Page 123 of The Bone Season

‘You can blame the dedicated censors at the Ministry of Arts. Where do you keep your records?’

‘Above this very bedchamber.’ He nodded to the ceiling. ‘The upper floors have a separate entrance, to which I hold the only key. That is where I store my records, along with most of my books.’

I lifted an eyebrow. ‘Should you be telling me this?’

‘It is a petty treason. Nashira would simply confiscate my collection if you chose to inform her.’ He locked eyes with me. ‘One might wonder how you knew my records were blacklisted.’

I should never have given that away.

‘The lyrics.’ To deflect his attention, I nodded to his goblet. ‘That drink illegal, too?’

‘Indeed. This is nectar of the amaranth flower, mixed with red wine.’

‘I’ve never heard of amaranth.’

‘I used it to treat your wound from the ethereal fence. It alleviates the pain of spiritual injuries, and may heal them, if applied swiftly. I have a limited supply, or I would offer it to you. I suspect it would help you to recuperate from dreamwalking.’

Jaxon would never let me rest again if he got wind of this.

‘You’re not a dreamwalker,’ I said. ‘Why do you drink amaranth?’

‘Old wounds.’

‘From the Buzzers?’

Warden looked at me in silence, his eyes as lambent as the fire.

Michael arrived with my supper just then. He set it down on the table.

‘Thank you, Michael,’ Warden said. ‘Perhaps you would care for a drink tonight, Paige.’

‘Will it have a sedative in it?’ I muttered. Michael gave me a sheepish look. ‘I don’t blame you, Michael. I’ll take a coffee, if you have it.’

Michael nodded and left. I uncovered the dish, letting out a small cloud of steam. This time, my supper was a pie with a perfect fluted crust, served with a generous helping of gravy, creamy mash and buttered peas.

‘This looks nice.’ I poured the gravy. ‘A bathandmy first square meal in days. You’re spoiling me. Truly, your generosity is unrivalled.’

‘You have not even started your supper yet, Paige.’ His eyes smouldered. ‘Try not to waste all your sarcasm in one breath.’

‘I’m impressed you understand it. There was me thinking you were all brawn and big words.’ I cut a hefty wedge of pie. ‘Don’t think that interruption got you off the hook. I’ve seen a Buzzer now. I want to know why you would ever choose to fight one.’

Warden waited for me to take my first bite, as if he thought he might distract me.

‘The red-jackets bear a difficult burden. When I can, I support them from the shadows,’ he eventually said. ‘I have the strength and means to seal the creatures back into the Netherworld. Their cold spots will always open again, thanks to the broken threshold and the nature of this city, but I can delay their return.’

‘But the other Rephs won’t risk the corruption you mentioned. That’s why they send us.’

‘Yes.’

He delivered all this with no emotion. As I ate, I looked at him, my brow creasing.

‘Can I be honest with you?’

‘By all means,’ Warden said.

‘I’ve lived with you for weeks, and I still don’t understand you. You go out of your way to help the red-jackets. You’re gentler than the other Rephs, but sometimes you look at me as if I’m the bane of your existence. You don’t make sense to me.’

‘Not understanding does not mean there is no conclusion.’ He clasped his gloved hands. ‘It simply means you have yet to discover it.’

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