Page 103 of The Mask Falling

I was too tired to so much as nod. Even my fingers hurt, right down to the smallest joints.

“I need to know what happened in there.” Her expression softened. “I’m sorry to make you talk, but—”

“It’s fine. This is important.”

Speaking in an agonized whisper, I gave her a lightly edited version of how I had ended up imprisoned in the Hôtel Garuche: I had wanted a closer look at the outside of the building and had left the safe house to scout the perimeter. Another clairvoyant had detected me. I had been able to dispose of my dissimulator before I was hauled inside and locked up.

“By hiding the dissimulator, you broke the link to Mannequin,” Ducos mused. “Even in the face of arrest, you remained calm and protected the network.” For once, she made no move to smoke. “Now, the million-pound question. Did you obtain the intelligence we require?”

“I did.”

Ducos dropped her shoulders and exhaled. It was the strongest reaction I had seen from her. For the first time, I noticed the puffy shadows under her eyes, impossible to polish.

“Tell me,” she said.

“What do you know about the Suzerain?”

“An unidentified entity or entities at the highest level of Scion. That’s all I can disclose.”

If only she knew.

“Weaver ordered Ménard to provide a residence for that entity in France. A city where rare anormales will be transported in tribute,” I said. “Ménard hates the idea, and despises the Suzerain. The document I mentioned, the one Frère took to London, was the Great Territorial Act—his formal agreement to the deal. He signed under pressure, and it seems he’s honored it.”

Ducos was listening raptly. Her left hand lingered close to her pocket, where she kept her silver case of cigarettes, and I realized she must be refraining for my sake.

“Ménard is plotting a coup,” I continued. “He plans to imprison the Suzerain and her supporters inside the city he was forced to build for them. He plans to take England from under Frank Weaver. And then he plans to destroy them both. To claim Scion for himself.”

“Where is this city?”

“The best intelligence I have suggests Versailles.”

I filled her in on the fine details as much as I could, only leaving out the affair between Frère and Cade—useful information, but it might put both Cade and the child in danger. I explained that Ménard had captured an emissary from the Suzerain, and that he was the one who had given me the location. Yes, I was confident he would keep quiet about it.

“You did well. Very well,” Ducos said, at last. “All of this could have explosive potential.”

“I did as you asked,” I said. “Completed the assignment. Proved I could follow orders.”

“Yes.” She seemed lost in thought. “You did.”

“Then perhaps we can discuss my militia in London.”

Her gaze sharpened. “When I return, I will hear you out.” She stood. “Well done, Flora. To have escaped Inquisitorial custody in one piece is a tremendous accomplishment by itself, but to have done it in your condition,andfinished the assignment—I am very proud to have you in Mannequin.”

I nodded, relieved both that Ducos was pleased and that I could stop talking for a while.

“Now that Portugal has submitted, it may take several days for me to receive new orders,” she said. “Until I return, stay indoors.”

The news curdled in my stomach. “President Gonçalves has surrendered, then.”

“The fight was over. She must have accepted that no help was coming.” She slid her hands into her pockets. “Cordier should return by noon tomorrow.”

She turned to leave. “Ducos,” I said, and she stopped. “Do you think Scion will take Spain?”

Her face was impossible to read, but something in her eyes chilled me.

“I think,” she said, “that it’s only a matter of time.”

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