Page 110 of The Deadliest Candidate

“You need to come with me,” she said. “I know where Emmeline is.”

Edmund started as though he’d been whipped out of a dream and back into reality. “What did you say?”

“I found Emmeline.” Fern’s voice was tight with urgency. “She’s trapped in the sewer pit, deep below Carthane.”

“How?” Edmund asked, his voice strangled, his handsome face twisted with anger and shock. “Who did this? How did you find out?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know. We won’t have time to—”

Edmund stepped forward, forcing Fern to step back. There was no relief in his eyes, only pure distrust, and a hatred that made a shudder of fear scratch its way up Fern’s back.

“You’re a liar.”

“No, I swear, Emmeline needs our help, we—”

“If you both were attacked, then how is ityouescaped but not my sister?” Edmund hissed, and, before Fern could answer, “And why would you leave her?”

“Edmund.” Lautric’s voice interceded, but Fern spoke over him.

“I had no choice, please, Mr Ferrow, believe me. I escaped, but—”

A hand came down to rest over Fern’s shoulder. She turned to look up into the archivist’s frowning face.

“What is this?” the archivist said. “Miss Sullivan. You are late enough as it is. What could possibly be more important than this?”

It was a good question, after all, but Fern was no longer certain she knew the answer.

“Someone’s been targeting candidates,” she said. “Someone trapped Emmeline Ferrow in the sewers. Please, you must inform the Grand Archivists, and we need to go find Emmeline, there’s no time to waste.”

The archivist ran out.

“Who would possibly do something like this?” said Dr Essouadi from behind Edmund, her voice a hoarse whisper.

Fern’s eyes flew to Lautric. He shook his head by the merest fraction, almost unnoticeable. As if to say,No, Fern, you’re wrong. Fern’s heart tightened. Part of her did not wish to believe it, but he’d lied before, and he’d been the one to warn her about what he was capable of.

It was Edmund who spoke first, a dull question falling from his lips.

“Where’s the general?”

Dr Essouadi answered. “He left a moment ago. I think he might be quite unwell, perhaps the pyromancy is taking its toll; he was absent from dinner last night. I assumed he was too unwell to eat.”

Fern’s heart sank, and a sudden silence reigned over her heart, her mind. Realisation dawned in that silence, bright and absolute and devastating.

Her mouth formed a name;she could not bring herself to say it. She’s made a mistake: yet another to add to her litany. A terrible mistake, this time, her deadliest one yet.

She turned and ran.

Chapter fifty-three

The Sacrifice

Fern’s panic was obliterating.She ran without seeing, her heart a block of ice in her chest, her stomach churning with nausea.

She was too late; she would be too late. She had been wrong, blinded by her own emotions, no matter how careful she’d tried to be.

Lautric had been the easiest answer, but Fern would never have accepted an easy answer if she hadn’twantedto believe it in the first place. And the whole time, the real answer had been right in front of her.

She had seen Srivastav the evening Josefa’s work had gone missing, the night after the attack on Vittoria. She had seen him leave the Alchemy Wing last, and the night before, when the Door’s influence had knocked her sick, Srivastav had been alone near the Alchemy Wing too.

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