”

Mélusine had kept her allegiance very quiet. “We need a meeting with them,” I said. “Think you could arrange it, now you’re an underworld expert?”

“Once you have seen Ducos and Cordier, I will try. We should both be here when they arrive.”

****

We waited. Arcturus made me a bowl of buttered salmon and lentils. After days of almost nothing to eat, I should have been ravenous, but my appetite was gone again—as good as it tasted, I couldn’t eat more than a mouthful. I settled for plain toast.

Arcturus switched on the evening news. The Chief of Vigilance explained away the security alert, claiming it was a system test. All was well. I ate tiny bites of toast and coughed.

Ménard must be furious. The thought that Cade might suffer his wrath made me uneasy. Even if he had failed in his attempt to soften a vicious tyrant, he seemed decent, if misguided.

After the local news, Scarlett Burnish appeared. She welcomed the new denizens of the empire to Scion, speaking over clips of well-behaved troops. Next, Weaver gave a speech aimed at Pilar Brugués Olivencia, the Prime Minister of Spain. He urged her to oppose King Esteban and surrender (“Will you fight to keep one man enthroned, or spare your people weeks of blood?”). Burnish returned to reflect on the pride and self-regard of monarchs, their lust for power. She was the perfect servant of the anchor. No crack in her façade.

I had never been able to thank her for saving me. Most likely, I never would.

King Esteban would die. A republican like Daniela Gonçalves could be molded into a Grand Inquisitor, but not a monarch. Never a monarch. Nashira Sargas would brook the reign of no sovereign but herself.

My skin burned through my nightshirt. Between deep stabs of pain, I dozed and shuddered and coughed. When the front door opened, Arcturus woke me with a small tug of the cord.

My arms were too weak to support me. He offered a hand, which I took, and lifted me into a sitting position. I tried to thank him, but the pain was too much to bear. Even swallowing hurt.

Cordier entered the parlor first and flashed a smile at Arcturus. Tonight she wore a cream silk blouse tucked into a high-waisted skirt, and pumps with tiny spotted bows.

“Hello,” she said to Arcturus. “Again.”

Arcturus offered a nod.

“Cordier,” Ducos said in a starched tone as she stepped in, “see to Flora, if you please.”

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