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“How dare you put your foul hands on me?” I made a grab for the sharp letter opener on the desk. “I will send you to the guillotine for this, anormal. When I tell the Inquisitor—”

“Paige?”

We stared at each other through the gloom of the study. “How did you know?” I whispered in English.

“It’s my job to know. I sensed a voyant lurking near the mansion, but I never imagined she was already inside.” He nodded east. “Your body is that way, isn’t it?”

I turned cold to the marrow. “You’re an oracle. You can sense the æther to that extent?”

His smile was grim. “You’re close,” he said. “Very close. Roof of the Swedish Embassy?”

“Is anyone coming?”

“Not yet.” He looked at the blood on his fingers. “There were four hundred people you could have used to spy on him, and you chose her. The person he would raze citadels to protect. You have a death wish, dreamwalker?”

He had sounded English when I met him in the colony. Now he sounded distinctly French.

“I don’t need to wish for death,” I said. “Sooner or later, it always comes back for another go.” I kept a tight hold on the letter opener. “What the hell are you doing here, David?”

“Catching you red-handed, apparently.”

“You work for Ménard now?”

“I always did.”

I didn’t wait for more. Instead, I started to dislocate from Frère.

“Wait,” David hissed, and I stopped halfway into the æther. “Let me give you a gift. For old times’ sake. The gift of choice.”

“Shove it, red-jacket.”

“You came here for a reason. You’re looking for something, and presumably, you haven’t found it. Unless you do as I say, you never will.” His gaze seared into mine. “Ménard suspects.”

“How can you possibly know that?”

“He asked me to check Frère for . . . la tache de l’anormalité. He’s called a doctor for her,” David said under his breath. “You won’t get away with it again. But there is another way.”

“You can pretend you never saw me.” My arm was too weak to break his grip. “Let me get what I need.”

“From his study?” He nodded to the doors. “Anything important will be in the safe.”

“You think I can’t crack a safe?”

“Not this one.”

Elsewhere in the mansion, I sensed another person moving. Apparently he did, too, because he glanced over his shoulder and pulled me close enough to smell the mint on his breath again.

“Listen,” he whispered. “I need to prove my worth to survive in here. So I’ll help you. But first, I need you to do something for me. Let me tell them where you are. Let them detain you.”

“I didn’t come up the Seine on a soap bubble, you shit.” I shoved him away. “That’s not a deal. It’s an execution warrant.”

“Ménard won’t kill you. You’re too valuable. You’ll be imprisoned, like I am—but in a perfect position to spy. And I’ll help you. If that’s what you want.” He drew away. “Allow yourself to be captured.”

“And then what—you’llhelpme onto the guillotine?”

“I’ll help you get out of here. You know about me and Frère. It’s in my interest to keep my word.”

I searched his face for deceit.