Page 201 of The Bone Season

‘I’m still fuming with you. But you chose me over Kraz.’ I offered it to him. ‘I’d say you’ve earned your own bed.’

Warden took it, a new and soft light in his eyes. I pressed his wrist once before I let go.

On Midsummer Day, Warden entrusted me with the key to Water Walk. By day, it was a scenic retreat – a footpath that circled a water meadow by the River Cherwell. I spent the morning out there, savouring the sun on the mist, the crispness of the air.

That day, I understood how little I could miss Jaxon. In London, I rarely had a moment to myself. Since I had refused to practise dreamwalking, Jaxon had worked me harder and harder. It had been almost a year since I had last spent a morning as slowly as this.

I sat down on the riverbank. As I soaked up the weak sunlight, I glimpsed a rabbit, the blue flash of a kingfisher, a squirrel darting up an oak. So much life still endured in this place.

After a while, another movement caught my eye. Nuala was gazing at me from the other side of the Cherwell. I smiled a little.

Warden was still talking around the question. I thought I knew what it was now, though I still wasn’t sure how to answer. I was a mollisher, not a mime-queen. I hadn’t thought I would lead for decades. I had been content to serve Jaxon, a moon that could only reflect others’ light.

But I did have the skills to help Warden win. I knew how an underworld was organised; I knew how to move unseen by the anchor.

At this point, I had nothing left to lose.

Two days later, a rattled Michael returned from a feast. I was treating the cut on my arm while Warden pored over paperwork. They had a conversation before Michael left, shutting the door behind him.

‘That looked intense,’ I said. ‘What did he say?’

‘Nashira has called her entire family to the Residence of the Suzerain.’ Warden looked out of the window. ‘Kraz must have been found.’

‘Better steel ourselves for questioning, then.’

‘So far, no suspicion has fallen on either of us.’

Rephs clearly had no concept of forensics. I went back to studying a plan of the Guildhall, where the Bicentenary would take place.

Later that day, at sunset, I was making a list of voyants’ names when someone used the iron knocker. The sky outside was rosy, bloodshot.

I recognised the dreamscape outside.

Warden stood by the fire. His gaze slashed towards the door, then to me.

‘It’s her,’ I said under my breath.

‘Hide, quickly.’

With no way to get to the attic, I squeezed into the bottom of the linen closet. Warden closed it before he let Nashira in.

The Suzerain stepped into the parlour. I watched through the crack between the doors. Warden knelt before her, as he always did.

‘Arcturus.’ Her eyes were a bright yellow, with no trace of green. ‘Where is our dreamwalker?’

‘She sleeps. It is not yet night.’

‘I smell her.’ Pause. ‘Do you share your own parlour with her, Arcturus?’

I tensed. She must have a sniffer in her entourage, giving her the ability to smell auras and spirits.

‘No,’ Warden said. ‘She came to beg for a meal.’

‘I see.’

She looked out of the window. Three of her fallen angels drifted near her.

‘Kraz is gone. A broken vial of the pollen was found with him,’ she said. ‘Do you happen to know anything about this?’

---