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In an alternate world, far removed from this one, he could imagine how she might use that. How she might sneak out into the night like a wraith, knowing he’d been lured to sleep.

But now, in this room, it was unthinkable.

“Long day?” Nina murmured, and the sound of her voice was a vise.

He sighed. Closed his eyes. “There’s been some trouble,” he said. “I had to make some last-minute arrangements.”

She tensed slightly in his arms. “Arrangements?”

“Mm hmm,” he assented. And then he waited.

And for a moment it seemed as though she would say nothing more, and the knots in his chest began to unwind.

“What arrangements?” she asked. “What trouble?”

“Just some things the boys can take care of. I’ve asked Otto and Scottie to see to it.” He opened his eyes to find her expression blank, her eyes unreadable in the dark. “Nothing to worry about.”

She was quiet for a moment, and then she kissed him, warmth spreading from her lips into his, and he was instantly filled with the desire to press her back into that mattress, to taste the entire length of her.

Instead, he let her pull away. He listened as her breaths grew longer, slower.

He dreamed of walls closing in.

CHAPTER 57NINA

Shortly after midnight, the parchment I’d folded and hidden in my sock crackled softly, and I woke on the cusp of a dream.

Patrick’s lips were parted in sleep. I untangled my limbs from his with acute slowness, watching his face the entire time, ensuring it did not twitch.

I pulled the fold of parchment out inch by inch and unfolded it just the same—as though it were a trip wire. Polly’s tiny scrawl now appeared.

Eastern tunnel. One hour.

I shuddered delicately.

The eastern tunnel led to Dorser, out to the seaways, not Dunnitch.

There are a million ways for this to go wrong, rang Polly’s voice in my mind. I swallowed, looked back at Patrick one last time, then made myself stand. Dress. Patrick’s pocket watch ticked down the hour.

When I finally slipped out of number fifteen, my belly rolled with sick.

Go back inside, the deepest parts of me begged. For several long moments I stood frozen, at war with myself. I even turned back and let my forehead rest against the paint. I traced the brass numbers one and five. I thought of every reason not to go.

But there was that train hurtling down the tracks toward me, and a reutterance of Polly’s voice whisperedThey’re coming.

You could tell him everything, I thought.Tell him that Tanner won’t attackKenton Hill if he has his Alchemist. Patrick will make the trade to save this town. He’ll listen. He loves you.

But telling him the truth would mean confessing myself an infiltrator. And would his love hold, if he knew why I’d come to Kenton Hill?

If not, would he take my life as routinely as the next traitor?

And so that was that. All the sand heaped the bottom of the hourglass.

I buttoned my coat to the throat, spared Sam’s vacant seat a fleeting glance, and began the descent downstairs.

With every creak I was sure I’d be found out, that some door would swing open and catch me. I carried my boots in my hands, and yet still, it seemed every board was determined to creak beneath my feet.

The pub was quiet and silver with moonlight. I wove through the beams like a thief, as though the shadows would render me invisible. Isaiah barely lifted his head at my presence. He’d lowered it to the floor again before I’d made it to the door.