"Are you sure you'll be fine on your own?"

  Lumiere stood at the edge of the ptform, mantle fastened, writ secured inside her coat.

  I nodded. "We have enough food to st us the next few days. And water's sorted now, at least."

  "I will return as quickly as I am able," she said. "But some of the things you requested are not common."

  "I know," I said.

  Only she and Bishop Halbrecht were granted authority to open the sealed entrance, so she had volunteered to do our supply runs.

  "There's an apothecary attached to the Cathedral's infirmary," I advised. "If you don't find it there, then try the High Synod's archives. All else failing, just the raw ingredients on that list is fine. I'll handle the rest."

  She inclined her head. "In the tter case, it might be a few days to gather them up. Possibly longer."

  "I'll manage." I smiled faintly. "I've done worse with less."

  That earned me a huff of something like amusement, though it didn't quite reach her eyes.

  Veyne stepped wordlessly onto the ptform behind her, rolling his shoulders as if preparing for a long walk rather than an ascent.

  He had been virtually untouched by the st fight. No limp. No stiffness. No sign of fatigue.

  Naturally, it fell to him to escort Lumiere, in accordance with Halbrecht's directive.

  If the responsibility of guarding the Saintess weighed on Veyne at all, it didn't show. He seemed disinterested as ever, gaze already drifting away from us and toward the shaft above.

  The runes brightened.

  As the elevator began to rise, Lumiere lifted a hand in farewell.

  I waved back, but my attention was focused on a point past her—a shadow slipping onto the ptform.

  Evelyn.

  I caught the briefest of movements as she disappeared off the far edge, quiet and practiced.

  The ptform lifted out of sight. The runes dimmed. The shaft went dark.

  I let out a breath.

  Because of the constraint around the door, opportunities to circle up with her Night Wardens rarely presented themselves.

  I wanted desperately to know more about the situation outside, and the men who had been sent down here with us. I certainly didn't trust them enough to leave Lumiere with them alone.

  I reached into my pocket and unfurled the piece of parchment Evelyn had left me.

  A map. Crudely made. It covered only the area immediate to us, but lines were drawn meticulously around the sections that were safe.

  It was rough, the charcoal smudging in some pces, but this too was valuable intelligence. I had already begun routing a path toward the Forge.

  I put the map back in my pocket and turned back toward camp.

  The makeshift infirmary tent was little more than canvas and rope, but I had done my best to make it serviceable. Lanterns hung from poles, their light muted. The air smelled of crushed herbs and damp fabric.

  It was familiar. Comforting, in a way.

  But not for everyone.

  Tomás slept fitfully.

  I knelt beside him and dipped a cloth into the basin, wringing it out carefully before wiping his brow.

  He murmured something unintelligible and shifted, pain drawing his features tight. The sedative I'd used kept him from filing and injuring himself further, but there was only so much I could do about the aches.

  "Easy," I whispered, more habit than hope.

  I changed the cloth and wiped his face again, more gently this time.

  When the water clouded with sweat and grime, I rose and stepped outside.

  The pump was only a short walk from the tents, its iron handle slick with condensation. I worked it steadily, each pull drawing fresh water up from the reservoir beneath the City. It was a small marvel that even after all these centuries, the First Men's infrastructure still worked.

  When I returned, basin full, Ard was waiting inside the tent.

  "Ah. Didn't mean to startle you," he said. "You asked us to come by for checkups?"

  "That's right. I almost forgot."

  I set the basin down on the bench and gestured for him to sit.

  He found a stool, hands resting politely over his knees. I examined his eyes first, lifting each lid gently.

  "Ah," he said, opening his mouth. His gums were dry. A faint flush colored his cheekbones that wasn't there the day before.

  "Any dizziness?" I asked.

  "Just a little stiff," he said. "And my back. But that's hardly new."

  I nodded and moved on, listening to his breathing, checking his pulse, noting anything I could.

  When I finally stepped back, he cleared his throat.

  "I wanted to thank you," he said. "For Tomás. You acted quickly. He might've died if not for you."

  "Anyone would have done what I did," I replied, slightly embarrassed.

  "No." He shook his head. "Not everyone."

  There was a pause. Then he continued, "I also owe you an apology."

  I looked up at him.

  "I've been hard on you," he said. "I recognize that. I'm used to young folk having more passion than sense. For the longest time, I've felt it my duty to teach them. To keep them from getting themselves killed."

  He exhaled slowly. "But you... you seem to have a good head on your shoulders. I'm sure your parents must be proud."

  I wasn't sure how to respond.

  "You know, I have a daughter around your age," he droned on. "You remind me of her. Sharp. Stubborn. Thinking she's right all the time, though she often is."

  A faint smile tugged at his mouth, then faded. "She's married now, living in the capital. Hardly ever writes or visits. Not a single second to spare for old men, I suppose."

