me this book before I left the Refuge.”
Marcellus stared incredulously between Alouette and the open page. “Why?”
Alouette shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Well, read it!”
With shaky hands, Alouette turned to the correct section and read aloud from the first report. It was about an upcoming interplanetary visit from Novayan delegates. She flipped to the next report, and together, she and Marcellus skimmed over a diagram illustrating Mabelle’s suggested placements for a new batch of surveillance microcams and another diagram that laid out the locations of four loopholes that Mabelle had engineered in the security shields around the Palais, so she could sneak on and off the grounds without being seen.
“Yes!” Marcellus said eagerly, pointing at the page. “She told me about those. I was using them to come and go from the Palais before I was arrested.”
In the next report, Alouette read aloud from a full hour-by-hour account of Patriarche Claude’s daily activities, including what he ate for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And then there was a review of the former Matrone’s comings and goings. But after skimming through more than ten subsequent reports, Alouette was still no closer to answering that nagging question: Why had Principale Francine given this to her?
She blew out a breath and turned to the next report, convinced that this one would be just as unhelpful as the last. But something near the top of the page instantly caught her eye. A word. A name.
The only name that seemed to matter to Alouette anymore.
Her heart started to pound. She warned herself not to get her hopes up. There were probably countless women on the planet of Laterre that had that same name. It didn’t necessarily mean anything.
But she just couldn’t help the adrenaline coursing through her as she bent her head toward the worn, yellowed page of Mabelle’s report and read aloud.
Date: Month 6, Day 1, 488
Operative: Mabelle Dubois
Location: Grand Palais
Today I came back to my room in the servants’ wing and heard the sound of muffled sobs. I knew instantly that it was Lisole in the room next to mine. Today was the “big day,” as she’d been calling it for weeks. But clearly it had not gone as planned.
I called to her through the crack in the wall, the one we always use to whisper to each other late into the night. But she didn’t answer. Nor did she come to dinner with the other maids.
I fear it is the worst news. I fear she has gotten herself in too deep. She has waded into the water with sharks, and she can’t swim.
I worry about her. Lisole has become my one true friend here in the Palais. I remember how she used to be such a happy girl. Before she got herself embroiled in this mess. She used to sing while she scrubbed the floors. She smiled at the flowers in the garden. And her big, dark eyes drank in the stars in the vast TéléSky.
But tonight, I fall asleep to the sound of her cries.
“Lisole,” Marcellus echoed once Alouette had reached the end of the report. He turned to her, the shock on his face matching her own. “Your mother?”
Alouette’s breaths were coming fast and furious now. She could barely move her head enough to nod. “I think … maybe?”
“Keep reading!” Marcellus urged.
She turned the page.
Date: Month 6, Day 2, 488
Operative: Mabelle Dubois
Location: Grand Palais
This morning, I awoke to the sound of a commotion outside my door. I rushed into the hallway to find Lisole fighting with a handsome auburn-haired Palais guard. Her eyes were puffy and red. Her hair was a mess, and across her cheek, I saw an angry red mark. I knew, immediately, that she’d been struck.
I asked the guard what was happening.
“Mademoiselle Villette has been relieved of her duties at the Palais,” he said in a cold, detached tone. He wouldn’t even look at her as he spoke.
“Is there a reason?” I asked, even though I was certain I already knew. Lisole’s tears last night had told me everything.
“For theft,” the guard announced.
Lisole bowed her head in shame, and my worst fears were confirmed.
“She was caught stealing directly from the Patriarche himself,” the guard went on. “She is fortunate Patriarche Claude is only dismissing her, and not sending her straight to Bastille.”
I nodded but said nothing. For there was nothing I could say.
As the guard escorted her away, Lisole caught my eye, and in a single desperate glance, we both knew that this was the beginning of the