Rhyanon offered Millie her chair, and then gently excused herself. In the doorway, she murmured something to Asan.
The Commander nodded in response. “You should be resting anyway. I’ll take care of it.”
Rhyanon glanced back and gave me a weary smile. I wanted her to stay, I realised. There were so many questions I still needed to ask, about Renewers, about what would happen next, but most of all, I craved reassurance from her.
I pushed aside my feelings. When I gestured thanks, she turned away. Asan ushered her out into the corridor.
“There’s been a development,” I heard the Commander say.
Millie sat with her knees hugged to her chest. Her skin had turned an ugly, blotchy red, and she seemed small and drained. Completely unlike her usual self.
“I really should have left a note for you,” I said.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
“For what?”
“I left you alone. I poisoned you, and then I left you all alone. Could have put off paying for the stupid stuff until later.”
“Millie,” I said quickly. “Come on.”
She shook her head. I hesitated, then patted the bed beside me.
“Sit closer? Please?”
Millie unfolded from the chair and moved next to me. I found her hand, laced my fingers between hers. Her palms were clammy, and she had bitten her nails down to the quick. She hunched her shoulders, and I could tell she was trying hard not to start crying again.
“Look,” I said. “I’m all right. Everything is all right. Really, all that happened was that I got punched in the head. You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“But those people could have killed you,” she said hoarsely. “And now Finn’s locked up, and the Commander’s telling everyone you’re dead—”
I straightened. “Wait, where is Finn?”
“Judicial custody.” Asan walked back into the room. “Don’t look so alarmed, we worked out a story together. As long as he sticks to it during the inquiry, they’ll let him go by tomorrow.”
“Rhyanon never mentioned that.” My heart quickened. “Is he at the Detainment Offices?”
“No, he was transferred to the Judicial Affairs holding quarters to await official questioning.” She leaned against the wall. “This is all standard procedure, and your friend is perfectly fine. He went there of his own accord.”
I looked to Millie for confirmation. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, then nodded.
“After Finn told me how to find you, he said he needed to return to Enforcement,” she said. “He seemed exhausted, that’s all. Not hurt.”
Even so, I hated the idea of Finn being interrogated by the Order. I still couldn’t understand what he had been doing in Ceyrun in the first place, but with Asan present I felt uncomfortable raising the issue. The Commander sensed my disquiet.
“He knows what to say,” she assured me. “Judicial Affairs has no reason to doubt his testimony, especially since he’s being so cooperative.”
“But what if they do?” I asked.
“They won’t.”
“And what about the people who know he’s lying? You don’t think they’ll try to discredit him?”
She looked at me, reappraising. “Will they know he’s lying? All he’s claimed is that you never showed up for drinks with some friends. Could be true, as far as they’re concerned.”
“The people who attacked me saw him.”
“It was dark, and they saw a man. City’s full of them. Listen, Raughn, all your friend is doing is placing you on the right street, at the right time, to be murdered. The rest is on me. Besides, if my esteemed colleagues want to take him down, they’re going to need to provide a better story. They’re aware that I’m looking to hang them, so I can’t see them risking that kind of exposure.”
I tried to shake off my unease. What she said made sense, and yet it all seemed to rely on presumptions and chance—that Celane would not find fault in Finn’s story, that none of her hired killers would tip her off to his role in the attack, that she would be too afraid to test Asan’s mettle. The Commander made it sound simple and risk-free, but it wasn’t.
And the worst part was that I felt certain she knew that too. Asan had probably not meant for Finn’s involvement to go beyond providing a statement to Enforcement.
But it was too late to change anything now. I turned to Millie.
“Can you go to him?” I asked. “Tell him I—tell him a mutual friend said thank you. And to be careful.”
“I’ll try, but I don’t know if they’ll let me in.”
I forced a smile. “I’ve always had complete faith in your powers of persuasion.”
