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“And she didn’t care that humans moved in?”

“They don’t seem to hold the same attachment to places we do.” A rumbling clang echoed from within the wall, and from a pipe laid into the edge of the basin a gurgle of steaming water gushed. Orpheus nearly jumped out of the pool before realizing what it was. Fresh hot water flooded the basin, bringing the temperature up a few extra degrees before shutting off again.

“They also seem convinced it’s haunted, so I don’t think they were all too surprised when it disappeared.”

“Of course, the storybook city with the Gothic cathedral at its heart a gaggle of dark mages summoned from Hell is haunted.”

Atticus chuckled, a darkly indulgent sound. “You should have seen it when it was entirely lit up with Netherflame.”

All hells, he almost could. Sigils illuminated in a fiery scrawl, hundreds of power cells like the one he’d gotten working beading the tallest towers, spires arcing with wild, violet light, like some weathervane that could pierce worlds. It’d have been a sight to see. One he would have liked to, under different circumstances. To think that Lore had kept this from him. Orpheus was suddenly unsure if she’d been aware of Sanctuary itself or just that people existed somewhere beyond the Rim. There was so much he didn’t know. So much he’d recently learned. To have it all come crashing down on his head because of a past he wanted no part in felt like the most brutal betrayal of them all.

They could have been allies, under different circumstances. Worked together towards what appeared to be the same goal, if fate hadn’t kept them apart.

Then Orpheus remembered the smoke and the wails and the collapsed stage. The bit they’d shoved between his teeth, and the broken fingers and his fractured leg. And he remembered the wife Atticus had lost. The woman Fenrir had killed, and he knew too much had gone wrong for either side to go back and start over again.

But yet, here he was, his secret unveiled, and Atticus had not hurt him.

“I wanted to thank you for today,” rose with the steam, the dark water a bottomless ocean between them. “You could have made that go very differently and you didn’t, and you’ve helped Sanctuary whether that was your intention or not.”

“It wasn’t,” Orpheus admitted. “I’m simply too cowardly to die.”

Atticus raised an eyebrow. “You think yourself a coward?”

“How many times have you seen me cry?” Atticus actually appeared to be counting, and Orpheus snarled, “Don’t answer that.”

“Regardless, we had an agreement, and you’ve honored it well.”

“I lied to you.”

Atticus pursed his lips, then shrugged. “You had your reasons.”

No. No. Atticus was far too agreeable. There had to be a catch. Some ulterior motive driving him to treat Orpheus as someone other than his enemy. But hadn’t he been doing that for weeks? The prison cell may still be his home, but Atticus had not stripped him of all his dignity. He too had his reasons, but threatening his life was more than enough to force Orpheus’ cooperation.

“You aren’t mad I’ve been teaching Gwen?”

“Gwen is a clever girl, and I would be remiss to hold you responsible for that. I am certain you are but a victim of her devious plot.”

Atticus was so close to the truth Orpheus couldn’t help but laugh.

Water shot up his nose, sharp and stinging.

“I am not surprised she found a way to you, she’s quite good at getting what she wants.”

She more than found a way. But Orpheus wasn’t going to give up Gwen’s secrets. He owed her that much.

“And it’s something I think should continue, perhaps in a more formal capacity.”

Orpheus went still, watching the steam curl. “You want me to teach her?”

“It seems to be our only option, doesn’t it? All my attempts have failed.”

“You mean The Architects’ attempts?”

A beat of silence, then Atticus nodded. “Yes, the Architects.”

Orpheus sank deeper into the water, little waves crashing over his chin.

Atticus watched him like a hawk does a mouse. “You fear them.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.