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shakes me off, retrieves the satchel, and tosses it to me. “There are clothes for all of you in there. Get dressed, quickly. We were going to take the train, but that’snot possible anymore.”
    I unzip the bag and find three pairs of brown woolen pants, three sweaters, and three pairs of shoes. There is also water, a flashlight, bandages, and antiseptic ointment. I use some of the water to wash Annabelle’s blood off my legs, and tend to the wound on Ash’s forehead and cheek. His eye is still swollen and I smear antiseptic around it.
    “You, too,” he says, dabbing some ointment on my cut lip. It stings a little.
    Once we’re dressed, I turn to Raven. She’s still staring at the ceiling.
    “Should we—” Ash begins.
    “No, I’ll do it,” I say. I look at him, then Lucien. “Turn around, please.” Raven might not be fully aware, but I know she would not want two strange men seeing her naked. I maneuver her into the pants—she is so light, so thin—but the sweater proves more difficult.
    “Oh, Raven, can you sit up?” I mutter without any real hope. So I’m shocked when she does.
    “Violet?” she says. Her eyes are bright, like they used to be.
    “Put this on,” I say, holding out the sweater.
    “I’ve never been in this room before,” she says, looking around as I put the shoes on her feet and help her off the metal slab. “It’s very shiny.”
    “This is the friend you asked about, I assume,” Lucien says. “The Countess of the Stone’s surrogate?”
    “This is Raven,” I say.
    “I’m Raven,” she repeats.
    “And you gave her the serum intended for you.”
    My spine straightens. “I did.”
    He raises his eyes to the ceiling. “Of all the surrogates in that Auction,” he mutters. “Leave the coat here, I’ll be back for it. I’ll need to clean that up, too.” He glances at the puddle of Raven’s vomit and shakes his head. “This would have been so much easier if you’d listened to me.”
    Ash stuffs our nightclothes in the satchel and throws the strap over his chest. Lucien leads us out of the room and down the hall to another door marked DANGER: RESTRICTED . It isn’t locked, which I find strange, and Lucien opens it easily.
    Immediately, I am assaulted by a wave of intense heat and the scent of something burning. The room is empty except for a cast-iron behemoth with a large door set in its center.
    “This is what’s happening,” Lucien says. “Your absences have been discovered. For reasons I can only assume stem from self-preservation, the Duchess has not revealed that you, Violet, are missing. She has accused him”—he jerks his head in Ash’s direction—“of rape. A companion sleeping with any unsterilized female is a criminal act, but add to it that the female in question is a surrogate . . . well, the royalty are out for blood. All trains have been stopped in and out of the Jewel. Every available Regimental is combing the streets searching for him. In a few hours, his photograph will be posted in every circle of this city.”
    I feel hollowed out. “So what do we do?”
    Lucien turns the handle on the cast-iron door and opens it. A wall of brilliant yellow flame burns inside, making the room even hotter. “This incinerator leads directlyto the sewer system. You can at least make it to the Bank through the tunnels—the sewers for the lower circles aren’t connected to these. There’s a map in that bag. I’ve outlined your path in red. I’ll have an associate waiting for you in the Bank, and we’ll go from there.”
    “How will I know who your associate is?”
    “Ask them to show you the key.”
    “What key?”
    “You’ll know it when you see it.” He pauses. “You didn’t, by some small miracle, happen to bring the arcana with you?”
    “I did!” I exclaim, putting a hand to my messy bun. “It’s in my hair.”
    Lucien smiles, a real, warm smile. “Good girl. I can track you using that.”
    “But . . .” I glance at the leaping