I eye her suspiciously. The rest of us are dressed in our grim bombazine, but she’s bright and girlish in a simple tulip-pink dress with full skirts and creamy lace at the throat and cuffs, tied with a wide black sash at the waist. She looks a pretty little doll, not a powerful young witch. It’s as much a charade as our Sisterly black.

“Don’t give me that look,” she says, pinching me. “I can be every bit as stubborn as you. I only want to meet Zara; I won’t make any trouble. And you said I could, before.”

“Before I knew about today’s extra mission,” I hiss, patting the leather satchel next to me, filled with a dozen little stoppered bottles, themselves filled with ground-up rose petals and an herb stimulant Sister Sophia concocted to help counteract the girls’ withdrawal. “You’re infuriating.”

“Then I should remind you of yourself,” Tess jokes.

Mei sighs, her fingers still moving over the beads. “You two make me miss my sisters.”

“Are you certain you feel up to this? We would all understand if you weren’t,” Sister Sophia says gently.

“No, I might as well be useful. I’ll only fret otherwise.” Mei gives a woeful excuse for a smile, and I hug her tight. I am lucky to have a friend like her who would put aside her own heartache to take on such a dangerous task.

But even as my heart breaks for her, I wonder what the continued infallibility of the oracles means for us.

• • •

“I’m nervous,” Tess confesses as we hurry toward Zara’s room. “What if she doesn’t like me?”

“Everyone likes you. You’re terribly likable.” The matron and the nurses clucked over her from the instant she got out of the carriage, telling her what a grand selfless girl she is to be interested in such difficult work. And she was wonderful with the uncooperatives, even when we discovered a girl we knew among them. Mina Coste didn’t seem to recognize us, though she attended services with us all our lives. Her brown eyes were lifeless, her strawberry-blond curls in knots. All this because she snuck out to meet a boy?

How many times have I risked the same punishment to see Finn? And I will again tonight. I’ve just been luckier than Mina.

I take a deep breath, quelling my own nerves as we push open Zara’s door. She slouches in her chair, frizzy head bowed, staring out at the snowy hillside or dozing. I don’t know what to expect. Her distant memory seems unclouded by the laudanum, but will she remember our meeting last week?

“Zara?”

She startles awake, her brown eyes wild. “Who is it? What do you want?”

“It’s me, Cate,” I say softly. “Anna’s Cate? And look—I’ve brought Tess.”

“Hello,” Tess says, smiling bashfully. “I’m so glad to meet you.”

Zara stands, turning to me accusingly. “She’s just a child. Why would you let her come to a place like this? Anna wouldn’t approve.”

“I didn’t let her do anything. She’s got a mind of her own,” I point out.

But the criticism stings. Would Mother approve of how I’ve handled things of late?

“I insisted on coming. I’ve read your book,” Tess says. “Marianne gave it to us.”

“My book?” Zara sinks back down into her chair, her belligerence draining away. “She saved it?”

“Yes. There are a few illegible parts because of the water damage. It rained before she could rescue it from the roof where you hid it.” Tess fiddles with the black bow at her waist. “But I was able to read most of it.”

“I thought it was lost.” Zara’s dark eyes brim with tears as she begins to rock. “I thought I was stuck here forever for nothing.”

“You aren’t. Not for nothing, and not forever.” I perch on the edge of the narrow bed, setting the satchel down on the floor. Tess comes with me. “We’re going to get you out of here. Soon, even. Wednesday night.”

Zara shakes her head. There’s a splash of tea on the collar of her white blouse. “No. That’s impossible. Cora will never allow it. I’ll die here.”

I frown. “Cora’s dying.”

Zara’s bony hand flies to her lips. “Cora?” she repeats, struggling to focus on me.

“Cate,” Tess chides, knocking her shoulder into mine, “you shouldn’t be so blunt.”

“I’ve suffered worse.” Zara rocks faster. “You truly think you can get us out of here?”

“I’ve got to. You’re all sitting ducks if I don’t.” I explain what Inez means to do.

“I told you, didn’t I?” Zara slams her palms onto the arms of her chair with a sharp cracking sound. “I told you she’d stand back and let us all be killed if it suited her purposes!”

“Yes, well.” My eyes dart toward the door, hoping the nurse with the strawberry birthmark is so involved in her knitting that she won’t investigate the noise. “Unfortunately, you were right. I was hoping you’d help us spread the word to the other patients—especially the other witches. Will there be a chance to do that?”

“I can try.” Zara stares at the peephole. “They haven’t taken us out for our constitutionals because of the snow, but perhaps tomorrow—or while I’m in line to use the water closet. I don’t know who are witches and who aren’t, though. Not for certain. We don’t dare talk about magic here.”

Hopefully, Finn’s found the Harwood records at the Archives, then.

“That’s all right,” I say. “We’re going to get everyone out, witches or no. Don’t say it will be Wednesday. Just tell them we’ll pull the fire bell, and that will be the signal that we’re here and they should get ready to leave.”

Mei had come up with the idea for sounding the alarm this morning while we were pounding roses into a powder with a mortar and pestle. She was here once when a new patient got hold of a nurse’s matches and set her bed on fire.

“I can try, but half of them won’t remember. The laudanum plays strange tricks on the memory.” Zara lowers her voice to a husky whisper. “I’ve been here long enough to grow used to the dosage. I play at being more afflicted than I am, but I still have some of my wits about me. On bad days, it takes a damnable amount of willpower not to beg for more. Can’t blame the ones who do.”

“I’ve got a plan for that, too.” I’ve just finished explaining what Mei and I intend to do when Tess slumps backward onto the bed, eyelashes fluttering. Her head knocks into the cement wall.

“Tess? Tess!” I cry, gathering her limp weight into my arms.

“Shhh!” Zara warns, going to the door and peering out.

“Tess?” I give her a little shake. Of all times for her to have a vision. I’ve never seen one take hold of her so strongly.

Tess opens her eyes, staring at me groggily. Her breath catches. “Oh, Cate.” She pulls away from me, both hands pressed to her mouth as though she’s trying not to be sick. Closing her eyes, she takes several deep breaths. Her heart-shaped face—like Maura’s, like Mother’s—has gone pale.

Zara stands with her back to the door, blocking the peephole.