“Me too. She said—” I pull my knees up to my chest. “She said you’re keeping a secret from me. Is it about the prophecy? Did you—did you see me hurting Maura?”

“No.” Tess grabs my knee. “It’s not that.”

“What, then? Brenna—she worried it would break you.”

“It feels that way sometimes.” Tess gives a sad little laugh. It’s too grown-up for a twelve-year-old. Too bitter. “I’m not ready to tell you yet. Give me a little more time?”

I want to press, demand that she tell me everything now. Is it something to do with Finn? With me? But Tess is clever. I have to trust that she’ll tell me when she’s ready. When it’s right.

“All right,” I agree slowly. “But you will tell me?”

The look in Tess’s eyes is terrible. “I don’t see how I can avoid it forever.”

Chapter 9

I’M BALANCING A PLATE ON MY KNEES, spooning up mashed sweet potatoes, when the front door crashes open. Heart hammering, I jump up so quickly that my napkin and dinner roll go flying to the floor. I set the plate on the tea table and rush out of the parlor into the front hall, Mei right behind me. The rest of the convent is having supper, but we’ve been in here, worriedly keeping watch for—

Elena. She’s propped against the heavy front door as though it’s the only thing preventing her from collapse. There are six—no, seven—girls with her, all cloaked in black. One of them sinks to the floor with a moan. Another hobbles to the stairs and sits on the bottom step with the help of two friends. The rest seem overwhelmed, their frightened eyes darting around the gloom of the front hall.

“Thank the Lord,” I murmur, torn between the urge to shake Elena and embrace her. “Are you all right? What happened? I’ve been so worried! It’s been hours.”

Elena gives me a tired smile. “Will you tend to Jennie and Dora? They’re hurt, and my magic . . .” She waves a hand. “Sarah Mae’s got a bad bump on her head, too, where some oaf knocked her with the butt of his rifle.”

“I’ll take a look at it.” Mei kneels by the girl on the floor. “Do you think you can make it to the healing classroom? It’s right down the hall. I can fix you up there, and I’ll ask someone to bring us hot cocoa and some leftover supper.”

The girls look at Elena, who nods approval. “Go with Mei. I’ll be along in a minute.”

They scurry after Mei. Now that I see their faces, I recognize two of them—Jennie Sauter, who’s from a farm outside Chatham, and Sarah Mae, a girl I met in the uncooperative ward. The one who buried dead birds on her afternoon constitutionals.

These girls make seventeen. Seventeen prisoners saved out of sixty. That’s a sizable portion. I feel a great glad swell of relief that they’re here and they’re safe.

“What happened?” I ask again.

Elena rubs a weary hand over her face. “As soon as I got out of the square, I grabbed two girls and hid them in the storeroom of a shop on Second Street. I stood in the doorway and plucked more as they went by. A guard was chasing Dora and it’s a mercy he didn’t shoot her before I compelled him. Between that and the magic in the square, I couldn’t cast for hours. Dora’s leg’s broken, Jennie’s been shot, and Sarah Mae says she’s all right but I think she’s concussed. I thought it best to wait until it was dark and I was rested enough to disguise them. Loads of guards are still out, though. One saw Dora limping and was about to question us. If it hadn’t been for Sarah Mae’s quick thinking . . .” Elena shivers. “It was a close call. Too close.”

“I’m glad you’re all right,” I say, a little surprised by the force of my relief. “Is Sarah Mae a witch?”

Elena runs a hand through her black curls, which have come undone from their careful pompadour. They fall over her shoulders in perfect, tight black ringlets, and I realize I’ve never seen her with her hair down before. “No. She threw a rock that shattered a streetlamp and sent the guard running in the opposite direction. I don’t think any of these girls are witches.”

“Why would you risk your life for them, then?” Maura stomps around the corner, her face puffy, eyelids pink and swollen from crying.

“Maura—” Elena begins.

“No! I don’t care what you’re about to say, what reason you have. It’s not sufficient. You cannot go around putting yourself in danger like this. I won’t allow it!” Maura stamps one foot, clad in a pretty pink slipper that matches the sash at her waist.

I expect Elena to argue with her, to insist that Maura hasn’t got any say over what she does or does not do. Instead, a tiny smile plays over her lips. “Is this your way of saying you were worried about me?”

“Of course I was worried about you!” Maura plants her hands on her hips. “I used to think you were clever, you know. But you’re nothing but a—a fool! Good Lord, what were you thinking?” She turns to me, eyes like ice, and I brace myself. “You weren’t thinking, obviously. Just following Cate’s orders.”

Elena laughs. “Maura. Call me all the names you like, but you can’t blame this on Cate.”

“Of course she can,” I mutter. “She always finds a way.”

“You should know better than anyone that I don’t follow orders well.” Elena’s chocolate eyes rest on my sister’s face. “Everything I did today, I did because my own conscience told me it was the right thing to do.”

“Then you’re a complete imbecile,” Maura says. “The entire point of being a witch is that we can protect ourselves! Letting yourself get so drained that you couldn’t even compel—”

“I’m fine,” Elena interrupts, voice soft. She lays a hand on Maura’s ruffled emerald sleeve. “I’m safe.”

Maura’s cheeks go pink. “Well, good.” Her eyes fall to the wooden floor. “You’re one of the best witches we’ve got. There are only a handful of us capable of mind-magic, and we’ll need all—”

Elena jerks away as though she’s been burnt. “That’s why you were worried? If I’d been murdered, your army would have one less witch with mind-magic?” She shakes her head, curls tumbling, and finally spares a glance for me. “I’m going to check on the girls. They were terrified half out of their minds on the walk here.”

She turns the corner in four long, angry strides. Maura sputters. “What—what did I do?”

“If you don’t know, then you’re the imbecile.” I pause before following Elena. “She deserves better than you, Maura.”

• • •

“This is like a scene from one of my novels. Sneaking out for a romantic midnight tryst!” Rilla bounces on the leather seat of the carriage.

“It’s only ten o’clock, and it’s hardly going to be romantic.” I fidget with the button on my black satin glove. “I haven’t even figured out what to tell him.”

“You should tell him the truth.” Rilla peers out between the curtains. “I’ve never seen so many guards on patrol. I’ve never been out this late, either. It feels rather scandalous.”