To my distress, Millie’s eyes reddened. I awkwardly opened my arms, and she lurched into the embrace, burying her face in my shoulder.
“Hey now,” I murmured. “This isn’t like you.”
She hugged me tighter. Her hair was soft as cat fur against my cheek, and smelled of soap. I relaxed a little, glad to have her near me.
“I was so scared,” she mumbled. “Didn’t know what to do with myself.”
“You should talk to a counsellor about that. I can recommend one.”
She sniffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I happen to think mine is wonderful,” I said. “Although she is making my shirt kind of wet at the moment.”
Millie drew away from me with a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “I’ll talk to Finn.”
“Stay out of trouble,” I said.
Asan waited for Millie to leave the room. Then she straightened and stretched her shoulders.
“You know, she turned up at the Detainment Offices on her own,” she said conversationally. “Flat-out refused to leave until she could speak to me. There aren’t many people who try shouting me down, least of all civilians.”
I winced at the thought, and Asan smiled slightly.
“Tears aside, she’s quite formidable,” she said. “I’ll keep an eye on her while you’re recovering, make sure she doesn’t come to any harm. Did Herald Hayder explain your situation?”
I nodded.
“Then you’re taking it better than I anticipated.” She reached into the pocket of her robes and drew out a small brown sachet. She tossed it to me. “Here. That’s for the swelling. It’ll also probably put you to sleep.”
“I feel fine.”
“You certainly don’t look it.” She glanced out the window. “I have to return to work before my absence is noted.”
Alone, I opened the packet. The powder inside had a pungent smell, like crushed mint and something deeper, earthier. Not unpleasant, exactly, although not appetising either. I stared at it, and my hands began to shake.
Then you’re taking it better than I anticipated.
“Yeah, right,” I muttered.
I poured the powder into my mouth and washed it down with the last of my cold tea. Then I lay back and gazed at the ceiling.
They were going to martyr me.
They were going to eat me alive.
My thoughts churned, spiralling between Finn and Osan and Millie, dead bodies cut apart for lace, my mother, the remedy I had taken, Millie asking what I wanted, the idea of a child, Rhyanon stroking my hair, Lucian’s burned hands and the woman breaking that rod, the feeling of a leather ball falling into my hand like a gift. And my own future—to be hunted and consumed for the sake of Aytrium.
I woke chilled and thirsty. The windows still stood open, but it was dark outside. I got up and found that my dizziness was gone, along with the lingering pain in my stomach. When I touched the side of my head, it felt tender but much less swollen, so whatever Asan had given me seemed to have worked. I crossed the floor and closed the windows quietly.
A lamp burned in the room at the end of the corridor. I padded down the hallway on bare feet, wrapping my arms across my chest to keep warm.
Osan slouched on a kitchen chair with a cheese sandwich and a jug of water in front of him. He had no shirt on, but his shoulders were entirely bound up in gauze and bandages. He jumped when a floorboard squeaked under my heel.
“Hello,” I whispered.
“Oh, it’s you.” A smile broke across his face. “Just El, back from the dead.”
“You’re one to talk.” I walked over to the shelf and found myself an empty glass. “Wasn’t Commander Asan sticking you full of needles?”
“Hah. Not exactly my idea of a good time, but she put me back together all right.” He leaned forward. “How are you feeling?”
“Hm.” I sat down opposite him and poured water into my glass. “Has Rhyanon told you?”
“About you? Yeah, earlier this evening. She filled Kamillian in at the same time.”
I drank and set the glass back on the table.
“I’m terrified,” I said.
“I can’t really blame you.”
“And I’m angry.”
“At?”
“Everything.”
“Fair enough.”
“The Order has Finn in Judicial Custody. Commander Asan says it’s nothing to worry about, but I think she’s lying. Osan, if something happens to him—”
“He’ll be fine,” he said, although he sounded a little too confident, a little too quick to be entirely believable. Ever since that first ride to Kisme’s farewell party, Osan had spoken straight with me, no pretence, no ceremony. No bullshit. Now he was … acting. My eyes lingered on his bandages. Had his feelings changed after last night? Or did he see me differently, knowing what I was? I dropped my gaze to the table.
