Page 52 of The Bone Season

‘I want to go out.’ I gazed at the wall, unblinking. ‘Do you have more numa?’

She looked sceptical. ‘Did the Warden say you could leave?’

‘Yes. To get something to eat.’

‘You’re still feverish. It’s not safe out there.’

‘He watched them do this to me. I’m not safe in here, either.’

Without commenting, she handed me another pouch of numa. I drew on my new tunic and left before she had signed me out.

It was hard going. Magdalen was only a short way from Catte Street, but as I reached it, I almost blacked out. On top of the pain, I hadn’t eaten. I leaned against a wall until the feeling passed.

Carl hadn’t mentioned the branding. Then again, he had looked ill. No doubt the Rephs had already convinced him it was necessary.

The city looked just the same as before, yet I was stained. Instead of white, I wore sickly carnation pink, to match the anchor on my new gilet. The fit of laughter seemed like it had happened in another life.

If they had killed a child in the first test, what would they do to me in the second?

How much blood would be spilled before I was red?

There had to be some way out, even if I had to dance around landmines. Anything was better than being moulded to fit this place.

The Rookery was calm tonight. I limped into its passages, my leg weak and heavy, searching for Julian or Tilda. Each time a performer glimpsed me, their face went blank, their head down. My tunic now served as a warning. It proved I had betrayed my own.

‘Paige?’

I stopped, my leg shaking. Liss was leaning out of her room. She took one look at my pink tunic before her expression darkened.

‘Liss,’ I started.

‘You passed,’ she said stiffly. ‘What did you do?’

‘The Rephs got Seb.’ For the first time, my voice quaked. ‘They wanted me to kill him with my spirit.’

‘Kill him,’ she whispered. ‘Where is he, Paige?’

‘He’s dead.’

Liss gave me a look of pure betrayal, then closed her curtain. I let myself sink to the ground, too shaken and drained to defend myself. So far I had made a grand total of two allies in this hellhole, and one of them now thought I had killed someone in cold blood for a tunic.

Perhaps I should have stayed at Magdalen for the night. But then I would have been trapped in the same building as Warden, and I couldn’t stomach any more of him tonight.

‘Sebastian Pearce,’ I murmured, trying to call his spirit. ‘Seb?’

Not even a twinge from the æther. I might be missing part of his name – or someone had already bound him, putting him beyond my reach.

The curtain seemed to judge me. The rip in it had been carefully sewn. I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the ache in my thigh.

Three years in the syndicate had taught me the importance of a gang. Julian was a solid first link, but he and I were still new to this place. We needed someone who knew it to its deepest roots – someone like Liss. Whatever it took, I had to prove myself to her.

With an effort that left me coated in sweat, I got up and headed for the cookfires. Julian might turn on me once I had told him about Seb, but I hoped he would hear me out.

Halfway there, I smelled aster in a shack and sensed Tilda. She was sprawled among a few delirious performers, head propped on a cushion, smoking. Minding my leg, I knelt beside her.

‘Tilda,’ I said. ‘You okay?’

‘Oh, hello.’ She blinked hard. ‘Are you real?’

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