Lily is wearing a simple gray coat and a pretty purple hat with a yellow ribbon on it. She looks cared for. She looks healthy. I want to hold on to her and never let go. I want to make sure she's real.

But I can't stay here.

"Help me," I gasp.

"Of course," Lily says. "Are you lost? Do you need help finding your mistress? Oh, Violet, I thought I'd never see you again! You live in the Jewel, don't you? You must, I knew of course that someone in the royalty would have bought you. Did your mistress take you shopping? Have you seen Raven at all? Is she in the Jewel, too? Oh, have you heard about that companion!"

I'd forgotten just how much Lily can talk-a strange sensation bubbles up in my chest, a mixture of happiness and exasperation.

"Lily," I interrupt, before she can keep going, "I need a place to hide."

Her eyebrows knit together. "From what?"

A few Regimentals run past us at that moment, one of them yelling, "Search the alleys!"

I shrink back against the wall. "From them," I say.

Lily looks from the retreating Regimentals to me and back again. I see something click in her expression. The next moment, her hand slips into mine.

"Come with me," she says.

We hurry down narrow streets that blur together, pink and gray and red stone, glinting glass windows, trees with neatly trimmed branches, bare and leafless now that winter is here. The houses get smaller, plainer, the farther away from the market we go. Finally, Lily stops in front of a pale-yellow house, sandwiched between a red one and a gray one. It's only two floors, but it has a cheery blue door with a wreath of hellebore hanging on it.

"Quickly," she says, hurrying up the steps and taking out a key. We slip through the door into a combination of front hall and living area-a smattering of mismatched couches and armchairs surround a low wooden coffee table to my left. Directly in front of me is a set of stairs.

"This way," Lily says, as we run up to the second floor. It's a single hallway, lined with a worn red carpet. All the doors are closed. Lily reaches one hand up, a gesture that makes no sense until I see the dangling rope, then a hatch opens and a ladder descends from the ceiling.

"Up, up, up!" she says. I climb into semidarkness, expecting Lily to follow me. Instead, I turn to find her folding up the ladder.

"I'll be back tonight," she says. Then she closes the hatch before I have a chance to thank her, or ask any questions, or wonder if there might be something to eat up here.

I am sealed off, in an attic, in a strange house, in the Bank.

I am utterly on my own.

EXHAUSTION OVERCOMES ME, AND I FALL ASLEEP DESPITE the ache in my stomach and the fear that clogs my lungs.

I don't remember the last time I slept. Over twenty-four hours, at least. I suppose I needed it. But it doesn't make me feel better.

When I wake, I am completely disoriented. For a second I think I'm in the dungeons, in the palace of the Lake, but then I feel the lumpiness of the ancient, sagging couch I collapsed on, and my eyes adjust, and I remember.

The attic has a musty smell. There is a small, half-moon window that looks out over the street-I can tell from the dimness of the light that evening has fallen. There are several rolled-up rugs piled against one wall. I find some moth-eaten sheets draped over the back of the couch. A broken lamp, a few boxes containing books and some old photographs, an empty birdcage, and stacks of yellowing newspapers are scattered about the narrow space. The ceiling slants sharply downward, so I have to crouch a bit as I silently make my way to the window.

The sound of voices freezes me in place. A man's first, then a woman's. I clap my hands over my mouth, a physical reinforcement to ensure I don't make a sound.

I can't hear what they're saying. I think they're on the ground floor. The voices become more muffled, finally vanishing into some part of the house too far away for me to hear.

The couch springs creak as I sit down. My whole body is trembling. My head throbs and I realize I'm clenching my jaw so hard my teeth are grinding together.

My solitude comes crashing down on me. Where are Raven and Ash? Have they been caught? My empty stomach contracts at the thought of Ash once again thrown into a cell. Ash, with his head on the chopping block. Raven, sent back to the House of the Stone. Or worse-side by side on a matching block with Ash.

I squeeze my eyes shut and will the images to disappear. I don't know anything and thinking the worst will not help. I press the heels of my hands against my eyes and a flurry of sparks appears in the darkness behind my lids.

The base of my skull begins to buzz.

I have a wild, fleeting thought that I've snapped from the stress before I remember the arcana. I gasp and struggle with the knot I made in my hair, so many lifetimes ago, when Annabelle was still alive, and I lived in the Duchess's palace.

