Page 154 of The Bone Season

‘Yes, Suzerain,’ 30 and Carl said. David nodded, swilling his wine around the glass.

‘You will all be free to use your gifts on this assignment. I expect you to show gratitude for the long hours your keepers have poured into your training.’ Nashira looked into my eyes. ‘You in particular, 40. If you do not attempt to reach your full potential in London, I shall see to it that you never walk the sheltered halls of Magdalen again. You can rot outside with the rest of the fools.’

I forced a nod, knowing she was lying. There was no emotion in her gaze, but there was a great emptiness – an emptiness that rang of hunger.

Nashira Sargas was losing her patience.

TRAFALGAR

10 June 2059

I will never forget how Warden looked when I returned to him that night. It was the first time I understood that Rephs could experience fear.

Terebell had walked me to the doors of Magdalen. Gail had let me in, turning as ashen as the fog when she realised what I was wearing.

The red tunic was as warm as a fleece. It came with a raincoat, thicker socks, winter combat boots, a thermal undershirt, waterproof trousers, even tactical gloves. The white tunic was a scrap of paper in comparison.

For the first time in three months, I felt prepared and equipped for this city. I didn’t have to brace myself against the cold. I even had a switchblade, which hooked on to my belt. It all made me feel like a Vigile, but I could live with that, if it meant that Nashira believed I was tame.

I climbed the steps and used the iron knocker on the door. When Warden opened it, he went still as stone, taking me in from my face to my reinforced boots.

The trepidation only showed itself for a split second. But I did see it, in that moment – a flicker of insecurity, dim as a candle. I watched him come to the realisation that he might have confided in the wrong person.

‘Paige,’ he said.

‘Warden.’

After a moment, he stood aside. I walked past him.

‘How was your inaugural feast?’

‘Very interesting,’ I said, tracing the red anchor on the gilet. ‘You were right. Nashira did ask me some questions about you.’

There was a brief silence. I removed my new belt from over my gilet.

‘And you answered them.’ His voice was hard and flat. ‘So be it.’ He bolted the door. ‘I must know what you told her, Paige.’

Warden had warned me against pride, but I glimpsed it in him now. He wasn’t going to beg. His jaw was clenched tight, his mouth pressed into a firm line. I wondered what was racing through his mind.

Without replying, I went to his display case and opened it. I reached inside for the snuffbox and held it out to him, so he could see the lid.

‘What does this symbol mean?’

Warden remained silent.

‘Nashira asked me if I’d ever seen it in here,’ I said. ‘What is it?’

‘First tell me how you answered her questions.’

Our gazes locked. Once, I would have taken pleasure in making him wait, just to watch him suffer. Now I wondered if I might be looking at an ally.

‘I lied,’ I said. ‘I told her I’d never seen the flower.’

He watched me return the snuffbox to its place.

‘I didn’t tell her you vanish in the fog. I denied that you’ve ever tried to speak to me in a personal capacity.’ I never broke his gaze as I spoke. ‘I didn’t tell her you burned the pamphlet. I didn’t tell her about the wounds. I didn’t tell her you call me by name.’

His expression changed. I walked towards him until I was close enough to touch.

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