"Cheer up, cousin," Garnet says. Carnelian is staring at Ash and me with a half-furious, half-broken expression. "Think about Mother's face when she finds out they're both gone."

The corner of Carnelian's mouth twitches.

Garnet nods. "Thanks for the help," he says with a wave of his hand. He turns to us. "Now let's go."

Three.

WE RUN UP THE STAIRS AND OUT OF THE DUNGEON AS quickly and quietly as we can.

The halls are empty. Ash keeps one arm wrapped around his ribs, clutching his left side. His free hand grips mine.

"Are you all right?" he asks, with a nod to my nightgown. Annabelle's blood has nearly dried. It stains my knees and shins. A lump swells in my throat.

"That's not mine," I whisper.

Ash's eyes widen. "Who-"

I shake my head hard. I can't talk about that right now.

We pass the dining room and emerge into the glass promenade that connects to the east wing, where Ash's quarters are. It's like this night is replaying itself in backward fashion. But Ash is with me now. I squeeze his hand to remind myself.

"What's his story?" he breathes in my ear, his eyes trained on Garnet.

I shrug.

"His story is he's trying to get the two of you out of here without ending up dead," Garnet replies. "So shut up and keep close."

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"We need transportation," Garnet says.

"Right. So what's the plan?"

"Seriously, Violet?" he says, stopping for a moment. "Does it look like I'm following an instruction manual? I'm making this up as I go. If you have a better idea-"

"No, no," I say quickly. "Whatever you think is best."

"He knows your name," Ash murmurs as we continue down the hallway.

"Lucien," I say with a shrug. Ash mutters something I can't hear.

Past Ash's former living quarters, left turn, right turn, left again, we move deeper into the east wing than I've ever been.

"How do you know the servants' wing so well?" Ash asks Garnet.

Garnet raises an eyebrow and shoots me a leering grin. "I get around."

I cringe, thinking of all the unsuspecting kitchen maids that Garnet might have preyed on, but Ash is unfazed.

"No you don't," he says.

Garnet snorts. "How would you know?"

"I would," Ash replies. "And I do."

Garnet's mouth turns into a sneer as we reach a door at the end of a hall. He unbuttons his Regimental coat and tosses it to me. "You'll need this," he says. I slip it on. The sleeves fall well past my fingers and I'm inexplicably reminded of my mother's bathrobe, how huge it was when I used to wear it around my house in the Marsh, back when the scariest thing I could imagine was leaving my home for Southgate Holding Facility.

Garnet opens the door and I'm hit with a blast of frigid air. My teeth are chattering before we step outside. I move to offer Ash the coat, since he doesn't even have a shirt on, but he holds it tight around me. Icy grass crunches under my bare feet, and my toes are numb in seconds. The night has turned cloudy, no moon or stars to light our way, but Garnet is sure of his direction. A black shape-a low, boxy structure-appears in the darkness. When we reach it, I hear Garnet fumble with the key ring.

A lock clicks, and we move from the freezing night air to a chilled, quiet place.

The door closes behind me and a light flicks on. A row of gleaming motorcars stretches out in a cavernous space. I see the white one the Duchess and I took to Dahlia's funeral at the Exetor's palace, and the black one I took to all the balls, but there is a bright red one, a silver one, and pale blue and lemon yellow as well.

Garnet heads straight to the red motorcar and opens the trunk.

"Get in," he says.

I never imagined I'd be willing, if not eager, to climb into the trunk of a car.

"Don't you think someone will notice if a car is missing?" Ash mutters as he climbs in beside me. I scoot back to make room for him.

Garnet grins. "This is mine. It won't be the first time I've taken her out for a late-night joyride."

Then he slams the trunk shut.

Panic tackles me with a ferocity that leaves me breathless. The darkness is too close, too confining. My palms slam against the top of the trunk until Ash's cold hands find my face.

"It's okay, Violet," he whispers. "Breathe."

My lungs expand and the weight of everything overwhelms me. A torrent of tears pours out of me as I bury my face in his chest. The car starts, a low vibration running through my body. I hear the muffled sounds of a garage door opening and closing, and then I'm slammed against Ash as Garnet backs out of the driveway. The car circles in a dizzying movement, and my back is thrown against the other side of the trunk, Ash's body crushing mine.

