“What’s wrong?” I had asked.

“Hush, Ellie,” my mother scolded, but Rhyanon smiled and shook her head.

“It’s fine, Kirane,” she said. “I should pull myself together, shouldn’t I? It’s just … twenty-five is earlier than I expected.”

My mother muttered something. We left soon after that, but not before Rhyanon slipped me a packet of caramel sweets. I felt too uneasy to enjoy them.

“What did she mean, twenty-five is earlier than she expected?” I had asked.

“It’s her age.”

“How can her age be earlier than she expected?”

“You’ll understand when you’re older,” said my mother.

And I did. The older we are when we have children, the longer we live. Unless we’re unlucky. My mother was unlucky.

I headed for the Gardens. Finn and Millie would be worried; I needed to apologize. I needed to invent an explanation for my disappearance. And then I needed to go home and think.

Although I already knew, deep down, that my mind was made up.

CHAPTER

SEVEN

When the sun pierced the moth-eaten fabric of my curtains, I kept my eyes closed.

Acolytes in the neighbouring rooms opened doors and windows, and blurred voices seeped through the walls. Water gurgled up from the boiler in the basement. I had slept badly. My sheets tangled around me like vines.

Renewal duty. Again.

I sat up. Goose bumps prickled across my bare arms; the corners of my window panes were washed white with mist. Outside, the sky was overcast. A good thing. Less evaporation on cloudy days, a higher chance of rain. But I could not bring myself to care.

I dressed. No robes today, they would not be needed. I made my bed, and set a jar of salve and flask of water on my sideboard. Every movement took a conscious effort. One small action, then another. I squared my shoulders and left the dormitories.

The world outside had developed a raw, over-saturated quality. On the street, voices rang loud and crass. Colours smouldered. Even the air tasted sour, contaminated by the press of thousands of other people. I came to a stop halfway across the bridge spanning Pearl Boulevard. My skin burned, but the sweat running down my back was ice-cold.

First, I could hear Millie saying, remember to breathe.

In and out. I counted each exhalation and imagined myself alone in some vast, empty place, with only the sky surrounding me. I let the city fade.

Allow yourself to experience the fear. Denying the panic won’t make it stop. You can’t reason with feeling.

By slow degrees, the heart-thumping nausea began to recede.

But remember that feelings will pass eventually. The fear is real, very real and very frightening, but it’s also only a reaction. The feeling itself won’t harm you.

I watched the people pass below the bridge. Children, free from school for the rest day, laughed and shoved one another. A toddler sat on his father’s shoulders. He stared up at me with enormous dark eyes.