Page 98 of The Bone Season

‘Let’s get that ink off,’ she said. ‘Julian, can you stop them coming this way?’

‘I can try.’

He gave me a quick look, then got up and left. Liss offered me a bar of soap.

‘It’s paraffin wax,’ she said. ‘Let’s hope it works.’

‘Thank you,’ I said.

I scrubbed at the ink, rinsing the grey suds away in the water. It was stubborn. Seeing my predicament, Liss handed me a brush with hard bristles. I tried to thank her, but suddenly my throat felt tight.

Liss had been abandoned by the syndicate, her family left to starve on the streets. If she ever learned who I was, she would never speak to me again.

Because I wasn’t just any mollisher. I served the White Binder, the man whose pamphlet had sown resentment and pain among voyants. The creator of a hierarchy that dumped her on the lowest rung.

‘Paige,’ Liss said, watching me, ‘you need to be more careful.’

‘I know,’ I said.

‘No, you listen to me.’ She moved to kneel in front of me and grasped my elbows tight. ‘I’ve been training for the Bicentenary. If Nashira is going to kill you, she’ll want to make a spectacle of it, to keep us browbeaten for another decade. Why not then?’

It made sense.

‘If I’m right about her intentions,’ Liss said, ‘you only have a few months to build your strength, to give yourself a chance that night.’ Her dark gaze drilled into mine. ‘Just do your training and stop antagonising Rephs. Will you promise you’ll do that for me?’

I glanced away, clenching my jaw.

‘I don’t know how you’ve done it for so long,’ I said. ‘Ten years, Liss.’

‘Probably the same way you survived London.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘Don’t tell me an Irish lass never learned to bite her tongue.’

‘Maybe that’s why I can’t do it again here.’

‘I’m not saying it isn’t hard.’ Liss moved one hand to grasp my shoulder. ‘You and Julian are my first new friends in years. I don’t want to lose you. Promise me that you’ll do everything you can to live.’

From the catch in her voice, she meant it. I felt worse than ever for keeping my secret.

‘I promise,’ I said. ‘I’ve no intention of dying here.’

‘Good. If your hope is alive, so are you.’ She handed me a cloth. ‘You’ll need to take that passage out of here. Go straight back to Magdalen. Grab that shawl in the corner and use it to cover your tunic.’

She went to get rid of the soapy water. I headed the other way.

The passage took me back outside. I hid from the people gathered on the Broad, all blinking in the daylight, and sprinted down Turl Street, past Exeter, hoping nobody would look out of its windows.

Another derelict building loomed to my left. With my back pressed to it, I glanced on to Magdalen Walk. It was deserted. Not a good sign – I would stick out.

There were dreamscapes on all sides. The red-jackets must have fanned out to search for me. I drew the shawl over my hair and covered my tunic. Holding my nerve, I strode towards Magdalen.

Warden was there. I sensed him. I quickened my step, steeling myself for pain. He must know that I had no leverage and no protection. If he wanted to punish me, I had no way to stop him.

‘What have we here?’

I stopped. A Reph had stalked out from the Porters’ Lodge.

‘Suhail,’ I said, stunned.

The æther had failed me. He was right there, yet there was no trace of his dreamscape.

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