My gaze follows, and I see that she has been inked there too – in white. Her legs are like snowflakes – laced with white lines. Her story swims to the surface: a story of a girl who was lost and who has been found. “You brought me here, from everything I knew and believed, and then you left me – abandoned me. You’re good at that, aren’t you? It was Verity who found me.” She holds her hand again.

“I never wanted to leave you,” I said.

“And yet…” She scowls. “You are only happy when you’re tearing something down. You made me believe that my home was a lie, and that Saintstone was worse. Verity came and reached out her hand and took me with her. I have learned so much. At last, Leora, I have seen the light.”

Her scars still cover her arm. I meant them to be like a constellation of stars, a universe beyond. But it looks like the remnants of a sickness – one she was lucky to survive.

There is nothing to say or do.

There is nothing they won’t take from me.

Jack Minnow lets the silence bloom into a cloud of poisonous gas, all the time relishing my every breath – gloating over the death of a soul.

“That’s what you wanted, yes, Flint?” His voice makes my skin shiver. “I’ve given you your wish and shown you your … friend.” He drops that word like a burning coal into my hands. “Did you really think you could wield even an ounce of power over me? Threatening to tell my secrets.” His mocking voice is on the edge of laughter. “Leora, I have so many secrets. I keep them close and I nurture them. I’m master of my secrets – don’t you think by now that I have learned to make my past work for me? As if, by one fell swoop, you could ruin me: you couldn’t even make me stumble.”

“But if the people knew…” I say in a voice so weak it barely carries.

“If the people knew, so what?” he says. “When you have power, even your secrets are assets. Nothing you say can scare or control me. You are nothing – you aren’t even worth the hunt.” He stands aside, leaving my route to the door clear. “Go, Leora – leave. I have more in store for you; it would be a shame to capture you so quickly.”

I begin to walk. When I am almost past him, he calls out, “Catch,” and I put out a hand and clutch at what he has thrown.

Opening my hand, I see a small bottle – a familiar shape. A bottle of red ink. I study the label – it’s a brand I don’t know. My eyes meet Minnow’s and he gives a lazy smirk.

“A new kind of ink. Great technological advances.”

I examine the bottle again, frowning.