Page 96 of The Mask Falling

“They took Portugal.” I closed my eyes. “Gonçalves will surrender.”

“I know.”

He rested his chin on the crown of my head. I almost fell asleep on him. The escape had pushed my body and my gift to breaking point.

In the end, he carried me up the stairs. I stayed conscious for just long enough to peel off the dissimulator, remove my wet clothes, and crumple into bed. Sleep hit me like the flat of an axe.

****

It was the sound of rain that woke me. When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was the ledger, which lay beside me on the bed.

Gray light leaked around the shutters. I shivered, unable to so much as lift my head. My cheeks flamed. I was sick as a small hospital—yet somehow, by the skin of my teeth, I was alive.

No more sirens. Ménard wasn’t the sort to waste time. He would have accepted that, for the time being, he had lost his bargaining chip.

Arcturus must have sensed me wake. When he came to me, it was with a steaming mug.

“Paige.” He placed it on the nightstand. “How do you feel?”

“Terrible. But grateful to be here.” I moved a clump of curls out of my eyes. “Thank you. I’d be in the Bastille by now if not for you.”

“I am sure you would have found a way out of the mansion.”

“I did. Then I scotched it.” I tried to sit up. “Don’t suppose you have a heat pad charged up.”

“I had thought to leave you one, but you developed a fever during the night.”

“Could have fooled me.”

I mustered the strength to lift myself onto my elbows. Arcturus moved the pillows to support me, then skirted a thumb over my fresh bruises, the small cut under my eye.

“Frère,” I said. “She wasn’t happy.”

“Evidently not.” He lowered his hand. “Your fever has not broken. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“Not badly.” Sitting up made it slightly easier to talk. Or whisper, at least. “You were shielding me. Areyouhurt?”

“Some trifling gunshot wounds. My body will expel the bullets in good time.”

Only a Rephaite could be so blasé. He went into the corridor and came back with another blanket, which he wrapped around my shoulders. Drawing it closer hurt the small joints in my fingers.

“If you can speak, I would hear what happened.” Arcturus sat on the edge of my bed. “How did Ménard capture you?”

This was going to be a difficult conversation. I sank back into the cushions and braced my right side.

“I let him,” I said.

There was a tense silence.

“You repeated your tactic,” he said. “Allowed them to take you.”

“Listen. Just hear me out.” I held his gaze. “Ménard was onto me. I needed to find out what he was plotting in there. I also wanted another piece of information for myself. For us.”

Arcturus looked at me as if I were a stranger. I raked a hand through my hair again and let it tumble between my fingers.

“I know how insane it sounds,” I said. “Like a death wish. And I know how you must feel about it—but I promise you, this was not a suicide mission. I meant to get out. Someone I knew was in there, someone who had good reason to help me. We struck a deal.”

After a time, he spoke. “Who?”

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