Page 50 of The Bone Season

I turned my head. It was too dark for me to make out the time, but I could see Arcturus Mesarthim. He sat in the wing chair, decanting medicine into a silver cup.

My lips trembled. I could still feel his grip on me, holding me back, stopping me reaching Seb as he died. I doubted he cared about the pointless murder, or the other humans enslaved in Amaurotic House. Even his dealings with his consort seemed mechanical.

He must have sensed my hostile gaze, because he looked up from his work. His eyes had settled back to a steady apple-gold.

‘His spirit,’ I forced out. ‘Did it leave?’

‘No.’

Seb had died in a state of utter fear and confusion. If no one had said the threnody, he would linger – still afraid, still alone, still a prisoner.

‘You were branded,’ Warden said quietly. ‘You must be mindful of the wound.’

‘What?’

The word escaped me as a whisper. My breathing turned ragged as I twisted to look over my shoulder, reaching for the pain with one hand, clutching the sheet with the other. A shudder of denial racked me as I found the raw numerals, burned into my skin.

‘You’ll suffer for this, Reph.’ I hissed the words between my teeth. ‘I meant what I said. You don’t know who you’ve crossed.’

Warden flicked his gaze over my face, like he was trying to read an unfamiliar language, which only stoked my anger. He must understand why I was distraught.

‘Suhail overheard your last threat. He took umbrage,’ he said. ‘To punish you, he injected you with flux, but his knowledge of human anatomy is wanting. The needle entered your femoral artery.’

I got the sheet off my leg and saw the mottled skin of my left thigh, the slew of dark purple that stained it. When I applied the slightest pressure, I had to strangle my own scream.

‘Suhail acted rashly. He has been reprimanded,’ Warden said. ‘A paramedic was called from our outpost at Winterbrook. She removed you from immediate danger.’ He picked up the silver cup and brought it to me. ‘All you need do now is drink this.’

Several amber bottles stood on the table. I looked at them in a haze of pain.

Maybe Nashirahadtried to kill me, using Suhail as her executioner. Either it hadn’t worked, or she wanted me to die a slow and painful death. Her consort was well placed to finish me off.

It could be poison in that cup. Even if it was medicine, he wasn’t offering it to me out of kindness. I clamped my mouth shut.

‘Your condition may deteriorate,’ Warden said. ‘Is that what you want?’

‘Our lives clearly mean nothing to you,’ I rasped. ‘Why do you care if I die?’

‘You are not ready.’

‘Seb wasn’t, either.’ My throat was in agony. ‘Whether you’re trying to kill me or save my life, I won’t help you. Or your consort.’

He narrowed his eyes a little.

‘Very well. I will not force you.’ He placed the cup on the table, out of my reach, and returned to his chair. ‘Inform me in your own time if you wish to live.’

‘Get fucked.’

Warden gave me a measured look. I turned my head away, my sight blurred.

I couldn’t tell you how long I lay there, weak and burning up. All I could think was how much he must be enjoying this. Now it was him with the power again; him watching me suffer and sweat.

The clock ticked on the mantelpiece. At some point, dawn broke, and the day bell rang.

Warden stayed right in his chair.

Apparently he could sit very still and do nothing for hours. He left just once and returned with a basin, which he placed beside the daybed.

My thigh looked strained and shiny, like a blister on the verge of bursting. I pressed the tender skin and kept on pressing, harder and harder, until stars burst in my vision. I had hoped it would knock me out, just so I could have a short bout of relief. Instead, I threw up. Warden watched me cough acidic bile into the basin.

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