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “Of course.”
“You’re not going to stop worrying, are you?”
“No.” I rubbed my arms, and glanced up. “So Millie came back?”
“Earlier this evening, but she didn’t want to wake you. She’s gone again now.”
“Do you know if she managed to speak to Finn?”
He shook his head. “She might have, but I don’t think so. Sorry.”
“No, that’s…” I hesitated. “Osan, are you—are you sure you’re okay? I didn’t expect you to be up so soon.”
“I’m a whole lot better than dead.” He smiled again and made a gesture of dismissal. “Rhyanon says I got off lightly, all things considered.”
A low creaking sound issued from the pantry, and I looked around in alarm.
“Just the Commander, I think,” said Osan. “The entrance to the cellar’s through there.”
A few seconds later, Asan appeared in the doorway. She was still dressed in her Enforcement uniform, and carried a heavy bag over one shoulder. She seemed surprised to find both of us sitting at the kitchen table in the middle of the night.
“Is Hayder asleep?” she asked Osan.
“As far as I know, yes.”
“Good. You should be too.” She hefted the bag higher on her shoulder. “Raughn, a word? In private?”
“Of course.” I got to my feet. “Is something wrong, Commander?”
“It’s just a personal matter.”
“In that case, I’ll head back to my room.” Osan stood up. He moved far slower than before, and the image of the bolt protruding from his shoulder flashed through my mind, the blood soaking his back. “Good night to both of you.” He wavered, and then added. “Elfreda … I owe you one.”
“For what?”
He trudged out of the kitchen. “For staying by my side last night.”
So that was it, the source of his new awkwardness. I wanted to tell him not to be stupid, anyone would have done the same, but he was already in the corridor. Asan picked up the lamp from the table.
“Let’s talk in the central conservatory,” she said. “No chance of being overheard, and it’s a little more comfortable.”
The mansion, I discovered as I followed her through a sumptuous sitting room filled with upholstered chairs covered in pale dust sheets, was grander than my guest bedroom had suggested. The furniture gleamed in the shifting lamplight, polished hardwood and gold finishes, embroidered velvet and silver piping. Opulent, certainly, but the whole place possessed a curious air of sterility—as if no one had ever really lived here. Which I suppose was true, if the Reverend who owned it resided outside Ceyrun.
The conservatory was ensconced between two wings of the house, shielded by double-storey walls on two sides and adjoining the main foyer to the south. Through dusty glass roof panels, the thin moon shone like the edge of a knife. Bright-leafed creepers ran up elegant trellises on the walls; pomegranates and grapes, flowering sweet peas. A line of low couches ran beside stone-topped cabinets. It was warmer in here; sunlight had soaked into the marble floor tiles during the day, and now the heat gently radiated up from the ground.
Asan walked over to a cabinet and crouched before it. I trailed after her. She rummaged around and pulled out a dark bottle from the lower shelf.
“Probably shouldn’t mix alcohol and medication, but after the week you’ve had…” She proffered a metal tumbler. “Hold this.”
I took it from her uncertainly. She returned to searching the cabinet.
“I figured we probably won’t have many opportunities to talk,” she said. “Celane’s increased the number of people tailing me. Real fucking pain in the ass. It’s almost impossible to slip away during the day now.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“What can you do?” She found a corkscrew and jammed it into the top of the bottle. “You seem much better. That’s good.”
“May I ask a question?”
She pulled out the cork. “Sure.”
“Why aren’t you martyring me?”
She snorted.
I kept my voice measured and calm. “Rhyanon said that you don’t intend to harm me, and I believe her. I’m just not sure that your decision makes much sense.”
Asan motioned for my tumbler. I held it out, and she filled it.