I finally tug it free, barely feeling the sharp sting when a few hairs come out with it. It rises in the air, hovering inches away from my face.

"Lucien?" I whisper.

His voice comes across immediately. "Where are you?"

"I . . . I'm . . ." I don't know how to answer him. I have no idea where I am. "I'm in the Bank."

"What happened? Why didn't you make it to the safe house with the others?"

"I got-oh, Lucien, are Raven and Ash okay? Are they there?"

"Yes, but what happened to you?" Lucien's voice is clipped, impatient.

Raven and Ash are all right. They're safe. My legs melt into the couch.

"We got separated," I say. "And then I ran into a friend, another surrogate. Someone I knew from Southgate. I'm hiding in her attic." I want to hold the arcana, cradle it in my hands but I don't know whether touching it will end the communication or harm it in some way.

"What do you mean? Who is she?"

"I literally ran into her. I knocked her down in the street. I didn't even know she lived around here. But she's a good person, Lucien. She helped me. We can trust her."

"Violet, we don't know who we can trust."

"Well, she was my friend and right now she's all I've got."

"She doesn't have a key. You must always ask about the key."

"Garnet doesn't have a key."

"Did you ask him if he does?"

". . . no."

There's a long pause.

"What is your friend's last name?"

"Deering," I say. "Her name is Lily Deering."

"Lily Deering," he repeats. "I'll find out where you are." He sounds disgruntled.

"We did everything we were supposed to," I insist. "Someone recognized him."

"I'm glad you're safe." I can sense Lucien holding back what he'd really like to say, and again, I worry that he'd be happier if Ash had been arrested in that market. If that was what he intended all along. "We'll speak again soon."

"Wait!" After everything I've been through, I'm tired of all the mystery. I deserve some answers. "I've followed your orders. I've done what you asked, but you haven't given me a single, solid reason why. Why is this worth it? Why am I worth it?"

There is another long pause.

"Are you happy with the way this city is run, Violet?"

"You mean, the royalty? You know I how I feel about them."

Lucien sighs. "You are not seeing the larger picture. This is not just about surrogates. This is about an entire population enslaved to serve the needs of the few. And it gets worse with every passing year. You have a power that you cannot even begin to comprehend. I am trying to help you realize that and do some good with it."

"And yet, you don't tell me what you want, or what that power is, or how I'm supposed to help. Let me help, Lucien."

"Do you honestly think that all the Auguries are good for is making healthy royal children?"

I suppose I hadn't really thought about it. I don't like using the Auguries at all, so I never considered there could be another purpose for them. But I was able to put that fire out. Well, with Raven's help.

Lucien takes my silence as an answer. "Exactly. You have more power than you think, but I am not the one who can show you how to use it."

"And once I know how to use it, then what?"

"Help me. Help me tear down these walls that confine us, that separate us. Help me save not only the surrogates but everyone who is under the royalty's thumb. The ladies-in-waiting. The servants. The factory workers who die of black lung, the farmhands who feed the royals but barely have enough to eat themselves. The children dying from lack of basic necessities in the Marsh. I am not the only one who thinks the royalty's time is coming to end. We have all been bound to them in some way. We have all suffered for them." He says that last part so softly, I barely hear him. "We deserve to be free."

I think about Annabelle, so sweet and frail. I see the bloody gash across her neck and have to shut my eyes for a moment, swallowing back a sob. What was her crime? Nothing. Being my friend. Annabelle did not deserve to die. And no one will be punished for her death. The Duchess will go on as if it had never happened.

I think about Hazel-how much longer will my little sister be able to stay in school? How long until she has to join Ochre, working to keep my family alive?

How much longer before she is forced to take the blood test for surrogacy? The thought sets my stomach in knots. I picture Hazel ripped from my family, arriving at Southgate, alone, afraid. I see her nose bleeding as she learns the Auguries, see her standing on that silver X on the platform at the Auction House. Hazel cannot be a surrogate.

But I don't see how I can help them. I hate that I'm stuck in this attic, alone and powerless. Lucien seems to sense my hesitancy.

"I don't expect you to understand everything right now. Keep the arcana close. Someone will come for you."

I open my mouth to argue but find I'm too tired. "Okay," I agree.

