“Get off, Ansel—”

“I’m trying—”

“Who are you? You aren’t supposed to be up here—”

“Excuse me!” We looked up as one toward the tinny voice. It belonged to a frail, teetering old man in white robes and thick spectacles. He held a Bible in one hand and a curious device in the other: small and metal, with a sharp quill at the end of a cylinder.

Shoving them both away and climbing to my feet, I searched frantically for something to say, for some reasonable explanation as to why we were wrestling in the middle of . . . whatever this was, but the guard beat me to it.

“I’m sorry, Your Reverence.” The boy shot us each a resentful look. His collar had creased his cheek during his nap, and a bit of drool had dried on his chin. “I have no idea who this girl is. Ansel let her in here.”

“I did not!” Ansel colored indignantly, still out of breath. “You were asleep!”

“Oh, dear.” The old man pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose to squint at us. “This won’t do. This won’t do at all.”

Throwing caution to the winds, I opened my mouth to explain, but a smooth, familiar voice interrupted.

“They’re here to see me, Father.”

I froze, surprise jolting through me. I knew that voice. I knew it better than my own. But it shouldn’t have been here—in the heart of Chasseur Tower—when it was supposed to be hundreds of miles away.

Dark, devious eyes settled on me. “Hello, Louise.”

I grinned in response, shaking my head in disbelief. Coco.

“This is highly unusual, Mademoiselle Perrot,” the priest wheezed, frowning. “Private citizens are not allowed in the infirmary without advance notice.”

Coco motioned me forward. “But Louise isn’t a private citizen, Father Orville. She’s Captain Reid Diggory’s wife.”

She turned back to the guard, who stood gaping at her. Ansel wore a similar expression, his eyes comically wide and his jaw hanging open. Dumbfounded. I resisted the urge to stuff his tongue back in his mouth. It wasn’t as if they could even see her figure beneath her enormous white robe. Indeed, the starched fabric of her neckline rose to just below her chin, and her sleeves draped almost to the tips of her fingers, where white gloves concealed the rest. An inconvenient uniform if I’d ever seen one—but a most convenient disguise.

“As you can see,” she continued, skewering the guard with a pointed look, “your presence is no longer required. Might I suggest resuming your post? We wouldn’t want the Chasseurs to learn about this horrible miscommunication, would we?”

The guard didn’t need to be told twice. He hastened back out the door, stopping only when he’d crossed the threshold. “Just—just make sure she signs the register.” Then he closed the door with a rather relieved click.

“Captain Reid Diggory, you say?” The priest stepped closer, tipping his head back to examine me through his spectacles. They magnified his eyes to an alarming size. “Oho, I’ve heard all about Reid Diggory and his new bride. You should be ashamed of yourself, madame. Tricking a holy man into matrimony! It’s ungodly—”

“Father.” Coco placed a hand on his arm and fixed him with a steely smile. “Louise is here to help me today . . . as penance.”

“Penance?”

“Oh, yes,” I added, catching on and nodding enthusiastically. Ansel stared between us with a bewildered expression. I stomped on his foot. Father Orville didn’t even blink, the blind old bat. “You must allow me to atone for my sins, Father. I feel absolutely wretched about my behavior, and I’ve prayed long and hard about how best to punish myself.”

I slipped the last of the Archbishop’s coin from my pocket. Thank goodness Father Orville hadn’t yet noticed my pants. He’d probably have had a fit and died. I stuffed the coin into his palm. “I pray you’ll accept this indulgence to alleviate my sentence.”

He harrumphed but slid it into his robes. “I suppose caring for the sick is a worthy pursuit—”

“Fantastic.” Coco beamed and steered me away before he could change his mind. Ansel trailed behind as if unsure where he was supposed to go. “We’ll read them Proverbs.”

“Mind you follow protocol.” Father Orville gestured to the washroom near the exit, where two pieces of parchment had been affixed to the wall. The first was clearly a register of names. I drifted closer to read the tiny script of the second.

INFIRMARY PROCEDURES—WESTERN ENTRANCE

As decreed by HIS EMINENCE, THE ARCHBISHOP OF BELTERRA, all guests of the cathedral infirmary must present their name and identification to the initiate on duty. Failure to do so will result in removal from the facilities and lawful action.

Feuillemort Asylum representatives—

Please check in at Father Orville’s office. Packages are distributed from the Eastern Entrance.

Clergymen and healers—

Please utilize the register and inspection form located at the Eastern Entrance.

The following procedures must be observed at all times:

1.The infirmary must remain clean and free of debris.

2.Irreverent language and behavior are not tolerated.

3.All guests must remain with a member of staff. Guests found unaccompanied will be escorted from the facilities. Lawful action may be taken.

4.All guests must wear appropriate garments. Upon entry, healers will distribute white robes to don over layperson garments. These robes must be returned to a member of staff before departure from the facilities. These robes aid odor control throughout Cathédral Saint-Cécile d’Cesarine and Chasseur Tower. They are required. Failure to don robes will result in permanent removal from the facilities.

5.All guests must wash thoroughly before departure from the facilities. The guest inspection form is located in the washroom near the Western Entrance. Failure to pass inspection will result in permanent removal from the facilities.

Holy hell. This place was a prison.

“Of course, Father Orville.” Coco grabbed my hand and steered me away from the sign. “We’ll stay out of your hair. You won’t even notice we’re here. And you”—she glanced over her shoulder at Ansel—“run along and play. We don’t require further assistance.”

“But Reid—”

“Come now, Ansel.” Father Orville made to clasp Ansel’s shoulder and found his elbow instead. “Let the young ladies tend the sickbeds. You and I shall join in prayerful communion until they are done. I have accomplished all I can with the poor souls this morning. I regret two are heading for Feuillemort in the morning, as their souls are unresponsive to my healing hand. . . .”

His voice trailed off as he led Ansel down the corridor. Ansel threw a pleading look over his shoulder before disappearing around the bend.

“Feuillemort?” I asked curiously.

“Shh . . . not yet,” Coco whispered.

She opened a door at random and pushed me through. At the sound of our entrance, the man’s head twisted toward us—and kept twisting. We watched in horror, frozen, as he crept from the bed on inverted limbs, his joints bending and popping from their sockets unnaturally. An animalistic gleam lit his eyes, and he hissed, scuttling toward us like a spider.