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“I read a lot.”

“I remember.” He said nothing more for a moment, tapping the unlit cigarette against his thigh. “This here is a fine window.” He gestured to the pane. “One can see for miles.”

I felt each muscle in my body tighten. It took colossal effort to unlock my jaw. “And if I should grow tired of the view?”

“Then you’ll need to break down the door and hope Sam is feelin’ generous enough to let you pass. Though I wouldn’t wager it if I were you. I’ve paid him to drag you back in, should you try it.Don’t try it, miss, for my sake. One knock on the head is regrettable, two would begin to make me question my honor.”

So I was a prisoner, then, as I’d suspected. My lip curled. “I thought I was free to take the next train out?”

“Ah,” he said. “I’m afraid I lied about that, too. We’ve repurposed the trains and their tracks.”

My mouth fell open.

He didn’t smile as he spoke. “We can both act, Nina, only I didn’t need a fancy school to teach me.”

“Fuck you.”

He twirled the cigarette in his fingers and looked out the window once more, thinking. It was a while before he spoke again.

My head pounded. I wished he would leave.

“You speak different,” he said into the small space. “Stand different.” There was no inflection to it. I couldn’t tell if it was an insult or something else. “You’ve got that high-society swagger now. Nose in the air.” He allowed his eyes to travel openly over me. They stuck to that place on the inside of my forearm, where an ugly, shapeless scar contorted the skin. “But you didn’t join ’em, did you?”

I wondered if he spoke to himself or to me. We held that gaze for an interminable time, trying to peel back the layers of each other and find something recognizable beneath. Trying to make sense of our paths that had diverted so wildly and yet somehow rejoined.

Bellowing inside me was the insistence to run while I still could.

He said, “I need you to stay inside this room, in this buildin’. It’s important that you don’t go farther, miss. Do you understand?”

“I understand plenty,” I said between clenched teeth. The effect was dampened by my sudden swaying. It seemed my legs were finally beginning to give out.

Patrick took two short strides toward me, his hands reaching my shoulders before I teetered over. “Whoa there,” he grunted, then cursed softly.

I found myself sitting on the bed, dizzy now.

“Someone will bring up a plate of food,” said a voice, its direction unclear to me. “Rest, Nina. I’ll have a doctor visit you in the morning.”

“Don’t need a doctor,” I murmured, words blending.

“Nevertheless, one will be sent. For now, take this.” He handed me a corked amber bottle. Its glass was emblazoned with the wordsINK TINCTURE. Bluff.

My eyes closed of their own accord. I unstoppered the bottle and brought it to my lips, grateful for the medicine.

But the liquid, I realized with aching slowness, did not taste of bluff. It was metallic. Icy cold.

Idium.

My eyes opened, and I found Patrick watching me warily.

“So then, you have the Alchemist.” I said, only it came out slurred. “The rumors are true.”

I fell back onto the covers, the bowed ceiling sinking closer and closer.

“Rest.” His voice was deeper, hypnotic even. “I need you ready for what’s comin’. You’re safe here, I promise.”

Nowhere was safe.

A sigh, and then a hand swept tangles of damp hair from my forehead, and I could not tell if it was my own or that of another. Darkness smothered sensation, and I gladly curled into its embrace.