“Does she?” Morah tilted her head. “Where is she now?”

“Running errands, I suppose, beyond the wall.”

“That’s what she says.”

“Then it must be true. She is not a liar.”

“You don’t launder her clothes,” Morah said. “I do.”

I didn’t see what that had to do with anything. “So?”

“Sometimes her skirts twinkle with glitter after she goes beyond the wall. Her pockets have empty packets of pleasure dust.”

“I don’t know what pleasure dust is.”

“You don’t know anything.” She thumped the trussed loin into a roasting pan. “Raven has kept you and Annin so innocent. She learned her lesson after what happened with me.”

You must be careful around Raven, Aden had said. Ask Morah. She knows better than anyone.

“She has given you a home,” I said to Morah. “She has been like a mother to us.”

Morah wiped her meat-bloodied hands on her apron. Though the window to the kitchen was small, the sunlight coming through it was strong. It burned through the room. She said, “You think that only because you don’t know what it means to be a mother.”

“Why don’t you like her?” The question burst from me. I heard how wounded it sounded.

“Nirrim, I hate her.”

“Why?” As soon as I asked I wished I hadn’t. I suddenly dreaded the answer.

“She took something from me.”

“Well,” I said, relieved that the reason was so small, “you should ask for it back. If she understands how much it means to you, she will return it. Then you will feel better.”

“You don’t understand.”

“She probably didn’t even know it was yours.”

“There you go,” Morah said, “always making excuses for her. Even when she smashes a lantern against your face and scars you for life.”

“She didn’t mean to hurt me.”

“But she did hurt you.” Morah’s hands, still bloodied around the knuckles, clenched into fists. “She hurt me. She is a thief.”

“She has given you so much. A home. Good work. Food. A family.”

She shook her head. “I haven’t wanted to say anything because I know how important all of that is to you. You looked so lost when you came here. You were thirteen but seemed so much younger. Your hands could never be empty. You always had to hold something, to cuddle it to your chest. You had a small rag. Do you remember?”