“Sit,” she said.
I lowered myself onto one of the couches. The Commander remained standing. She had not poured a drink for herself.
“When we brought you here last night, your eyes were bloodshot,” she said. “You seemed severely dehydrated, and when I spoke to Osan, he mentioned that you were feverish and weak before the attack. You told him it was heatstroke.” She sat on the edge of the cabinet. “That was a lie, wasn’t it?”
I shook my head.
She sighed. “You started bleeding while you were unconscious.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You have terrible timing, Raughn. Not that you could have known.” She finally filled her own tumbler. Drank. “Kamillian Vidar helped you get hold of the remedy, didn’t she? No one would ever sell it directly to a Sister.”
“There was no remedy,” I snapped, my voice too loud. “Leave Millie alone.”
Asan nodded to herself. She drank again.
“You’re probably aware that I don’t have a daughter.” She set down her tumbler. “That’s always been a blot on my reputation. The old guard love it—my barrenness as a sign that I’ve offended the Eater. You must have heard that?”
I gripped the tumbler tightly within my fist and said nothing. Asan could play whatever games she liked; I wasn’t going to betray Millie. She seemed to read that from my face; she smiled slightly and shrugged.
“You have,” she said. “Sisters talk; it doesn’t bother me. But what you might not know is that I did have a son.”
I tensed.
“Very briefly, of course,” said Asan. “I never even got to hold him.”
“I—”
“And after that experience, I vowed never again,” she continued. “So I took steps to make sure of it. At first, only the emergency solutions. Then a more permanent one.”
I looked down, shaken. “You should not be telling me this.”
“You’re supposed to be dead, Raughn. Who are you going to share my secrets with?” She looked aside. “Listen, we never need to talk about what you did. That’s absolutely fine. But if you should want to, I might just be the only Sister who understands. No judgement, no repercussions.”
I turned the tumbler around in my hands.
“Does Rhyanon know?” I asked.
“She does.”
I should not say anything. I had promised Millie. But there was a hard ache in my throat, and all my feelings were pressed up so suffocatingly tight, that I could not quite help myself.
“Was it the right choice?” I asked. “If you could go back, would you have changed your mind?”
“Never.”
I raised my eyes. Asan met my gaze evenly.
“I can only speak for myself,” she said, “but if I think about what I lost and what I gained? It was right for me.”
She wore such a serious expression and spoke so directly that I could not doubt her. I lowered my head again.
“I see,” I said.
She gave me time to think, letting the silence stretch. Imagining Asan as an Acolyte, as someone who had faced the same fears and made the same choices, brought me an odd kind of relief. She might have been far stronger than I was, but perhaps strength could be learned. Perhaps I could be that sure of myself one day.
Eventually, Asan sighed. She stuck her hand into the pocket of her uniform and took out a vial.
“This is for you,” she said. “Osan told me that you were out of lace.”
The sacrament glistened dark red.
“Who does that belong to?” I asked warily.
“Which martyr? My mother.”
“I can’t accept it.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She pushed herself off the top of the cabinet and held the vial out to me. “Do you want to face another attack without the means to defend yourself? No? Then take some basic precautions.”
“But it’s yours.”
“I doubt this will make you feel better, but I recently consumed a huge amount of lace that ‘belonged’ to Jiana Morwin’s daughter.”
I swallowed.
“Consider it recompense for failing to reach you before last night’s attack,” she said.
I took the vial unhappily. “Thank you.”
“It’s nothing. Hopefully you won’t even need it.”
“Commander?”
“Yes?”
I felt apprehensive about broaching the topic, but she had alluded to it herself.
“Rhyanon told me that she realised I was the Renewer at Geise’s Crown.” I quickly pressed on, my words coming out in a tangled rush. “I just—what did she mean? How did she know?”
Asan grimaced. “Ah.”
“I understand that you probably don’t want to talk about that night.”
