CHAPTER 40
No one told me where the wedding was being held, but I should have guessed. The drive to Notre-Dame felt like the longest few minutes of my life. I barely even noticed the lights reflecting off the Seine or the golden glow of the ornate bridges arching over it, radiant against the dusk. When we got out of the car, the Dauphins’ guards stayed far enough away to accommodate my umbrella as I sloshed through puddles. The bottom of my dress would be ruined, but it wasn’t like I cared.
From across the square, a rowdy group of tourists laughed and catcalled at us. I thought for a second about yelling for help, but I knew it’d be a bad idea.
I hugged the handle of Elodie’s umbrella to my chest, trying to let the rush of raindrops on its canopy drown out the rushing in my head. And then, I felt a click. Where the handle had been smooth a second earlier, now it wasn’t. A thin ribbon of shining metal protruded from it.
I worked at it with my fingers, drawing the thing the rest of the way out.
A knife.
A small, thin blade, about four inches long, its handle part of the umbrella handle.
Whether it was because Luc was Elodie’s best friend and she didn’t want him to have to do this, or because she’d rather see me gone from France altogether, I wasn’t going to say no. I was so much smaller than the guards that my umbrella hid me, so I was able to work the little knife down the bodice of my dress, under my arm. Its tip dug into my side, but it should be okay if I stood very straight.
Now I had to figure out when to use it.
Maybe that little bit of subterfuge opened my eyes, because all of a sudden, I noticed a phone on the belt of the guard in front of me. I didn’t know my father’s phone number, but I might be able to call the Order, just in case Stellan hadn’t. Plus, I could try my mom again.
I waited until we stepped up on a curb, then cried out and fell into the guard, careful to stay upright enough not to stab myself. As he whipped around, I pulled his phone out of its holder and stuffed it under my arm. “Sorry,” I said, standing back up. “I tripped.”
The guard scowled, but didn’t say anything. I worked the phone down the other side of my bodice.
As we got to Notre-Dame, I remembered Jack telling me that the left-hand door, with the triangle over it, represented the Circle watching over the common people. I sniffed. Unlike yesterday, when tourists had flowed in and out of the main entrance, only that left door was open now. We stepped inside.
After the thundering rain on the umbrella, the inside of Notre – Dame was silent and as echoey as a cave. Tall candles lined the entrance, their flames casting elongated shadows, and dozens of chandeliers bathed the soaring archways along the nave in warm light. When my ears had adjusted, I heard the whispers of the crowd and saw the occasional head turn to sneak a glance at us. I let myself hope for one second that my father had heard about this surprise wedding and showed up to stop it, but no outraged Saxons ran toward us. How ironic. The fact that he actually did care enough about me to search for me meant he wouldn’t be here when I needed him.
The guards deposited me in a small room near the entrance to wait. I locked the door and pulled out the phone, dialing the Order’s number.
All I got was dead air. No signal. I cursed under my breath.
My gaze darted around the room. One small window, high up on the wall. A confessional booth. That was it.
I shoved back my veil and searched the room for something to climb on. There was a rickety stool in one corner, but it wasn’t very tall. I pulled open the door of the confessional booth and found a chair. I dragged it across the room, climbed up, and tried to grab the windowsill.
I twisted too far and the knife in my bodice pierced my side. I bit back a whimper and dropped back to the chair, panting. It was too high. I’d never be able to reach, and probably wouldn’t be able to get through the bars, anyway. What else?
Wait.
I jumped off the chair. Inside the confessional booth, behind where this chair had been, there was another tiny door.
Voices outside the room got louder. The guards were coming back.
I sprinted into the confessional and shoved against the little door. Nothing. I jiggled the handle, pulled. It stayed firmly shut. A loud knock came at the door. I lowered my shoulder, ran into the door, and it flew open. Inside was pitch black.
The outer doorknob rattled.
I stepped inside carefully—and my feet found stairs. I reached back out to pull shut first the door of the confessional, then the inner door, and fumbled my way up the steps.
I could feel cool, rain-scented air coming through tiny holes carved in the wall, but there was no way out of the dark, so I hurried up and up and up, as fast as I could, really glad now that Elodie had loosened my corset. I hoped beyond hope that this would somehow lead to an exit. Strangely, no one was following me yet.
Finally, an outline of a door. I held my breath and eased it open, not sure what I’d find. Empty.
I stepped out cautiously, and only then did I realize I wasn’t in a room. I’d only made it to the balcony that surrounded the center of the nave, on level with the colorful stained-glass windows.
I stood behind a pillar, breathing hard, and peered down to see Monsieur Dauphin and Luc at the altar that had been closed off yesterday. After a few seconds, a guard approached. He whispered something to Monsieur Dauphin, who stiffened. He glanced up, almost at me, and around the rest of the balcony.
He said something to the guard, and the guard disappeared.
How was I going to get out of here?
I kicked out of my too-loud heels and tried not to trip on the heavy, soaked hem of my dress as I hurried down the balcony, sticking as close as I could to the wall, trying every door I came across. There had to be another stairway. I kept expecting to hear the clomp of guards’ boots, but the balcony was eerily quiet.
The clearing of a throat directed my attention downstairs. Then, the sound of Monsieur Dauphin’s voice.
“Thank you all for coming this evening. As you all know, our family’s tragedy is just the latest in our adversaries’ plan to take down the Circle, family by family.” Murmurs went up in the crowd. “I know some of you suspect, as I do, that the Order’s information about us is too detailed to be coincidence. I am happy to report that we have caught the traitor who has been passing information to the enemy for months.”
What?
A roar went up from the crowd.
“Bring him,” Monsieur Dauphin said, and I had to peek out from my hiding place.
Below me, a guard dragged a prisoner to the front of the cathedral. All eyes were on him as he passed, handcuffed and bound at the ankles, a dark hood obscuring his face.
When he got to the front, Monsieur Dauphin yanked off his hood.
The whole audience gasped.
I gasped with them.
The man the guards were holding was Jack.