She’d promised, but it wasn’t fair. She wanted to go to secret places, too. She’d spotted the professor, Miss Goodgrave, and Mr. Harlowe going through the hidden passage in the library. It had been after her bedtime when she wasn’t supposed to be up, but sometimes she couldn’t sleep and was bored. She’d been in the parlor across from the library at the time, pretending to be taking tea with the important ladies of the city. When she heard footsteps, she turned off her light and hid and watched. She never figured out how they opened the secret door or where they went. What did they do when they got there, wherever there was? She wanted to know.

Well, if Miss Goodgrave got to sneak around, so did she. She’d show them. She’d show them all.

She picked among her rumpled dresses and found her coat. She pulled it on, then slipped her feet into her everyday shoes, not the nice shiny ones Mirriam said were only for special occasions. Then Arhys changed her mind and kicked off the old ones. She would wear the nice ones if she wanted to.

The eleven hour bell had rung. It was again past her bedtime, but it had never stopped her before. She crept out of her room, down the stairs, and to the front door. She turned the lock and let herself out.

She stood frozen on the front step. She had never gone out this late on her own. Never. She looked nervously up and down the street. The lamps were bright, but cast shadows against the houses and fences, beneath trees and shrubbery. Anything could hide in those shadows and leap out at her.

But the emperor wouldn’t let that happen, would he? That’s why there were so many Inspectors out at night, right? To keep away monsters and bad men? Reassured, she set off.

It took her longer than she thought, walking past so many houses with their darkened yards. Her good shoes hurt her feet, and she was sorry she hadn’t worn her old pair. Angry, she splashed in a muddy puddle.

It was not until she reached the last house at the end of the street that she finally encountered an Inspector patrolling with his Enforcer. The Enforcer shone dully beneath the light of a streetlamp.

“There, young miss, what are you doing out at this late hour?”

Arhys strode right up to him, faltering only when she neared the Enforcer. The Enforcer tilted its eyepiece so it could look down at her. The lens in its eye whirred as it focused on her.

I am not afraid, she told herself, but the Enforcer was so much bigger close up.

“Say,” the Inspector said, “aren’t you Arhys? The little girl who works at Professor Josston’s?”

She gazed up at the Inspector. He was impressive with his red uniform, shiny buttons, and the weapons on his belt. She recognized him—Inspector Gant. He’d come to the professor’s house before.

“Yes, sir,” she said as sweetly as she could manage. “There is something I need to tell you. I want to tell you about the professor.”

FOUND

Karigan was out of bed before the first strike of the midnight bell faded. When she left her room that final time, she took nothing with her except the map of the Capital, the mirror shard, the bonewood, and a canvas satchel she’d found in the downstairs cloak room. She left behind the comfortable bed, the silly novels Mirriam had given her in her early days here, and a wardrobe filled with skillfully tailored dresses, hats, shoes, and gloves. And veils. Oh, yes, she was certainly leaving behind the veils.

She was well-practiced by now in sneaking around the house at the deepest hours of night, though she had been chagrined to learn that Mirriam and Arhys had both observed her nocturnal activities. She resolved to be extra careful, knowing the professor could also be prowling about on his own business.

Taper in hand, she descended the stairs, and crept into the library. Taking more care than usual, she made sure Arhys was nowhere to be found. Then she went to the dragon on the bookshelf, twisted its tail, and the secret passage opened. When the bookcase swung closed behind her, she finally felt totally committed. She would have to come back to the house one last time, however, because she believed the doors to the old mill were boarded shut and she could not exit through them. Plus, she needed Raven.

She hastily changed from her nightgown into her black swordswoman garb and began the long descent into the underground. This was her first time taking the route on her very own. Well, the first time had been sort of on her own. But she’d followed the professor and Cade, and they’d been awaiting her at the other end. What if the professor was there now? What if he came after her and found her in the old mill? Well, they’d have it out. He could not force her to stay and play his mad niece for the rest of her life. She’d rather live in the tombs.

If need be, she had the skills to extricate herself forcibly from the professor’s control, but she’d prefer an amicable parting. He’d been good to her. He had protected her and taken her into his home and his confidence. By sneaking out, she did not have to take the chance of a confrontation of any kind.

The underground was as she remembered—dark and haunting, the light of her taper reflecting on dusty windows. “I will see this the way it’s supposed to be when I get home,” she said, but her voice sounded tiny, doubtful.

She hurried on past the remains of the Cock and Hen, past the harness shop and all those buildings she had once known above ground and exposed to the sky.

• • •

Once she climbed up into the old mill, she had the sense of trespassing. The old building was dark. No one awaited her, no one had accompanied her or given her permission to enter. She felt uncomfortable and very alone as her feet clunked on wrought iron steps. Where once she’d been accustomed to being so often alone as a messenger, she had now become used to being around people in the professor’s house and escorted whenever she left. She’d been made too comfortable and protected. Perhaps less confident.