Page 125 of The Mask Falling

His eyes were a comfort in the dark. “Being a Rephaite has certain advantages.”

“You’re going to have to give me your full list of skills at some point.”

“Allow me to preserve a little of my enigma.”

I smiled at him. When I turned back to the others, Ivy was watching us from the corner.

“Welcome to Le Passage des Voleurs,” Léandre said. “From here, the world only gets darker.” He nodded to the lantern. “There are points where the air is thin. Stay close to each other, keep your mouths shut, and pray these tunnels hold.”

****

For a long time, we moved on a steady course downward, into ever-smaller passageways. While there were fewer spirits, the darkness was unyielding. According to Renelde, we were somewhere deep under the Forêt de Meudon, one of the two ancient forests to the west of Paris.

“How did you haul the old treasures through these passages?” I asked Léandre in an undertone. He stiffened as if I had shouted. “The chandeliers—”

“We dismantled what we could,” he said. “It took several trips to retrieve larger items.”

His patience with me seemed to wear thinner every time I spoke. “It was a pity to break the harp, but we found someone to put it back together,” Renelde said softly. I thought of my grandfather, who had loved to restore instruments. “The trade has made us a good coin on the black market. We will have money for the cause, Underqueen.”

“If Le Vieux Orphelin chooses to share it,” Léandre muttered. “It ishiscoin, after all.”

Silence closed in on us. I had no strength or coherence to waste. Once again, my hand strayed to the stimulant, but surely Léandre would let us rest soon. We must have been on the move for well over a day.

He led us on at a relentless pace. After a while, a stream of water appeared, dark as spilled oil. From an underground spring or lake in the forest, Renelde told me, which the perdues had yet to find.

Perhaps the Underqueen would care for a drink.

Buried alive. No one to find me. My legs shook, my stomach cramped, and I started weaving like a drunk. Everywhere, the darkness. Crushing darkness.

At last, I could stand it no longer. I braced my good hand against the wall and tried to fill my hollow chest, but the air down here was thick as wet clay, drying in my throat.

“Paige.” Arcturus stopped. “Malperdy, tell Léandre to wait.”

“He won’t like it.”

“No,” I said, but my voice was hoarse. “I’ll carry on. I’m fine.”

“You are not fine,” Renelde said firmly. “Sit.”

She guided me to the ground. Seeing the state of me, Malperdy cursed and went after Léandre.

There are ways to inflict pain.I shook my head as if I could dislodge the voice. Teeth clenched, I tried to get up, but my boots were as heavy as solid iron. My brow hit my knees.No need to be frightened, Underqueen—

“What is going on here?” Léandre had returned, splintering the hallucination. “Now is not the time to rest,” he hissed, an undertow of genuine anger in his voice. I looked up at him wearily. “I told you what to expect down here, marcherêve. If you are too weak for the journey—”

“Back off, princeling,” Ivy snapped at him. The words echoed. “She was waterboarded.”

The fury rushed out of Léandre. He gave me an odd look.

“One break,” he said, deadly soft. “If any of you raise your voices down here again, I will leave you to die.”

Ivy stared him out, and he stalked away. Arcturus stepped into the space he had left, arms folded, back to playing the bodyguard. I took the hip flask Ankou offered and sniffed it.

“Where did you get alcohol?” I said. He watched my face intently as I spoke, glanced at Renelde, then held a hand up flat and passed it twice over his mouth, his lips tilted up at the corners.

“He’s being coy,” Renelde said, signing to him as she spoke. “Ankou likes his secrets.”

Ankou shrugged. I thought of asking him why he was on the run, but if he hadn’t told the other perdues, I doubted he would tell me. Renelde dabbed her forehead and looked after Léandre.

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