Page 89 of In Her Own Rite

“I’d just like to read up on some past stuff.”

“Past… stuff?”

“Yeah. To be better prepared for future decisions.”

“We keep everything upstairs. I can get you anything you need.”

“No worries. I can look myself.”

He nods slowly, eyeing me. “Okay. Well. If you need help finding a particular topic, you know where to find me.”

I swallow, lowering my voice, though I don’t really know why. “The asylum petition for the Nayakka sisters?”

“We organize by year,” he says, nodding. “I think they’ve applied the last three or four years in a row, if you look through the filing cabinets.”

I can feel my head jerk in surprise. “Four years? I thought this was just the second time.”

He shakes his head. “They’re not the first asylum petition we’ve had, either. Start there and come back if you need something else.”

I nod. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, any time.”

I glance over my shoulder to see Saga waiting to talk to me, but I’m not in the mood. Before she can approach, I turn for the stairs to find the archives.

33

EMERSON

It’s been days since I healed Gabe’s chest, since the moment I saw thekiyyulitcoming from my hand, and I haven’t been able to let it go. The house is tense, the air heavy with the weight of something he and I are both unwilling to hope for out loud. I haven’t wanted to try healing again; with all of us in such close quarters, I don’t want Seb catching wind of what we think may be true. Because if my suspicions are right—if whatever happened that dayissome lost healing art—then the implications are way, way bigger than Gabe’s broken femur.

From my place on the mat at the gym, I glance to my left to see Seb, walking with his uneven gait towards the weight rack. His pain comes from something far deeper than a bone break. Although he and I have never talked about it, I know from Saga that most of the trouble now comes from the mainland doctors’ removal of part of his leg muscle to preserve the rest of the leg.

Even if someone could heal bone, they couldn’t bring back flesh, right? You can’t make something out of nothing, and reviving dead tissue seems closer to necromancy than bone healing.

But this didn’t feel likejustbone healing.

As I weigh the thought, Quinn’s upper body slams into mine, pinning me onto my back. I feel my shoulder blades press against the ground, and she comes to rest her forearm against my neck, showing me she could cut off my windpipe if she wanted.

I drag my eyes up to her.

“You good?” she asks, panting. Her short half-bleached hair waves in front of her face, damp with sweat.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m… I’m somewhere else.”

“I can tell.” She releases the pressure from my body and sits up, catching her breath on the mat. “No offense, but I’ve been handing your ass to you all morning, and Iknowyou know at least some of these combinations. Where’s your head? Is it Kieran?”

I shake my head. “No. It’s me.”

“Ah. So Seb’s mental training is doing its job, then.” She gives me a wry grin, and for a second, I can see the hint of her cousin’s likeness in her face, coming forward and then disappearing like a stone sinking into water.

I shake my head again. “Not that, either.”

“Are you okay? What’s up?”

I swallow, and for a second, I consider telling her. But Seb’s voice from across the room interrupts us.

“What’s going on?” he asks, walking towards the mats. “We’ve got just a week or so before your rite. Why are we resting?”

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