Page 86 of The Bone Season

Nick took a sip of water and set out his notes. His gaze flicked up and caught on mine. The slightest frown creased his forehead.

He smoothed it away and hitched up his smile. ‘I’ll start at the beginning,’ he said. ‘Why science, of all the disciplines of Scion?’

I felt welded to my seat. My fingertips were tight on its arms.

‘In a way, it started with words,’ Nick said, glancing at me again. ‘The wordsscionandscienceboth come from Old French. When I was studying English, I forged a link between them in my head. I learnedscioncomes from a botanical term, referring to a part of a plant that is cut away and grafted to new roots …’

Suzette leaned towards me. ‘He looked at you,’ she whispered. ‘Didn’t he?’

Behind us, Clara Barnes scoffed under her breath. ‘Who would ever look at her?’

For once, I could ignore the barb. Seven years of wondering had just come to an end.

‘My father works in the same place,’ I murmured to Suzette. ‘He might recognise me.’

‘Oh, Paige.’ Clara dug her knee into the back of my chair. ‘Do you really think someone like Dr Nygård associates with kerns?’

Suzette frowned at her. I ignored her again, my jaw clenched.

Nick delivered an engaging lecture. He spoke about his life with enthusiasm, cracking jokes as he went. He told us not only about his long career in bioscience – he had been a child prodigy, enrolling at university when he was fifteen – but also his love for his adopted citadel. At the end, Clara was first to raise a hand.

‘Yes,’ Nick said, gesturing to her.

Clara stood. ‘Dr Nygård,’ she said, ‘how long before we eradicate unnaturalness altogether, do you think?’

‘I really couldn’t say, but we’re trying.’

I barely heard the remaining questions. As soon as the applause started, I almost ran from the lecture hall.

Nick Nygård was my only hope. There had never been a dog in Arthyen. I needed him to tell me what had flayed me open there. I needed him to tell me why the scars were always cold.

I needed him to tell me this before it was too late.

I was the first student to burst into the corridor. Nick emerged from the lecture hall through another door, accompanied by the Schoolmistress. When he saw me, his eyes brightened at once.

‘Hello,’ he called. ‘Did you have a question?’

After a hesitation, I walked towards him. Of course the Schoolmistress had to be there.

‘I just—’ I held my nerve. ‘Your speech was very inspiring, Dr Nygård.’

‘Thank you,’ Nick said. ‘What’s your name?’

‘This is Paige Mahoney,’ the Schoolmistress said, putting her usual stress on my surname. She gave me a glacial look, taking in my untucked shirt and loose collar. ‘Your uniform, Paige.’

Evelyn Ancroft had resented my existence from the first day I arrived. Her goal in life was to mould the finest denizens in Europe, and Scion gave her piles of money to do it. I was the only flaw.

Ancroft was known for both its academic excellence and its watertight security. After our arrival in England, my father had convinced someone in Scion to override the usual entry requirements for me, in order to protect me during and after the Molly Riots.

He had not accounted for Evelyn Ancroft. Or how long the hatred of the Irish would endure.

‘Ms Gildon would like a word with you, Paige,’ she said, while I tucked my shirt in. ‘Your arithmetic has been clumsy of late.’

‘Paige was brave to come to see me, Schoolmistress. I’d like to see if she has a question,’ Nick said. ‘Some students are too shy to put their hands up.’

‘That’s very generous of you, Dr Nygård, but Paige has never shown much interest in the sciences.’ She took him by the elbow, lowering her voice: ‘A kern case – orders from on high. These brogues make up their own minds as to how much work is necessary.’

And then, against my will, it happened. My head gave a sharp throb. A slow pressure built at the front of my skull, darkening my sight.

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