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“I wouldn’t put it past her,” Raven mutters.

“Don’t think your boyfriend slept much, but otherwise everything’s the same. Sienna throwing around attitude and Indi always trying to give me a damned hug. Olive’s started sewing another dress. A ball gown, she says. Asked me if there was any way I could get her some chiffon.”

Raven and Sil have a good chuckle over that, but Olive’s attachment to everything royal makes me nervous, not amused.

Sil loves complaining about the new girls but I think she secretly enjoys the company. She was alone for so long before Azalea, Lucien’s sister, found her.

I start to drift off again as we enter the forest. It’s going to be a warm day—last night’s rain drips from the leaves overhead and Raven pulls up the hood of her cloak. I leave mine down. I love the feel of water in my hair.

The forest grows denser the farther we travel into it. The White Rose is hidden here, protected by some ancient Paladin magic, Sil suspects. She believes they led her to it, to a clearing where nothing but a broken-down farmhouse remained. The trees grow in strange shapes in this forest, their trunks bent at odd angles, their branches sometimes growing straight into the ground.

I feel the tug, the gentle pull in my stomach that signifies that we are close.

Sure enough, a few minutes later we emerge into the clearing, the redbrick farmhouse in its center a welcoming sight. And even more welcoming is the familiar figure standing on the front porch.

Ash is already down the stairs and jogging toward us before we’re halfway across the clearing. I jump down from the bed of the wagon and run to meet him. He lifts me up in his arms and I bury my face into his neck.

“You’re back,” he whispers. I kiss his ear.

“I hope you didn’t worry too much.”

He sets me down on my feet. “I might have slept for an hour or two. That’s an improvement.”

I run my fingers through his hair—it’s gotten longer in the last couple months—then gently touch the shadows under his eyes. He slips his hand into mine and we walk back toward the house. Sil and Raven have already gone inside. I tell him about the last three girls.

“So now all the Southgate surrogates going to the Auction know they are Paladin,” I say. “Any news from the other circles?”

While the Marsh seems to have remained fairly untouched by the strife building in the city, it’s getting bad in the Bank and the Smoke. And even though I understand that this is what a revolution entails, I hate seeing the reports in the papers, the bombings, the damage, the death. Every day we hear about more arrests, more violence. The Society is targeting royal strongholds: Regimental barracks and magistrate offices and banks. Trying to gauge reaction time and keep the royalty confused. Never the same quarter or circle twice in a row. Black keys are scrawled on walls and doors. We’re hearing more and more reports of unplanned violence, of people making attacks on the royalty on their own.

Ash has been training a swath of Society members in this quarter, but his reach is limited, since there’s still a warrant out for his arrest and execution. He can’t go to the other quarters, or into the other circles, like I can.

“Mostly the same.” Ash’s frown is deep. “I can’t stop thinking about the companions. If I could just get to them, they could help us so much.”

“I know,” I say patiently. We’ve had this discussion before. “Lucien says he’s doing all he can for them. But you’re still a fugitive.”

“Lucien isn’t doing anything because he can’t do anything for them. They won’t trust him,” Ash says. “That’s a fact.”

I don’t want to have this argument again. Over the past few months, Ash has grown more and more restless, his concern for the companions rising with each new attack in the Bank.

“But you’re helping so much here,” I say. “Look what you’ve done for Raven, for the Whistler and his crew, for all the Society members in the South Quarter.”

The Whistler, one of Lucien’s top agents, runs a tattoo parlor where the Society meets in secret. My brother, Ochre, works with him now. Ash has been training other young men and women to fight, so they can teach those in the surrounding quarters and circles, since he can’t leave the South Quarter himself.

“Yeah, only in this quarter, and only at night when no one can see me, and only when Sil is going there.” Ash stops and sits down on the front steps, rubbing his temple with the heel of his hand. “Rye is in the Jewel, right in the Duchess’s own home! If I could just . . . contact him somehow. And don’t bring up Lucien again—he’s a genius, but companions are notoriously wary of ladies-in-waiting. They can get you in a lot of trouble if they want.”

It always surprises me when Ash talks about the behind-the-scenes parts of the Jewel. The sniping among the servants or the illicit romances. The hierarchies that exist among the royalty’s underclass.

“You’re doing everything you can,” I say. “Your very name is enough to get people joining our cause.”

Ash has become something of a legend in the Lone City. His wanted status works in our favor. The rogue companion, falsely accused, who escaped the Jewel and the clutches of the royalty—the fugitive who evaded capture. He’s a hero in Society circles.

“So I just sit back and let my name do all the work while companions continue to be abused and are dying?” Ash says.

The life of a companion is a hard one. I was shocked when Ash finally told me about it. They often become suicidal, cut themselves, or get high on a liquid form of opiate called blue. Rye, Ash’s roommate who helped us escape the Bank, was using it when I met him a few months back.

I put my hand on Ash’s neck and try to rub some of the tension away.

“I know it’s hard,” I say. “But it’s the only way. The Bank is too dangerous for you. The White Rose is the only place where you’ll be safe.”