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A low ceiling domed over me. I was in the carrières, and from the number of dreamscapes, I was directly under the citadel once more, far away from the hellfire in Versailles.

I smelled fibrin gel. When I could muster the strength, I slid my bare leg out from under the sheets and saw a livid stripe on my calf, lined with stitches. Bandages wrapped my wrist and waist.

I was alive.

And Sheol II was gone.

Weakness bound me to the rug. I thought of the voyants we had left in the colony, what horrors they might be facing now. As I floated in a doze, I was aware of someone trimming the candles. A hand on my forehead. Blankets wrapping the cold log of my body.

And finally, a voice.

“Paige.”

Slowly, I turned my head. Nadine peered into the cave. She wore a knitted gray dress over tights, and her hair fell in damp waves to her jaw.

“Are you awake?” she whispered.

“Just.” My throat was dry as sawdust. “Never thought I’d ask this again, but is there any water?”

She disappeared. With effort, I lifted my right hand to see a small dressing where a cannula had been. I was wearing a camisole and shorts with a button-down shirt over the top. From the size of the shirt, it belonged to Léandre.

Nadine returned with a goblet, which she helped me hold and drink. “Where are we?” I asked.

“Paris,” she said. “Le Vieux Orphelin has his own little system of carrières under Passy—his appartements privés.” Her accent was crisp. “Only his gang know about it. And now us.” She sat on the patterned rug beside me. “I cannot believe you chose this moment to wake up.”

“Sorry. I’ll go back to the brink of death.”

“I’m serious. Warden has barely left your side, and the minute he agrees to go back to the surface, you open your eyes.” She shook her head at me. “Poor timing, Mahoney.”

Shadowed memories of his presence crossed my mind. “Why has he gone to the surface?”

“Because we’re down to the last crumbs of food. He took pity on all our sad faces and said he’d get some.” Seeing my expression, she said, “I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

The Rag and Bone Man was still out there. He had caught Arcturus before.

“Yes,” I said.

I tried to sit up. Nadine put down her mug of tea to help me.

“You’ve been out of action for a week,” she told me, and gave me another sip of water. (A week. Ducos would have returned from her assignment.) “We think something down there got into the cut on your leg, and Warden said you were already sick. Even when he got your medicine from the surface, I didn’t think you’d make it. God knows how you did.”

I managed to shift onto my side, leaning on my elbow. “The æther must not want me yet.”

“You’re lucky that puncture in your back didn’t get infected, too,” Nadine said. “Whatisthat?”

“Had to have my lung tapped.” I scraped back my greasy hair. “They waterboarded me. In December.”

“Jesus. Sorry, Paige.”

“Thanks.” Now that I was used to the candlelight, I took a proper look at Nadine. She was a little thinner than she had been when I last saw her, her hair a little longer. “How are you?”

Slowly, Nadine picked her tea up again. “Better than I was in the tunnels. Warden had to carry me up the mine shaft,” she said. “Still, I can’t say it was a great hardship, clinging to such a fine pair of shoulders.” I returned her smile. “Now I’m just . . . tired. So damn tired.”

She sipped her tea. Her lips gave the faintest quiver.

“The new Bone Season hadn’t officially started,” she said, more to herself than to me, “so we didn’t have to fight the Emim. And Zeke and I were only there for a few weeks.”

“Doesn’t matter how long you were there. A day or a year, you learned how it feels to be among indifferent gods.”