I sighed and crossed the bridge to the Wheren District, heading back toward the dormitories.

Eleven years ago, a group of civilians had formed an underground movement seeking to topple the Sisterhood. They were not very successful, creative, or organised, but they were loud. Subversive slogans appeared on the walls, department buildings were raided, unsubtle threats of violence hung in the air. It was nothing new; Aytrium had seen hundreds of similar protests. At the time, most Sisters regarded the latest iteration of the “Resistance” with something between exasperation and contempt. With one notable exception.

I remember feeling afraid when my mother broke rank. I’m still not sure how she won their trust, but she started attending a few of the civilians’ meetings in secret. Once she even took me with her. I sat in a dark hall, listening to strangers while they talked about justice and tyranny and righteousness, and knew that—while everyone was polite and friendly on the surface—my mother and I were the enemy. Not to be completely trusted, but to be tolerated. Perhaps used.

Then someone in the Resistance poisoned a Herald. And although the Sister survived, the Order’s patience finally ran out.

The night of the incident, the Resistance had met in a school hall in Major West. A lamp tipped over. What followed next was never made entirely clear; the Order only reported that flames caught, spread, and engulfed the room.

Not a single person made it out. In one night, Finn and Millie lost both of their parents.

Although it was never publicly acknowledged, my mother later told me that the doors to the hall had been locked from the outside.

CHAPTER

TWELVE

After work, I confronted Osan.

Walking to Food Management that morning, I had noticed someone trailing me. They were careful about it, always keeping at least twenty feet away, dissolving into the crowd whenever I glanced backwards. To be certain I wasn’t imagining things, I took a slightly more circuitous route to reach the offices. Sure enough, my shadow followed me on a pointless detour through Lokon.

Got you, I thought.

I bided my time. I pretended not to notice them during my lunch hour, or when my supervisor dispatched me to collect a report from the warehouse. When I left the office at seventeenth bell, I took Grove Street and then Lerish, acting like I was heading for the Gardens. Then, two streets away from the Lower-East entrance, I abruptly spun around.

Osan could not conceal himself in time.

“Oh, Just El,” he said. “What a nice sur—”

“Why are you following me?”

A quick calculation took place behind his dark eyes. I glared at him. He sighed and stuck his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

“You’re a little more observant than I anticipated,” he admitted.

“Does Rhyanon think I’ll double-cross her? How long have you been stalking me?”

“It’s not stalking.” He frowned, mildly offended. “I’m supposed to keep an eye on you, that’s all. For your own good.”