Millie had not said a word since we left Verje’s estate. I was miserable, guilty, and increasingly anxious in the wake of her silence. This was unlike her; she was naturally expressive and carelessly sociable, but now her face was closed to me. Should I say sorry? Should I try to make conversation? Every topic that came to mind was either pathetically trivial or hideously self-involved, and while Millie had every right to be angry, I still wished that she would talk to me.

As a result, I was a little taken aback when she stopped at the corner of Swallow Road and apologized.

“What are you saying sorry for?”

Civilians passed us; we stood like rocks in a river. A grumbling man moved from one streetlamp to the next, lighting them.

“Oh, I don’t know. For being insensitive, mostly,” she said. “And for not being able to help you more. With, you know, Renewals. And your mother.”

“Oh, come on, Millie.”

“No, I mean it. A lot of the time, I kind of forget your situation.”

“If anything, you’re more patient than I deserve.” I rubbed the back of my neck. My face felt too hot. “And actually, I wanted to say thank you. For today. And all the time, really. I, uh … I appreciate you.”

Without warning, Millie stepped forward and hugged me. I made a small sound. Her grip tightened.

“You don’t have to thank me,” she whispered. She smelled like grass and dust and sweat, like summer. “But if anything else comes up, make sure that you tell me. Anything else your Herald asks for, I want to know about it.”

I suddenly felt flustered by her closeness, acutely aware of her warmth and the softness of her hair. I swallowed. Nodded. She let go of me and smiled.

“Visit Finn, okay?” she said.

“I will.”

I watched her until she vanished at the end of the road, feeling the ghost of her arms wrapped around me. She was renting a cheap room in Major West, six blocks from the South Gate. I knew that she could afford better, but Millie avoided spending money on herself. She had been that way ever since her parents died.

For the first time I could remember, I wished that I owned an estate. Maybe someday. Hanna could sleep in the barn.

The streets bustled as I made my way back up Pearl Boulevard. Merchants were setting up stalls for the night bazaar, laying out jade-coloured scarves and bronze jewellery, carved soapstone figurines and blown-glass ornaments. Moon Tide Eve was only a few days away, and business was thriving. Hungry, I stopped at a vendor selling deep-fried bean cakes. The seller dipped her ladle into the shimmering oil and fished out two, then wrapped them up in maize husks and handed them across.

As I accepted the greasy parcel, a quick movement in my peripheral vision distracted me. I looked to my left. The road was full of people, all of them moving, talking, bartering.