I pulled off my robes, bunched them up, and threw them into the corner. To hell with the expense; I would buy a new set. A few meals skipped and a little of my savings—money well spent if it meant I never needed to scrub Morwin’s blood out of my clothes. I got up and walked to the bathroom. If I could just feel clean, then maybe I would be able to think straight. My mother used to tell me to focus on one task at a time, to devote myself to the actions within my control. Well, I could control washing. It was a start.

It was while I was scrubbing my arms with a wet sponge that I remembered that I had promised to meet with Finn. Guilt weighed on me; of course he would understand, if he knew, but this morning it must simply have felt like I had stood him up. I imagined him standing alone in the graveyard and waiting for me.

I wouldn’t bother you if this wasn’t important.

“Damn it,” I muttered.

There was no point, but I went anyway. In some unfathomable way, it felt like a penance. Or maybe I was just lost and lonely, and the graveyard gave me somewhere else to go. I took a cab, heedless of the expense, and sat quietly as the vehicle rumbled over Pearl Boulevard and into Minor East. I knew Finn would not be there, but the graveyard called to me all the same.

“Over here is fine,” I said, as the vehicle drew to the end of Rush Street.

A few people stood over grave markers, laying flowers or bowing their heads in prayer. I took my time reaching the usual spot. Weeds had pushed up through the soil over the untended grave; ugly clusters of spinebrush and nettle.

I stared at the marker. I wasn’t sure what I had expected. Maybe I had held vague hopes for some kind of message from Finn, but that was stupid—it wasn’t as if he would pin a letter to the ground.

I shuffled my feet, crossed my arms. He had looked such a mess yesterday, and his behaviour had seemed … off. Something was wrong.

I spat on the grave, and then hurried back to the carriage.

“Can you take me to the Candle?” I asked.

By the time we got there, the sky had grown yellow and pale with the dusk. I did not have enough money for the return trip, so I paid the cab driver and he trundled off in search of new passengers. I would walk back to the dormitories.

Lucian was sweeping out front. Sweat darkened his shirt, and his lip was fat and split. He was smiling to himself, though, until he saw me. Then his face closed off like a slammed door.

“I’m looking for Finn,” I said.

Hatred shone in his eyes, but I returned his glare with perfect blankness. He held my gaze, then snorted and continued sweeping.