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“Yes. He offered us a deal, which we accepted.”

Without a word, Arcturus came to stand just behind me. I fought to maintain my composure.

“What sort of deal?” I asked, knowing the answer.

“A simple one. Any clairvoyants among us who breach the peace, our new friend can . . . remove. And he pays handsomely.”

I swallowed the first two words I wanted to spit at them.

“You hold with the trafficking of voyants?” I said. “And you accept money from Scion?”

“We accept money from the Man in the Iron Mask. We really care nothing as to its source,” Le Latronpuche said. “He assured us that the voyants receive a home. And a purpose.” He inspected his nails. “Understand that we only alert him to those who richly deserve to be swept from our streets. Murderers. Sadists. Vicious traitors to our syndicate. We take the coin to protect worthier voyants while Inquisitor Ménard does his level best to eradicate us all.”

“You don’t considerthistreachery, then,” I said coldly. “Collusion with the anchor.”

“With a fellow clairvoyant. In exchange for much-needed funds.” He was shameless. “Can you offer us more favorable terms?”

Alsafi was gone, and with him, our financial security. Even if I had been able to match whatever Jaxon was paying, I would not have given tuppence to this pair of traffickers.

“You should know that I have personal experience of the gray market,” I said. “I was sold on it by the late Underlord, Haymarket Hector. Not because I was violent. Not because I betrayed the syndicate. He did it to settle a score with my mime-lord. And because he was greedy.”

“So we heard,” La Reine des Thunes said. “Hector abused the market. We will not make the same mistake.”

“We are very sorry, of course, that you suffered,” Le Latronpuche added. “But be assured,weare careful in our selection. Careful and objective.” He grasped the arms of his throne. “To many of our clairvoyants, you are a hero. A martyr of the revolution. If you find that you can accept our arrangement with the Man in the Iron Mask, we might find ourselves in a position to offer the hand of friendship to the Mime Order. We will not fight alongside you— there is no desire for war here—but we could give sanctuary to you and yours.”

I longed with every twine and sinew of my being to tell them where to shove their friendship.

“We have miles of empty carrières,” La Reine des Thunes said. “With coin from the gray market, we could make them habitable, Underqueen.”

I thought of Glym and Eliza, ruling London in my stead. Even with Senshield deactivated, Scion would smoke the Mime Order out eventually. When the spies undermined it and the soldiers descended in force—and they soon would—how long could it last?

“And if I don’t respect your arrangement?” I said, as calmly as I could. “If I decide to interfere with the gray market?”

“That would be a pity. Close as our two countries are,” Le Latronpuche said softly, “you are still very far from home.”

The threat hung like vapor in the stale air. Le Latronpuche shot me a last, dead-eyed smile.

“We hope you enjoy your stay in our citadel, Underqueen. And that you will respect the peace we have worked so hard to maintain,” he said. “Do return to see us soon. Until then, farewell.”

Behind him loomed Jeanne of Arc, unseeing. I turned my back on the grands ducs and left.

****

Le Trouvère led us out of the carrières, taking a different path from the one Mélusine had used. I had hoped to strike an alliance today. Instead, I had found another corrupt underworld. The grands ducs had all the voyants in Paris under their control, on the streets and far beneath. They could hinder me at every turn.

My muscles scorched with the effort of walking. Just when I thought the nightmare would never end, we half crawled up a final passage and emerged into the fading daylight.

We were under a bridge that crossed what could only be the Petite Ceinture, the derelict railway south of the river. Dead weeds jostled for space between its sleepers. The entrance to the carrières was the narrowest of openings in the ground, impossible to stumble upon by chance.

“Thank you, Underqueen, for gracing our Empire of Death.” With a flourish, Le Trouvère handed back my knife. “Should you wish to return, you need only come to this door. Someone will find you.”

He favored me with a bow and marched away. I waited for him to get well out of earshot before I let my fury rip into a rust-bitten fire bin, which crashed onto its side. The kick burned up the last of my strength, and I slid to the ground, my back against the nearest wall.

Snow formed curtains on either side of the bridge. Arcturus came to sit beside me.

“After everything we did to get the gray market out of London, the Rag and Bone Man just flees the country and starts again under a new name. And now he has another syndicate to feed on.” I closed my eyes. “Jaxon arranged this. His bony fingers are all over this mess.”

“You think he is involved in this branch of the gray market,” Arcturus inferred. “Despite the fact that he now serves the Sargas.”