“Gideon’s not the first,” Delphine said, reading through a particularly detailed expense ledger. “Look at this. Charlotte paid someone called E. Moreau for ‘mirror modifications’—but the work wasn’t done in her workshop. It was done at a separate location. And the dates suggest it happened after she noticed the tampering.”
“She was trying to fix the corruption,” Bastien said. “Fighting back against whoever infiltrated the network.”
“And she lost.” Delphine closed the ledger.
The reading room felt colder suddenly. Outside, clouds had covered the sun, turning afternoon light gray and flat.
“We won’t lose,” Bastien said quietly. “Because we know what she knew. And because Gideon’s made one critical mistake.”
“What mistake?”
“He thinks the bond can be broken by rational examination. That if you look at the evidence clearly, you’ll choose to walk away.” Bastien gathered the photographs into order. “But Charlotte didn’t build a bond that traps people through ignorance. She built one that strengthens when examined honestly. The more you understand it, the more you see it’s not cage—it’s choice made visible.”
Delphine smiled. “You’re really confident about that.”
“I’m really confident in her.” He looked at the schematic showing the broken circle. “And I’m really confident that you’re capable of making your own decisions, even when they’re complicated.”
“Even when they involve supernatural soul bonds and two-century-old mirror networks?”
“Especially then.”
She laughed—bright sound that cut through the tension. “All right. Let’s find where Charlotte hid the primary documents. And let’s figure out how to turn her network into the truth-telling machine she actually designed.”
“That’s going to require going back to the vault,” Bastien said. “To the convergence point where the altar is. That’s where Charlotte would have hidden anything she wanted only me to find.”
“When?”
“Tonight. After dark, when the network’s naturally quieter.” He stood, collecting the photographs. “We’ll need to prepare. Gather supplies. Make sure we understand exactly what we’re looking for.”
“And Thursday night?” Delphine asked. “When Gideon activates his sermon?”
“Thursday night, we make sure the city hears Charlotte’s actual voice. Not the distorted version Gideon’s been broadcasting.” Bastien held her gaze. “But I need you to understand—if this fails, if we can’t interrupt his working, you’ll be forced to watch a version of our partnership that makes every protective instinct I have look like control. Every moment of trust look like manipulation.”
“And you’ll be forced to watch me choose,” Delphine said steadily. “Either way. With full awareness of what the choice means.” She picked up Charlotte’s note, the one warning about corruption. “That’s what terrifies Gideon—not that I’llreject you, but that I might choose to honor a bond I finally understand. Because that would prove his entire philosophy is wrong.”
Bastien felt the weight of two centuries shift slightly. Not disappearing—never disappearing. But distributed differently. Shared, for the first time in longer than he could remember.
“Then we’d better make sure you have accurate information to base that choice on,” he said.
“We’d better,” Delphine agreed.
They worked until the Archive’s closing time, compiling everything Charlotte had left behind. By the time they locked the reading room door, they’d assembled a complete picture of what she’d actually built—and what Gideon had twisted it into.
Thirty-six hours until the sermon.
Thirty-six hours to find Charlotte’s hidden documentation and prepare a counter-broadcast.
Thirty-six hours until Delphine would choose—with clarity, with honesty, with full understanding of what the choice meant.
And whatever she decided, Bastien would honor it.
Because that’s what love without coercion looked like.
That’s what Charlotte had been trying to prove all along.
Chapter
Twenty-Five