She made a dismissive gesture. “It’s fine, this is just a very ugly affair all round. We knew it was you because of the way the Haunt behaved in the basement. They always target whoever has the most lace. That one never took its eyes off you. I’m sure you noticed.”
“I did.” I shifted on the couch. “So that was it?”
“Seems too easy, doesn’t it?”
I didn’t know if I would have described anything about that night as “easy.” “Which meant that Morwin would have realised too. That I was the Renewer.”
“Yes.” Asan smiled without a trace of humour. “Joining the dots, Raughn?”
I thought of the book I had read in Celane’s library. Thought about her reading it. All the marked pages.
“A Haunt, that mature?” Asan took another drink. “It planned. It knew to wait until its friend showed up so that our forces would be divided. It knew to use Hayder as a lure. It anticipated us, and we waltzed right into its trap. That’s not typical Haunt behaviour; they aren’t supposed to strategise.”
“A new intelligence emerges in the absence of the old,” I murmured. Pieces slid into place. “The Order should have found that Haunt sooner. If it was so far gone, it would have attacked someone long before the symposium.”
“Exactly.”
“Unless it could be contained.” My voice dropped. “Locked away and kept secret. Somewhere out of the way, somewhere private and secure, where it could develop unnoticed.” I clenched my fists. “Like Verje’s barn.”
Asan spread her hands in acknowledgement. “Like Verje’s barn.”
My mouth twisted. I had missed it. All along, I had missed that Verje was concealing a monster, even though it had been right in front of my face.
“Hide away your Haunts until they’re fully turned.” Asan leaned back. “Then, under a reasonable pretext, gather both your enemies and the two Sisters most likely to be the Renewer. Release the monsters, watch who they run to, let the carnage unfold. Snatch your prize out of the Haunt’s claws at the last moment.”
“After you and Rhyanon are dead.”
“It’s a very convenient tragedy, and almost impossible to link back to the perpetrators. Celane wasn’t even there, so her hands stay clean. Luckily for me, Morwin miscalculated when she tried to force her little accident.” Asan shook her head bitterly. “Clumsy, really. With that much lace at her disposal, she could have pushed much harder.”
I remembered the look on Morwin’s face when I had stopped her lace. She had not believed it would take more power. Why should she? Asan had made a point to tell Herald Lien that she had not performed the rite recently. The Commander should have been defenceless.
“You made sure that Morwin would underestimate you,” I said.
Asan sighed. “To be honest, I thought Jiana might try to knock me off the roof. I wanted to force her into the open before the Haunt demanded my attention.”
“You had a protective net in place the whole time?”
“Only on the roof. After that, I was, well, distracted. Hayder says that you shielded my back in the basement. Thank you for that.”
“But … but did she really think she could hold off both Haunts on her own?”
“Raughn, you need to understand—the lacework that Sisters currently wield? Pathetic, compared to the works of our predecessors. But gorging gives you a glimpse into what’s really possible with sufficient raw power. It’s…” She paused. “It’s completely different. Frightening, but the sense of invincibility is more than a little intoxicating. I mean, just consider the fact that, all those centuries ago, the Eater lifted all of Aytrium into the sky. Imagine having that kind of power, imagine what you could—”
She noticed my expression and stopped talking. The fervour faded from her face.
“But then there’s the cost,” she said softly. “And the question of who must pay it.”
I smiled thinly. “From what I can gather, payment is the Renewer’s responsibility, Commander.”
She pressed the back of her hands together in the gesture for vow-taking, a sign usually reserved for commitments to the Eater.
“Not while I have anything to do with it,” she said.
I was too taken aback to react, then quickly gestured negation. “There’s no need for that, I was only joking.”
She reaffirmed the gesture, then lowered her hands.
“I will not see you martyred, Raughn,” she said. “Not just because it would be a terrible and cruel waste, but because it goes against my most ardently held principle.”
“What principle?”
Asan smiled wryly. “That we can be better than this.”