I shrugged off my work robes and stuffed them under my desk. Beneath, I wore ordinary civilian clothes. Without the uniform, people would not immediately recognise me as a Sister. I returned to Finn.

“Everything under control?” He straightened.

I nodded. “Thanks for coming to meet me.”

“No problem. So, about making it up to you—will you let me buy you a drink?”

“Tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“Is that a good idea? People might … well. I don’t know. It is Moon Tide, after all.”

“If you don’t want to, it’s fine,” he said gently.

“No, I do. Of course I want to. You know that’s not the problem.” I was flustered. “I’m just worried about what people will think.”

“Let them think what they like, El. Besides, no one’s going to recognise you. No one important, anyway.”

I wavered.

“You have to take a break sometimes,” he coaxed. “Have fun. Live a little. Like you said, it’s Moon Tide.”

I sighed. “You sure about this?”

“Of course.”

“Then at least let me buy.” I rubbed the side of my neck. “As an apology for the terrible food last time.”

Finn grinned. “I guess I can live with that.”

CHAPTER

FOURTEEN

We left Food Management through the back entrance onto Grove Street, and crossed over the Stonelay Bridge to loop around the edge of the district. Only after we reached the line of dark, shining greenhouses did I allow myself to relax. Finn was right; I needed a break. My visions had probably been getting worse for a reason.

He had been quiet for most of the walk, but when I caught his eye, he smiled.

“So, how are your spurlegs?” he asked.

“Spurwings.”

“Right. Those.”

I tucked my hands into my pockets. “Not too bad. The adults have finished breeding, so they’re ready to be harvested, and the new eggs will hatch in about two weeks. We’re thinking of increasing the temperature of their habitat; see if it makes them grow larger.”

He tilted his head to one side. “Really?”

“It worked surprisingly well for the waxbeetles, but only when we also lowered the heat during their egg and larval stages. That seems crucial; my theory is that the eggs are usually dormant and buried until the end of winter, so early development occurs more naturally in colder conditions.”

“Like they hibernate?” he said mildly.

“Exactly! It’s quite funny; you should see when they hatch.” I found myself laughing. “All of them worm over to the west-facing trays to catch the afternoon sunshine. The manager thought they’d escaped the first time it happened—it was hilarious. And then, six weeks later, they’re almost twice as large as their parents. So we try it with the next generation: same results. Obviously we can’t let them get too hot either, because that seems to interfere with their reproduction, and they become strangely aggressive.” I paused, and my face grew warm. “Feel free to stop me at any time.”