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She had, of course, stolen it from the archive entrusted with the preservation of the records of the United Kingdom—even if she was quite certain it didn’t belong there.

Ellie could hardly tell Bates that. ‘I stole it’ didn’t sound good no matter how one framed it.

She couldn’t afford to put him off—not when it looked very much like he might be her only hope of finding her city and getting out of this colony alive.

The obvious solution was a lie. It galled her. She was about to ask the man to help her. Surely she owed him better than that?

On the other hand, she barely knew him. Though Bates seemed honorable beneath his appallingly rough edges, surely it was reasonable for Ellie to err on the side of prudence—at least for a little while longer.

“I found the medallion inside an old psalter,” she said. “A family heirloom nobody had ever bothered to open that I picked up at an estate sale.”

“A family heirloom,” he repeated.

She could hear his skepticism. A bit desperately, she waded in deeper.

“My theory is that the book was confiscated from a Spanish ship by an English privateer,” she offered, forcing a bit of cheerful interest into her tone.

“How do you get that from a piece of rock?” Bates returned, puzzled.

“I… don’t,” Ellie admitted. “I get it from this.”

She pulled the map from her pocket.

Bates put down the medallion, took the jeweler’s glass from his eye, and accepted the folded packet.

“Map… signifying… location of… habitatur?” he read, squinting a bit at the faded ink on the outside of the parchment. “Damned Ecclesiastical Latin.”

“Inhabited,” Ellie offered quietly, suppressing a little note of surprise that he could actually read that much of it. She didn’t need to look at the words on the outside of the folded map to remember what they said. “The inhabited kingdom.”

Bates frowned down at the words.

“You have a treasure map,” he said a bit dully.

Ellie stifled an exasperated huff.

“It isnota treasure map,” she retorted.

He frowned at her and moved to open the parchment.

With a quick, panicked instinct, Ellie plucked it from his hands.

“Hey!” he protested.

She held the map protectively to her chest, her heart pounding.

“Do you want me to look at it or not?” he demanded.

“If I show the map to you, that’s it,” she countered, the words spilling out of her with all the force of truth. “You’ll have everything you need to find the city. You won’t need me anymore.”

“I can’t find it at all if you don’t show me the map,” Bates countered crossly.

Ellie clutched the parchment, torn with the impossibility of the situation. Bates was right, of course. She had to give himsomethingif she wanted him to partner with her on this mad quest. She couldn’t possibly expect him to agree based on her word and a lump of stone.

But she knew all too well what would happen if she handed the map over. Even though Bates had proved himself to be a decent fellow—protecting her from Jacobs without a question—he was still a man. He would have been raised all of his life to see women as fragile beings in need of protection… if they weren’t simply to be exploited. Centuries of cultural conditioning couldn’t be overcome on a whim—not even if he meant her well.Meaning her wellcould easily turn intosticking her on a boat back to London.

The solution to the problem crept across her mind. It was simple, really… and it went against her every bone-deep instinct as an archivist charged with a sacred responsibility topreserve.

Ellie opened the folded packet of the map and ripped it neatly in half.