Millie had warned me. My mother had warned me. And yet here I stood, with no more room for weakness. I had always known my duty; I should have put an end to this years ago. Instead, I had allowed myself to pretend that things could be different.

No more weakness. I raised my head.

“We’re done.” I looked him in the eyes. Meant it. “From now on, you’re going to stay away from me, or I’ll go to Enforcement with everything I know about the Resistance.”

Finn’s body went rigid.

“I have enough to point Commander Asan in the right direction.”

“You’re lying,” he said, breathless.

“And you won’t risk finding out.” I kept my voice level. “Cut your ties with them, Finn. It’s futile, and it will end badly.”

He clenched his fists.

“Please don’t do this,” he whispered. “Please, El.”

“Stay away from me.” No weakness. No retreat. “Or their blood will be on your hands.”

“El!”

I left him standing beneath the arbour. From the festival below, the burning effigies sent curling tendrils of black smoke up into the sky. My throat stung with the taste of ash.

CHAPTER

FIFTEEN

The Resounder’s front page featured a lurid artist’s impression of the murder. In stark black ink, the faceless assailant raised a dagger above the head of their cowering victim. Blood already splattered the ground between them.

According to the accompanying article, the attack took place in the Lokon District, in the alley dividing Tamber and Herts Street. A resident of the area had stumbled across the scene. The body was mutilated; organs cut out and strewn around the corpse, bones shattered, limbs twisted. The newspaper gleefully listed every gory detail.

Zenza Lenard. Thirty-two years old. Department of Food Management. Herald of the Blessed Star Eater. My supervisor. After I was released from the Sanatorium last year, she had brought cooked meals to the dormitories for me. She enjoyed romance novels and loved her two cats, Pounce and Skitter. She had planned to spend Moon Tide with her wife. Loyal. Funny. Sweet. Dead.

Again and again, I walked Herts Street in my mind. All those deserted buildings with their long shadows. I passed the soup-seller and climbed up the stairs to Chester. Ahead of me, I could see the unlit lamps outside Food Management. I heard soft footsteps, saw a shadow peel away from the end of the road.

When I arrived at the Detainment Offices that morning, I found them in a state of turmoil. Senior Acolytes strode down the hallways, and Heralds yelled orders to their subordinates. I found Commander General Asan in her office, scowling at a map of the city streets.

“What?” she snapped. “Who are you?”

“Acolyte Elfreda Raughn,” I said. “I was with Zenza last night.”

Her scowl deepened. She looked me up and down.

“Well, shit,” she said.