Page 173 of The Mask Falling

He knew about Domino, too. About Ménard.

He kneweverything.

The enormity of my error stared me in the face. With this, he could not just damage the revolution. He could destroy it. Every person I loved would swing from the gallows, and they would be there because of me.

I had shown him how to win. How to make sure that Scion would never face a flicker of resistance.

“I see you are recognizing the scale of your complicity,” Arcturus said. “You were generous to furnish me with so much information. Of course, I could not have foreseen how far you would go to reach Senshield, else I would have stopped you then.”

My knees were about to give way. This had to be a last ripple of fever, a terrible hallucination.

“I could have gone on. There seemed to be no end to your gullibility. But the time has come for me to return to the blood-sovereign, and to share all I have learned,” Arcturus said. “We will crush every pocket of revolution. Together, we will claim this world.” The corner of his mouth crooked in a taunting smile. “The Rephaim are in your debt, Underqueen.”

I had sometimes wondered whether I could tempt him to smile. Not like this. That smile was a dissimulator on him, twisting him into a stranger. I drew my first breath in what felt like an eternity.

“Nashira is . . . taking you back,” I said. “As her blood-consort.”

“Such is her mercy. She knows that all I did, I did for her. Would you not say I have earned my reward, Paige?”

Hearing my name on his tongue had never felt like mockery before.

“Tell me.” I raised my chin. “How exactly were you serving her when you came to my door the other night?”

No answer. Just that awful, ill-fitting smile.

“You are Arcturus Mesarthim, a leader of the Ranthen. You were loyal to the Mothallath. You despise the Sargas,” I said, forcing myself to sound calm and reasonable, “and you have done everything in your power, for centuries, to bring them down. Do you deny it?”

“I was a traitor then. But the Mothallath are gone,” he said, “and it is because of humans.”

“Arcturus—”

“After Jaxon betrayed me in the first rebellion, I realized that the blood-sovereign was right about you. Humankind must be bridled. Portugal is defeated, and the King of Spain is dead. You will lose.”

“Enough.” I stepped closer, fear boiling into panic and anger. “Arcturus, please, stop this. However she’s threatened you, whatever hold she has over you, we’ll find a way out. We can—”

“There is nowe, fleshworm,” he cut in. “Your reign is ended. You are nothing but corrupt flesh, rotting on the bone.”

Against my will, I flinched in the face of his contempt. The night in my room gleamed across my mind, and for an unbearable moment, I saw it through a lens of Rephaite hatred. I rendered myself lewd and disgusting.

Our gazes locked. I searched for any trace of him from that long, dreamlike night, when everything had made sense. Any remnant of his warmth, his tenderness. All I could see before me was a statue. An automaton. A mimic. Something that wore a human shape, but was not, and had never been, human.

Through the ringing in my ears, I became aware of the dreamscapes beyond the walls. I was out of time—but I had to try, once more, to wake him up. To pull him from the brink. Not just for myself, or for him, but for the revolution.

“Arcturus. Warden.” I stood as close as I could without touching him. “Listen to me. The world Nashira wants is not the answer. Don’t go back to her. Don’t stay here to be displayed like a trophy for the rest of your days. Do not be complicit in our extinction.”

I might as well not have spoken for all the response I got. Abandoning all caution, I reached up and took his face between my hands, as I had not long ago, forcing him to look me in the eyes. A void looked back at me.

“Iknowthis isn’t you. Even if—even if it started out as a pretense, I don’t believe you were pretending. Not that night,” I said. “Remember the person you were before. The person who fought for the Mothallath. For clairvoyants. For humans.” I grasped his gloved hand. “The person who held back a blade with his bare hands tostopNashira Sargas.”

He looked down at my fingers, wrapped around his leather-clad ones.

“I want to spend my life with you,” I told him. “I want to bring Scion to its knees with you. I want a future with you.” My throat ached. “It’s not too late to do the right thing. You don’t have to tell Nashira about the syndicates. Don’t condemn thousands of people to death. And don’t choose the side I’m not standing on, because I don’t think I can bear to be your enemy.”

Nothing. I tried to use the cord, to make him understand, but it was frozen solid. I was screaming into an abyss.

“Walk out of here,” I whispered. “You will never be a war trophy to me.”

His gaze seared into mine once more.

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