Page 150 of The Bone Season

The man in question had a livid case of razor burn. I didn’t envy him, trying to shave with whatever dull blade had clearly been provided.

‘He’s a little better, Suzerain. Thank you,’ 22 said. ‘No sign of infection.’

‘His bravery has not gone unnoticed.’

‘He’ll be honoured to hear it.’

Nashira clapped. Four amaurotics came through a small door, each carrying a platter and the scent of herbs. Michael was among them, but he didn’t meet my eye. I had never seen him outside Magdalen.

Working quickly, they laid out a magnificent feast, avoiding the bell jar. One poured chilled wine into our glasses. A lump blocked my throat.

The platters were laden with food. Beautifully cut chicken, tender and succulent, with crispy golden skin; stuffing with sage and onion; thick, sweet-smelling gravy; cranberry sauce; steamed vegetables and roast potatoes and plump sausages wrapped in bacon – a feast fit for the Grand Inquisitor. When Nashira nodded, the others tucked straight in. They ate with enthusiasm, but without the feral urgency of starvation.

My gut ached. I thought of the performers, living on grease and hard bread, half of them left with nowhere to sleep.

Nashira saw my reservation.

‘Eat.’

It was clearly an order. I moved a few slices of chicken and some vegetables on to my plate. Carl gulped down his wine like it was water.

‘Watch it, 1,’ said one of the women. ‘You don’t want to be sick again.’

The rest of them laughed. Carl grinned. ‘Come on, that was just once. I was still pink.’

‘Yeah, leave off him, 6. He deserves a drink.’ 22 gave him a friendly punch on the arm. ‘He’s done well, for a rookie. Besides, we all had a tough time with our first Buzzer.’

There were murmurs of assent.

‘I passed out,’ 6 admitted. A selfless display of solidarity. ‘The first time I saw one on patrol. I would have been killed if not for the rest of my company.’

Carl smiled. ‘But you’re great with spirits, 6.’

‘Thanks.’

I watched their camaraderie in silence. It was mildly nauseating, but it seemed real. Carl hadn’t just found a way to survive in this strange new world – he had thrown himself in head first, and he was enjoying it.

To a degree, I could empathise. I remembered the intoxication of belonging. When I first started working for Jaxon, I had been high on that feeling for months. Maybe Carl had never found a place in London.

Nashira was as silent as me. She must take pleasure in this farce. Stupid, indoctrinated humans, learning to love the horrors they faced – all tucked under her thumb, eating her food, grateful for their servitude.

‘You’re still a pink.’ A high-pitched voice came to my attention. ‘Haveyoufought a Buzzer?’

I glanced up. They were all looking at me. ‘A few days ago,’ I said.

‘I haven’t seen you before.’ 22 raised his dense eyebrows. ‘Which company are you due to fight in?’

‘I’m not part of a company.’

‘Well, you’re a pink-jacket. You must be joining one,’ another man said, frowning. ‘Who’s your keeper?’

‘The blood-consort,’ I said.

During the ensuing silence, I took a sip of wine, allowing myself to savour their surprise. The unfamiliar alcohol burned on its way down.

Nobody could drink wine in the citadel. Then again, that was because Scion thought alcohol might turn people unnatural, and that ship had clearly sailed for the present company.

‘You’re 40,’ someone finally said.

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