Page 34 of The Bone Season

‘Graffias hit me. I didn’t do anything, Paige, really. He said I was human scum. He said—’ Seb hung his head, and his lip shook. ‘I don’t understand why they would be so cruel to us.’

‘You don’t have to understand. Just survive.’ I nodded to the bread. ‘Eat that. Try and get yourself assigned to Magdalen tomorrow.’

‘Is that where you live?’

‘Yes.’

Seb nodded. Now he was calmer, he also seemed drowsy, unfocused. It occurred to me that he might be concussed. He needed a hospital, a doctor, but I doubted the Rephs provided those.

‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘You’re kind, Paige. I’m sorry for what happens to unnat—’ He paused, swallowing. ‘To clairvoyants.’

‘Okay. I’ll come back when I can,’ I said. ‘You just keep your head down, Seb.’

LAMPLIGHT

I had meant to find Julian, but meeting Graffias had reminded me of how little power I had in this place. In London, I had bent the streets to my will – one mention of Jaxon, and voyants sat up a bit straighter. Here I would be playing by a different set of rules.

I needed more sleep, to sharpen my judgement. Going back to Magdalen still felt like a defeat. Once the night porter had signed me back in, I trudged up the stairs to the Founders Tower.

In the parlour, I kicked off my boots. Before I slept, I would have another look around. There had to be something of interest in here.

Warden had warned me not to touch anything. Trusting my light fingers, I opened every drawer in his desk. I found three pairs of black gloves, a pen and creamy paper, matches. Nothing out of the ordinary.

A linen cabinet stood against one wall, a tall display case by another. Those looked more interesting. When I opened the display case, my sixth sense twinged. One shelf was full of exquisite drinkware: absinthe glasses, snifters, silver goblets. The others housed a collection of beautiful numa, including a crystal ball.

Now, thiswasa thieves’ paradise, for all the good it did me. I wasn’t a soothsayer, and I couldn’t steal or sell any of this. Still, my education in burglary reminded me to be thorough. I ran a hand around the inside of the display case, checking for hidden treasure.

My fingertips soon caught on something, tucked just out of sight. I brought it into the glow of the candles.

It was an ornate snuffbox – an antique, from the look of it. A delicate flower blossomed on its lid. Inside were two stoppered vials, each filled with something clear and iridescent.

I returned the snuffbox to its place, making sure there were no prints on it. It had been a long shot to think I would find anything useful in here.

A dull pain stabbed into my temple. I closed the curtains and lay on the daybed.

Now the fire had burned out, the Founders Tower was cold. I considered taking some bedding from the linen cabinet, but that would be hard to conceal from Warden, and I wasn’t about to die for a duvet. Instead, I huddled against the backrest.

As I started to drift off, I thought of Jaxon. No doubt he was sending voyants to watch the Lychgate, expecting my corpse to appear up there.

Danica and Nick lived double lives in Scion. Maybe they could track me down. Surely there must be a record of transported prisoners somewhere. I held the thought close and let myself sleep.

I woke to the sound of the door opening. By the light of the few candles that still burned, I saw the faint outline of Warden. When he walked towards the daybed, I feigned sleep.

After what seemed like an eternity, he turned away and went across the landing, towards the bathroom. This time, his booted footsteps were heavier, and I could tell he was sporting a limp.

He was in there for a good long while. In that time, I could feel every heartbeat. I listened hard, hearing the distant creak of pipes. When he returned to the parlour, he was naked as sin. I closed my eyes and kept up my act as he unlocked the door to the next room.

Only when his mind had quietened, some time later, did I rise.

From the way he had been moving, he hadn’t wanted to wake me. Somehow I couldn’t imagine a Reph being that considerate.

Not without reason.

I let in a sliver of light from outside. A lamp shone in the courtyard, beneath a predawn sky. In silence, I padded up the wooden stairs and pushed the door open. The hinges made the slightest creak.

As I had suspected, this adjoining room was his bedchamber. Darkly panelled, it was bookended by two bay windows, grander than the ones in the parlour. It also had its own fireplace.

Beside that cold hearth stood a four-poster bed. Not daring to breathe, I looked between its red curtains.

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