“Look!” Alice points out the window with a shaking finger. The street is lined with black carriages bearing the Brothers’ gold seal. My heart races. I count six of them, which means at least two dozen Brothers. Why bring so many, unless there’s trouble?

There’s got to be trouble.

Maura and Tess are inside.

Some small, sensible voice points out that I ought to run in the opposite direction. That if I am the oracle and the Brothers find me, it could make everything ten times worse. At best, they’ll torture me until I give them prophecies. At worst, they will burn me in Richmond Square with everyone I love watching.

I know this; I’ve heard it plainly from the mouths of people I trust; but I cannot turn my back on my sisters if they are in danger.

And it’s not only Maura and Tess who worry me. Somehow, over the last week or two, the convent has worked its way beneath my skin. I can’t pinpoint the moment it happened, but it has come to feel like a second home, and the girls there a second family. Rilla, Addie, Daisy, Sister Sophia, little Lucy Wheeler—they all know me better than my own father, and I wouldn’t see harm done to any of them. Not if I can help it.

I throw open the carriage door, gather my skirts, and jump down onto the cobblestones.

Alice and Mei follow. Robert runs toward the convent ahead of us, and I can’t blame him for abandoning his charges; he must be mad with worry for Vi’s safety. We hurry after him, racing up the convent steps.

The front hall is crawling with Brothers. One perches on the first-floor landing, holding a sheet of parchment and calling out names in a high, nasal voice. Girls are lined up down the hallway; they are being led one by one into classrooms and the front parlor. It’s easy to spot Maura, resplendent in a sunny yellow gown with a red cummerbund, but I can’t find Tess.

A fat Brother with a thatch of blond hair and small, piggy eyes catches my arm as I push past him. “You there, wait a minute. Who are you?”

I bow my head, trying to slow my breathing from my mad dash. To act unconcerned, as though there’s nothing to fear. “Catherine Cahill, sir.”

He consults a list. Peering over his elbow, I see that it’s a roster of students, with a line through some of the names. “We’ve already called your name. They said you were out delivering rations by the river.”

“Yes, sir. I just got back.” What’s all this about? Where is Tess?

“Come with me,” he says. Girls scurry out of his way as he lumbers down the hallway and gestures into the illusions classroom. “In there.”

Three Brothers stand against the chalkboard; the oldest sits at Sister Inez’s desk with a pen in his hand and blank parchment before him. I stand with my eyes cast down demurely, hands clasped in front of me.

“Name?” one of them barks.

“Catherine Cahill, sir.” I hear the scribe taking down my answer as I stare at the shining wooden floorboards of Sister Inez’s classroom. Someone must have waxed them since class yesterday. The room still smells faintly of lemons.

“What brought you to the Sisterhood, Miss Cahill?”

“I hoped to be of service to the poor and the sick. To do charitable work in the name of the Lord.” Pure of heart, meek of spirit, and chaste of virtue. That is what I must appear. They won’t hurt me if I answer their questions correctly.

“Do you find such work pleasant?” he snarls.

Pleasant? What answer do they want? I think of the Harwood infirmary, of the girls in the uncooperative ward, and barely suppress a shudder. “No, sir, but there but for the grace of the Lord am I. It makes me grateful for my own blessings.”

Pen scratches across parchment again. Is he only writing down my answer, or something more? “What is the most important virtue for a young lady, Miss Cahill?” another voice asks.

“Obedience.” That answer has been drilled into us since we were children.

“Very good. Have you ever had any premonitions, Miss Cahill? A very strong hunch, perhaps, of something about to happen? A dream that later came true? Look at us when you make your answer.”

That’s why they are here, then. Oracle hunting.

I look up at them with shocked eyes. “No, sir. Never.”

“Have you heard any of the girls here claim such a thing?”

I do not even blink. “No, sir.”

“What would you think of a girl who did?”

“I would think her very wicked and presumptuous, sir. We must put our faith in the Lord to guide us, and not think it the work of weak and sinful mortals like ourselves,” I explain. My eyes fall to the blue glass lamp on Sister Inez’s desk. She’s dusted it.

The whiskered old man at the desk puts down his pen and gives me a smile. “Very good, Miss Cahill. You are dismissed.” He does not waste time with the ritual blessings, only makes a shooing gesture with his hand.

“Thank you, sir.” I hurry back into the hallway, eager to find my sisters.

Maura stands with Vi in front of the library. “They’re still questioning Tess,” she says, her shoulders tight with worry. “She’s been in there a long time.”

I grab Maura’s hand, fighting back the fear that swamps me. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

“Of course.” But Maura squeezes my fingers in hers, last night’s argument forgotten.

The Brothers’ questions weren’t difficult. If I managed to keep my temper and answer appropriately, I daresay Tess won’t have any trouble. But as the minutes tick by, my mind seeks potential disasters. She’s in a library. What if they ask her about the moral insidiousness of novels? What if they question her stance on book-burning? Will she be able to lie convincingly?

The library door bangs open, and two Brothers stride out, dragging a small blond figure between them. “We’re taking this girl with us for further questioning.”

Maura’s grip tightens until I feel as though the bones in my palm will crack. My heart plummets before I recognize Lucy’s friend, Hope Ashby.

We press back against the walls. Sister Cora steps out of the front parlor. “May I ask on what grounds?”

“She did not answer the questions to our satisfaction. We believe she may be an oracle or have knowledge of one.”

My pulse races. Hope is twelve and terrified. What if they torture her? She cannot be expected to keep quiet. Sister Cora’s got to do something to stop them from taking her.

“Sister Cora, please! Help me,” Hope begs.

“If you are innocent, you will be back with us soon enough.” Sister Cora’s face is a sick gray and her smile is false. She must know we won’t see Hope again.

I see my horror reflected on the faces of all the girls around me. Sister Cora cannot—will not—save us. Part of me hopes that in her place, I would do more. Fight harder. But the pragmatic part knows she is sacrificing Hope to protect the rest of us.

The Brothers begin to shuffle out the door, evidently content now that they’ve made an arrest. The man who’s been calling out names on the steps stuffs his papers in a black leather satchel and clears his throat. “Let this be a lesson. No one is exempt. Wickedness can worm its way into even the youngest, most innocent souls, and we will root it out and punish it wheresoever we find it.” He bows to Sister Cora. “Thank you for your compliance, Sister. We will be back soon to conduct another search.”