Kyra’s head tilts to one side. “Anywhere else would be impossible for you to see.” My expression must reveal my confusion, because she explains further. “Our homes leave an indelible imprint in our memories. Your connection to Midwood will make it far less challenging than trying to read something in a town or village you’re unfamiliar with. Even so, with such limited training, you’re unlikely to be able to reach that far.” She smiles gently. “Despite being gifted.”

It’s as if she’s presented me with two poisoned goblets and asked me to choose. If I pretend to fail, Kyra will go back to easier tasks and I’ll lose an opportunity to stretch my abilities. But if I succeed, she’ll suspect that I’ve trained before. Starting an apprenticeship in the middle of the year is already unusual, and the last thing I need is to draw even more attention to myself. Under the table, I curl my fingers into my palms. Either choice is a risk, but only one of them will get me closer to my goal.

And I’m still shaken by the worry that my recurring nightmare was actually a bone reading. But even if it wasn’t, I still know the truth: One way or another, Latham is going to kill me. If I have any chance of changing my fate—of besting him and making him suffer—I need to learn as much as I can as quickly as possible.

I cover the bones with my palms and close my eyes. A tug low in my stomach pulls me into a vision and I’m suddenly in my house in Midwood. I had intended only to see the town square. To get a quick look at the sky. Instead I’m standing next to my mother’s favorite rocking chair, staring out the window. Rain patters softly against the glass. It’s the kind of day when we would have a fire burning in the hearth. A pot of stew bubbling on the stove. But the house is cold. Empty. A body without a soul.

I will never be able to escape this sorrow. It will follow me everywhere. Haunt my nightmares and darken my days.

I yank my hands away from the bones. “It’s raining,” I tell Kyra without meeting her eyes, “and chilly.”

“Well done,” Master Kyra says softly. Her voice has a quality that draws my gaze upward. She looks unsettled, and her hands tremble as she gathers the bones and deposits them into a small bag. “I can see why Latham—” She suddenly stops talking and presses the back of her hand to her mouth as if the words escaped without her permission.

“Why he wants me dead?”