"Get some sleep, honey. You've had a long day." There is another pause. "And remember. Don't trust anyone until they show you the key."

The arcana drops into my open hands, leaving me with even more questions than I started. I sigh and secure it back into my hair.

I'M IN THAT STRANGE STATE BETWEEN WAKING AND dreaming when Lily comes to see me.

It's very late. There's hardly any light in the attic, just a tiny sliver of moonlight on the floor by the window. I'm lying on the couch, my thoughts tangled up in dark tunnels and dying fires and Annabelle and wanted posters, when the hatch creaks open.

I sit up so quickly it makes me dizzy. A flickering light illuminates Lily's face as it pops up through the hole in the floor. She climbs into the attic, carrying a tray laden with two small jars, a glass of water, a fat white candle, and-my stomach groans-a covered plate that brings the faintest scent of cooking.

"Hi," she whispers, setting the tray down on the floor. I practically fall off the couch toward the food. Lily's brought me several slices of pot roast smothered in thick brown gravy and cold boiled potatoes. I want to ignore the utensils and shove the food hand over fist into my mouth.

"When was the last time you ate?" she asks.

"I don't know," I say through a mouthful of potato.

Lily lets me eat in silence until the plate is clean. I let out an involuntary sigh and lean back against the couch.

"Thank you," I murmur, taking a huge gulp of water.

Lily moves the tray aside. "I brought these for your face," she says, unscrewing the tops of the jars of cream. One she spreads on my cheek-it sends a pleasant, cooling sensation through the bruise. Ice ointment. I remember when Cora, the Duchess's lady-in-waiting, used it, after the Duchess hit me for the first time. The second one smells sharply antiseptic, and Lily dabs it on the cut on my lip. It stings a little.

"There," she says. "That bruise should be gone by tomorrow."

She replaces the caps on the jars, covers the empty plate, and pushes the tray aside. Then she sits up on her knees and looks at me with wide blue eyes.

"So," she says, in a tone of voice I know so well, one that I heard countless times, whenever a new issue of The Daily Jewel arrived, or the lot numbers were given out, or any particularly juicy bit of gossip reached her ears. "What happened?"

I'm so full and exhausted, and I can't bear to lie anymore. I tell her everything-almost. I don't mention Lucien by name, only insinuate that someone inside the Jewel helped me escape, and I don't tell her where I'm going (not that I know myself). I tell her about Raven, and how I helped her instead of my taking the serum. Lily practically cries when I tell her I was bought by the Duchess-"A Founding House? Oh, Violet!"

And then I tell her about Ash.

"Shhhh!" I hiss as she lets out a yelp.

"You're the surrogate?" Lily whispers. "But . . . but they're saying he raped you, Violet."

"That's a lie," I say vehemently.

"But did you . . . I mean, you didn't have . . .

I nod.

Lily gasps and her hands fly to her chest. "It's like . . . it's like . . . the most forbidden romance ever. It's better than the Exetor and the Electress!"

I smile at the simplicity of it. "I'll tell you about it later," I say. After all that food, it's a fight to keep my eyes open. "Where are we?"

"Thirty-Four Baker Street. It's not the nicest part of the Bank, but it's prettier than the Marsh, isn't it? Some people call this area the Cheap Streets," Lily says with an indignant sniff. "But I think it's very pleasant."

"Who do you live with?" I ask. "Are they nice?"

"Oh, they're lovely," she gushes. "Reed and Caliper Haberdash. Caliper's a wonderful mistress-she's quite old, almost thirty, and she and Reed have been saving up for ages to buy a surrogate. She can't have babies of her own." Lily's face darkens. "Not like the way the royalty can't-there's something wrong with her body. She's very sad about that." Then she perks up. "I sold for nine thousand seven hundred diamantes. Can you imagine? How much were you?"

I shift uncomfortably. "I don't remember." I don't want to talk about the price of my body. It doesn't matter much whether I sold for six million or six hundred diamantes. There's something more important that she needs to know.

"Lily," I say, "you can't get pregnant."

She looks offended for a moment, then laughs. "Of course I can! What a silly thing to say. That's what we're here for, isn't it?"

"No, I mean-" I grab her wrist and hold it tight. "Don't let them get you pregnant."

"Violet, you're hurting me," she says, wrenching her arm out of my grasp.