Perhaps I could have told Osan if he had stayed. He would have been more objective about the whole thing. I needed that; just calm clarity, just a balanced account of the costs and benefits. But he had returned to the Moon House with Cyde.

“Won’t you talk to me?” asked Millie.

In the next room, Finn sat and guarded Lariel. Anything I said, he would hear. I rolled over to face the wall.

“Nothing to tell you,” I replied, without opening my eyes.

Millie stayed quiet for a minute. I could hear her fidgeting, and I wished she would go away. I didn’t want to be counselled, and I definitely didn’t want her to lie to me. What could she say? Finn was her brother, her last remaining family. Of course she would be protective, of course she would value his life above mine, but the last thing I needed was to hear her rationalising those feelings. Behind every assurance, she would be asking me to die.

“Are you angry about the Resistance?” she asked.

“No.”

“You can be honest.”

“I am.”

Another pause. “It wasn’t like what you’re imagining, we’re not like Lariel. I would never have been part of—”

“It’s not about the Resistance, Millie!” My voice cracked, and I sat up. “I don’t care that your stupid little organisation plotted to kill my friends and colleagues. I don’t care that your girlfriend murdered my supervisor. I don’t care that you sat around and discussed how terrible Sisters are, how you’re all so much better, and then acted like my best friend the next day. I don’t care.”

Millie stared at me, her mouth slightly open and her eyes wide. She struggled to speak, but I got up and stalked out of the room.

“El!” she cried after me. “El, it wasn’t like that!”

I kept walking, back through the musty corridors, and away from the lantern light. I didn’t want any of this. Lariel was laughing; the sound echoed through the passages so that it seemed like a hundred women mocking me. Finn spoke sharply, and she stopped.

I slowed at the entrance. By now the rain had petered out, and the clouds were moonlit and shining. The thorn bushes glistened where the light touched them.

I breathed in, and cold air filled my lungs. Not Millie’s fault, none of this was her doing. But why did she have to look so utterly crushed? It was like I had slapped her. All I wanted was space, a little time to come to grips with the fact that I needed to die. Was that too much to ask? Why couldn’t she have just left me alone for once?

Because she doesn’t know. Because you’re too scared to tell her.

I crouched down and rubbed my eyes. Already, I regretted the outburst. I’d really done it this time too; once I’d started speaking, the words had rushed out like grain spilling from a ripped sack.