"You know," Ash gasps, "I think he's enjoying this."

And then, like with the tears, I burst into hysterical laughter, my stomach contracting so hard it hurts, and Ash laughs, too, only his laughter dissolves into a spasm of coughing.

"Are you okay?" I ask, kissing every part of him.

"I'm fine-ow," he says as my lips land on his bruised cheek. "What exactly happened? The last thing I remember is the Duchess coming into my room."

I tell him about the arcana with Garnet's voice on the other end, and the Duchess tying me up and Annabelle . . .

"I left her there," I say. "All alone."

"You had to," Ash murmurs. "Violet, you had to."

We're quiet for a moment. The guilt and pain and grief that I'd managed to suppress during our flight from the palace swells up inside me. I see her face in the dark, smell the lily scent of her hair.

"It's my fault," I whisper. "If I hadn't . . . if we . . ."

"No." The word is loud and authoritative in our cramped quarters. "The Duchess killed Annabelle, Violet. Not you. Not me."

I rest my head against his shoulder and make myself a silent promise. To not forget her, ever. To keep her alive the only way I can.

"Do you know where we're going?" he asks.

"No." Now that we're on the road, the ride is very smooth. I wriggle out of the jacket and throw it over Ash.

"Violet, I'm not-"

"We'll both use it," I insist, snuggling as close as I can into his side. His skin is freezing.

Ash strokes my hair. The vibrations of the car engine are a soothing, numbing sound.

"You saved my life," he whispers, his breath warm against my temple.

"I wasn't going to just leave you there."

He laughs softly. "I appreciate that."

"You would have done it for me."

We ride like this for what seems like hours before the car stops abruptly, and the trunk is thrown open. The moon must have come out again, because Garnet is silhouetted against its silvery light.

"Did you two have a nice ride?" he asks with a grin.

Ash climbs out of the trunk and helps me, throwing the coat around my shoulders. "Where are we?"

I look around. It's some sort of dark alleyway, bordered by two plain, rectangular buildings.

"The morgue," Garnet replies.

I shiver.

He leads us to an iron door, painted white to match the building's exterior.

"It's not locked?" I ask.

"This is the morgue for servants and surrogates," Garnet explains.

"Right," I mutter.

The morgue's interior is chilly and sterile. Garnet takes a small flashlight from his belt, illuminating several long hallways that are a dreary green and smell like antiseptic. My feet stick to the waxed floor.

"Where are we going?" I whisper.

He shines the beam of the flashlight to the left and then to the right. "Good question. Lucien didn't happen to tell you where exactly you were going to meet him?"

"I was supposed to be dead," I say.

"Right."

"We could always follow the arrows." Ash is standing by the corner where two halls intersect, staring intently at the wall. "Garnet, bring the light."

Garnet shines the flashlight on the wall where there is a directional sign.

SURROGATES.

LADIES-IN-WAITING.

SERVANTS.

We take the right hall, through a set of swinging double doors into another hallway. Ash tries the handle of a door across from us.

"Locked," he says.

"This one isn't," Garnet says, opening the door. He flicks on the light and gleaming silver compartments come into view, lining the walls, row upon row of square doors. Everything is sharp and pristine.

"Are those for the . . ." I can't bring myself to say the word bodies.

"Yes," Ash murmurs.

"Are they all . . . full?" The thought of so many dead surrogates makes me colder than I already am. Annabelle's blood pricks at the skin on my knees.

"I hope not," he replies.

"Do you think Raven is here already?" I ask. When I gave her the serum at the Duchess's luncheon this afternoon, Raven was practically catatonic. But she roused when she heard my voice. I have to hope she understood me.

Ash swallows. "There's only one way to find out."

"Who's Raven?" Garnet asks.

"My best friend," I reply. My legs start to shake as I approach one of the compartments. "The Countess of the Stone's surrogate. I gave her Lucien's serum."

"You what?" Garnet shakes his head. "You know, if Lucien wasn't so intent on saving your life, I think he might kill you."

I ignore him, my fingers trembling as I turn the handle and pull the door open.

Empty.