I wonder what will happen when the Duchess discovers I'm gone. That Ash is gone. I wonder whether Garnet will be able to keep Carnelian from telling. I wonder whether Garnet will tell. He has no loyalty to us and he doesn't seem particularly trustworthy-I can't imagine why Lucien chose him to help. Carnelian, at least, can be counted on not to do anything to endanger Ash's life.

I remember their exchange in the dungeon. "What did you tell her?" I say. It's been so long since either of us has spoken, my voice sounds creaky and louder than it should. Ash's cheek is resting against the top of my head.

"Mmm?" he breathes against my hair.

"When Carnelian asked you if anything was real, what did you say?"

I don't expect him to hesitate. He lifts his head and turns his face away from me. "That's private, Violet."

"You're going to keep secrets from me?"

"How many secrets have you kept from me?" he says.

I chew on my lip. "That's not the same. I had to. I made a promise to Lucien."

"And what of the promises I've made?"

"But you were hired to make her promises. That isn't the same as what we have."

"I know." Ash's profile is black against the darkness as he stares up at the ceiling. "But must I betray her confidence because you don't like her?"

I don't know what to say to that. I guess I always assumed Ash hated Carnelian as much as I do.

He sighs. "It isn't about keeping secrets from you. Carnelian is . . . extremely sad. And that sadness has been twisted into bitterness and anger. I don't wish to be another in a long line of people who have let her down, even if she would never know the difference."

I thread my fingers through his. "You don't have to be so noble."

"Not at all. I . . . I understand her a bit."

"Well, someday, you'll have to explain her to me."

I hear footsteps outside. Ash and I scramble to our feet, but we don't have a chance to hide again before the door opens and the light switches on.

Lucien enters the room. He wears his usual white dress with the high lace collar, his chestnut hair in a perfect topknot on the crown of his head, indicating his status as a lady-in-waiting. And it means more for him than it does for a female lady-in-waiting-male ladies-in-waiting are eunuchs, castrated so as to be considered "safe" to work alongside royal women.

A large satchel hangs from one shoulder. His eyes move from me, to Ash, to Raven, and back to me. He shows no surprise at seeing two more people than he expected-he must have talked to Garnet.

He closes the door and puts the satchel down. With measured steps, he walks up to Ash, grabs him by the throat, and slams his head against the wall.

"Lucien!" I cry.

"Is it true?" he snarls. Ash looks dazed. I grab the arm that isn't holding Ash's throat and pull.

"Stop it!"

Lucien turns on me. "Do you know what they're saying?" he hisses. "They're saying that this piece of trash raped you."

"What?" I gasp.

Ash comes back to his senses. In one lightning-fast movement, he grips Lucien's wrist and twists it. Lucien cries out in pain as Ash bends his arm back in a way that makes Lucien bow forward.

"What did you say?" Ash growls. I've never seen him use physical force like this before.

"Release me," Lucien barks.

"Ash!" I cry.

"He believes it. Do you see, Violet? He believes it." He bends Lucien's arm back a little more.

"And why shouldn't I?" Lucien says. "I know what you do, what you really do. All you companions, with your charming smiles and your filthy minds. I should never have let you get near her."

Ash yanks Lucien's arm again. "You don't know anything about me."

"I know you sleep with more women in a year than most men do their entire lives."

"And you think I enjoy it? Or are you just jealous that I can?"

At that, Lucien lets out a strangled yell and rips his arm from Ash's grasp. But Ash is too quick. In a second, he has Lucien pinned against the wall, his forearm cutting across Lucien's throat.

"Ash, you're hurting him," I say. He turns his head to meet my gaze. "Please, stop. Let him go."

Reluctantly, Ash relaxes his arm and back away. Lucien leans against the wall, massaging his shoulder.

"Ash would never touch me against my will, Lucien," I say.

"Well, I'd like to think you're not stupid enough to do it on your own."

"When will you stop?" Ash interrupts, taking a step forward. His face is flushed, making the bruise stand out sharply on his cheekbone. I immediately put myself between them as a physical barrier. "You're not her father. You don't get to lecture her about what she does."

"I think I know a little bit more about what's best for her than a companion," Lucien retorts.

"In case you hadn't noticed, I'm not a companion anymore," Ash says coldly.

"Enough," I say, pulling Lucien away from Ash. "You two can fight all you want once we're out of this awful place, but there are more important things to discuss right now. What's the plan?"

Lucien shakes me off, retrieves the satchel, and tosses it to me. "There are clothes for all of you in there. Get dressed, quickly. We were going to take the train, but that's not possible anymore."

I unzip the bag and find three pairs of brown woolen pants, three sweaters, and three pairs of shoes. There is also water, a flashlight, bandages, and antiseptic ointment. I use some of the water to wash Annabelle's blood off my legs, and tend to the wound on Ash's forehead and cheek. His eye is still swollen and I smear antiseptic around it.

"You, too," he says, dabbing some ointment on my cut lip. It stings a little.

Once we're dressed, I turn to Raven. She's still staring at the ceiling.

"Should we-" Ash begins.

"No, I'll do it," I say. I look at him, then Lucien. "Turn around, please." Raven might not be fully aware, but I know she would not want two strange men seeing her naked. I maneuver her into the pants-she is so light, so thin-but the sweater proves more difficult.