  "I'm sure she thinks of you," I said.

  "Perhaps." He shrugged, shifting his weight.

  For a moment, neither of us spoke.

  Then I set down my notepad. "That'll be it for now."

  He stood, adjusting his belt. "I'll see you around then, Miss Cire. Don't work too hard."

  Easier said than done, I thought.

  The tent fp rustled as he left. Before it had even settled, I'd returned to my bench, preparing the next batch of potions.

  It hadn't been more than a few minutes before I heard the fp rustle again.

  "Sir Ard?" I said without looking up. "Did you forget something?"

  No answer.

  I gnced up and saw Rocher standing slightly off-kilter at the entrance.

  "Oh. Sorry," I said automatically, my brow furrowing. "Have a seat, Rocher. I'll be right with you."

  He stepped inside without a word.

  I was at a particurly sensitive part of the process. If I stopped here, the crushed herbs would absorb moisture from the air and get clumpy. Just a little finer—

  Rocher's arms came around me, startling me. Half the powder jumped out, dusting the air.

  "Rocher?" I murmured, frowning. "I'm working."

  He buried his face in the crook of my neck. His breath came in harsh, ragged bursts, scorching hot against my skin.

  "What are you—"

  I tried to turn, to see his face, but his hold became a vice. I felt it then—the heat radiating off him like a furnace. Sweat soaked the tunic at my back, steaming in the cool air of the tent.

  "Let go," I said. "You're burning up."

  He didn't answer. His hands began to move, not with the tenderness of a lover, but with the desperate insistence of a man possessed. He tugged at my belt, his fingers fumbling and clumsy.

  I twisted in his arms, finally forcing him to look at me.

  His eyes weren't his eyes. They were wide, unseeing, the pupils blown so wide the iris was just a thin ring. The flush on his cheeks wasn't a fever; it was a violent, mottled red.

  "Rocher, stop," I said, heart lurching.

  He shoved me back. The bench skidded violently against the table as he pinned me, his weight crushing the breath from my lungs. He lifted me onto the table with terrifying ease.

  "No!" I gasped, pushing against his chest.

  It was like pushing against stone.

  His mouth crushed against mine. His tongue pressed forward blindly. His hands threaded into my hair, twisting the strands, tilting my head back to deepen the assault.

  Panic roared through me, drowning out thought. I scrabbled at the table, knocking gssware off the edge. They smashed on the floor, the sound sharp and useless.

  Focus.

  I forced my trembling hand to stop searching the air and start finding the tray.

  My fingers wrapped around the cool metal of the sedative needle.

  I'm sorry.

  I drove the needle into his side.

  Rocher jerked as if struck by lightning. He tore his mouth from mine, a guttural sound tearing from his throat as he cwed at the injection site. His eyes rolled back, the green finally focusing on me for a fleeting, confused second.

  "Cire?"

  Then his weight sagged. He colpsed at my feet in a boneless heap.

  I slid down from the table, my legs shaking so badly I nearly joined him. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

  The tent fp flew open.

  Ard and Benet burst in, swords drawn, eyes scanning for an enemy.

  "What in the—" Benet stopped short, eyes flicking over the scene. The shattered gss. Rocher unconscious on the floor. Me sitting on the edge of the table, disheveled and trembling.

  "Help me tie him up," I said hoarsely.

  They hesitated only a second before moving to secure him.

  As they bound Rocher's wrists and ankles, Ard swallowed hard, his face pale.

  "What's happened? Is he... is he possessed?"

  I dragged a hand over my face.

  "I couldn't be sure how it would manifest," I said, forcing the words out. "So I've been checking all of you. For signs."

  "Signs?" Benet grunted as he tightened a knot. "Of what?"

  "Infection."

  I swallowed. The word hung heavy in the air.

  "The creature we fought was shedding," I said, my voice steadying. "Fungal spores, altered by demonic miasma."

  Ard opened his eyes in arm.

  "Just like with demonic magic, it specializes in addling the mind," I continued. "Regution. Inhibition. Judgment. They all become compromised."

  Benet stiffened. "You mean—"

  "Yes. That's why I had you all find that pump and wash yourselves immediately." I touched my swollen lip and looked at Rocher. "I was hoping we could flush it before it took root."

  I crouched down, forcing myself to be clinical. I opened one of Rocher's eyelids. His eye was rolled back in his head, his body shivering faintly.

  "It's as I feared. The Hero got the worst of it. He'd fought the beast in close contact for such a long time. Breathing it in."

  Ard stepped forward. "Is there anything we can do?"

  I shook my head as I stood.

  "I've already sent Lumiere out to find the antidote. All we can do is pray for her swift return."

  Benet and Ard turned to each other, exchanging nervous gnces.

  That's when I noticed it.

  The flush along Benet's neck.

  The sheen of sweat on Ard's brow.

  My stomach dropped.