Page 88 of Souvenir Heart

“And where is that?” Marcus asked. “You’ve been noticeably vague.”

Andre shot him a look that was both apologetic and what can you do and said, “Underground.”

“Oh, hell no,” Marcus groaned.

Fifty-Three

Three lanterns and Marguerite’s small bundle of necessities set on the kitchen table was the only remaining evidence that they’d ever been in the house.

“Ready, then?” Andre said.

Marcus shot a glance at Marguerite in her simple dress and sensible shoes, and with only a few rebel curls escaping her neat braid; in all his years of soldiering and spying, he’d never felt less ready. Even after Andre had shown him the maps, told him it was the safest place he could find, and assured him it wouldn’t be that bad.

Bad didn’t even begin to describe how he was feeling.

Marguerite glanced at Marcus, then at Andre. “Doesn’t he…don’t we… need disguises?”

“That’s half the beauty of this place. No need to worry about being seen. We’re not going out, we’re going down.”

Down. The word sank like a stone in his gut.

“Down,” Marguerite repeated, in a tone that reflected only curiosity.

Underground. Marcus felt sweat prickling his temples. Beneath miles of earth. With Marguerite de Rouvroy. Whatever celestial beings had been playing tricks on him, were clearly moving from humor to torture.

“Take a lamp and follow me. And watch your step,” Andre swung open a panel in the rear of the kitchen to reveal a narrow set of stairs.

“Are we going to hide in the cellar?”

Marcus would have welcomed a cellar; he felt fairly certain he could manage that level of darkness, but he knew it would be one of the first places a search party would look for them.

“Not the cellar,” Andre said, leading down the stairs into a narrow space with dirt floors and walls made from a combination of rough limestone, scavenged bricks, and mortar. Marguerite lifted her lamp to investigate. Light glinted on swirling dust motes, bits of mica, and spider-webbed shelves.

“Then…where?”

“You’ll see.”

Damn Andre, the man couldn’t resist a big reveal. Despite the coolness of the cellar, sweat trickled down Marcus’s neck.

One set of shelves had been pulled away from the wall. Beyond it, where there should be a wall, darkness yawned. Far from being frightened, Marguerite reached out a hand and stepped closer.

Clever women, he reminded himself. Easier to rescue than simple ones.

The light of her lantern combined with Andre’s to reveal an earth-packed floor and roughly carved walls.

“A tunnel?” she said with dawning wonder. “I knew there were miles of them under the city—who doesn’t? From all the centuries of mining limestone and gypsum to build it. I must have been about nine when that massive sinkhole opened beneath the Rue de L’Enfer. All those houses, people, carts, animals, vanished beneath the earth in an instant.”

“Horrifying.” She shook her head. “But I have to admit, when I first heard about it, I imagined all of it, the street, its inhabitants, perfectly intact underground. Like a fairy kingdom.”

Fairy…fay. A derivative of the Latin word fata, plural fatum, destiny, fate, that which is ordained. Marcus told himself he didn’t believe in fate.

“I’ve been fascinated by them ever since,” Marguerite added,

“Then you probably know that afterwards, the previous King created a special government bureau to map and maintain the quarries and tunnels,” Andre rattled on. “The work is unfinished, but we were able to get a hold of some of the drawings for it, which is how we discovered this particular tunnel.”

“It hasn’t been used in ages,” Andre continued as he and Marguerite stepped inside. “So, it should be a safe place for you both to hide for a few days. Safer, at any rate, than a house with windows, where a neighbor might catch sight of you and raise questions about strangers occupying the place.”

“It looks rather small,” Marguerite’s voice drifted back to where Marcus was still standing, lantern in hand, at the tunnel’s mouth.