"Oh, Raven, can you sit up?" I mutter without any real hope. So I'm shocked when she does.

"Violet?" she says. Her eyes are bright, like they used to be.

"Put this on," I say, holding out the sweater.

"I've never been in this room before," she says, looking around as I put the shoes on her feet and help her off the metal slab. "It's very shiny."

"This is the friend you asked about, I assume," Lucien says. "The Countess of the Stone's surrogate?"

"This is Raven," I say.

"I'm Raven," she repeats.

"And you gave her the serum intended for you."

My spine straightens. "I did."

He raises his eyes to the ceiling. "Of all the surrogates in that Auction," he mutters. "Leave the coat here, I'll be back for it. I'll need to clean that up, too." He glances at the puddle of Raven's vomit and shakes his head. "This would have been so much easier if you'd listened to me."

Ash stuffs our nightclothes in the satchel and throws the strap over his chest. Lucien leads us out of the room and down the hall to another door marked DANGER: RESTRICTED. It isn't locked, which I find strange, and Lucien opens it easily.

Immediately, I am assaulted by a wave of intense heat and the scent of something burning. The room is empty except for a cast-iron behemoth with a large door set in its center.

"This is what's happening," Lucien says. "Your absences have been discovered. For reasons I can only assume stem from self-preservation, the Duchess has not revealed that you, Violet, are missing. She has accused him"-he jerks his head in Ash's direction-"of rape. A companion sleeping with any unsterilized female is a criminal act, but add to it that the female in question is a surrogate . . . well, the royalty are out for blood. All trains have been stopped in and out of the Jewel. Every available Regimental is combing the streets searching for him. In a few hours, his photograph will be posted in every circle of this city."

I feel hollowed out. "So what do we do?"

Lucien turns the handle on the cast-iron door and opens it. A wall of brilliant yellow flame burns inside, making the room even hotter. "This incinerator leads directly to the sewer system. You can at least make it to the Bank through the tunnels-the sewers for the lower circles aren't connected to these. There's a map in that bag. I've outlined your path in red. I'll have an associate waiting for you in the Bank, and we'll go from there."

"How will I know who your associate is?"

"Ask them to show you the key."

"What key?"

"You'll know it when you see it." He pauses. "You didn't, by some small miracle, happen to bring the arcana with you?"

"I did!" I exclaim, putting a hand to my messy bun. "It's in my hair."

Lucien smiles, a real, warm smile. "Good girl. I can track you using that."

"But . . ." I glance at the leaping flames. "How are we supposed to get down there?"

His smile fades. "You'll have to use the Auguries to put out the fire."

"What?" I stare at him, hoping that he's joking. "How?"

"I don't know. But you can do it."

"Lucien, that's not what the Auguries do. I mean, I wouldn't even know where to start."

"Listen to me." Lucien puts both hands on my shoulders. "It can be done. It's been done before."

My mouth falls open. "What? By who?"

"That doesn't matter right now. You have to do this. Otherwise . . ." He looks from me, to Raven, and finally, reluctantly, to Ash. "Otherwise, you're all dead."

Five.

I WALK TO THE INCINERATOR, THE WAVES OF HEAT CARESSING my face. Beads of sweat begin to form on my hairline and dew in my armpits. I feel a soft pressure on my wrist.

"Wait," Ash says. He looks from me to Raven and back again. "These Auguries . . . are these the things that made Raven get sick?"

I nod, remembering how Raven vomited blood and effectively ended the Duchess's luncheon.

"Will they make you sick?" he asks.

I hesitate. "Probably." There's no point in lying. "Yes."

Ash looks like he's about to protest, but I hold up a hand to silence him. I need to think.

I consider which of the three Auguries to use-Color, Shape, or Growth. Not Color, certainly-I don't see how changing the incinerator's color is going to help. Shape? Am I meant to change the incinerator's shape somehow? No, it's the flames that are the real problem. I think about Dr. Blythe, my doctor at the palace, and the oak tree in the Duchess's garden. He'd taken me out to it to test my Auguries. He insisted I make the oak tree grow and I never thought I'd be able to, it was so massive and so old. But I did.

I take another step forward, the heat stinging my cheeks. I can't touch the flames, but maybe touching the incinerator will be good enough. Its surface is hot, but not unbearable, the iron rough under my palm.

Once to see it as it is. Twice to see it in your mind. Thrice to bend it to your will.

But I have no image to bend this fire to. I envision a black space, empty and cold, but nothing happens. I don't even feel the beginnings of an Augury.

"I can't . . ." My throat tightens. "I don't know what to do."

An icy hand wraps around mine. Raven stands beside me, her face looking almost alive again.

"It has to die, Violet," she says. Keeping our hands clasped, she places her other palm on the incinerator. "It's not Growth. It's Death."

And then I see it, as clearly as if it were real. The flames growing weaker, smaller, like a mammoth pillow is pressing down on them, smothering them. I feel their resistant flickers, struggling for life, but the invisible pillow is stronger, and they grow frailer and thinner until they are nothing but pathetic wisps of smoke.

Blood droplets trickle down my nose. My head throbs strangely, but not necessarily in a painful way. The place where my skin touches Raven's is hot.

"Did we do that together?" I ask.