She lies on her back, hands linked over her ribs, and stares at the low, stained ceiling of the cubbyhole. From somewhere in the building comes the sound of high-pitched singing.

“I hate this city,” she says finally, sighing.

“What is it?” Alert, I roll onto my side to look at her properly. “What’s wrong?”

There are two high points of colour in her cheeks, but her lips are pale. She turns her head to me; her eyes seem darker than usual. “They have refused my dispensation.”

I shrug; I can’t see what all the fuss is about. “So you can’t go and visit our aunt and uncle.”

Marina smiles faintly. “No, I can’t,” she murmurs. The building mumbles and creaks around us, boots sounding on the floor above, distant shouts. “Leho, if I tell you something, will you promise not to tell Jorzy?”

What can I say? I hate keeping secrets, and especially from Jorzy.

“You must promise,” Marina insists. “Cross your heart and hope to die.”

“All right, I promise,” I say, annoyed with her. How can I promise something when I don’t know what it is? But this is my sister, and I’ve never denied her anything. “If it’s that important …” I add, reluctant to hear her secret.

She is staring at the cracked ceiling a couple of feet above her head. In a low voice she says, “I’m pregnant.”

“What? Are you sure?” I whisper fiercely.

“Yes,” she says softly.

“How could you be so careless–”

“You,” she pokes my shoulder, “you don’t know anything about it.” A tear slides down her cheek. She takes a ragged breath, and looks away again. “It wasn’t my fault. It was Travester Harett, he–” Another tear runs down her cheek, landing like a raindrop on the shoulder of her dress.

I push up onto my elbow. “What? You’re saying he raped you?” I hiss, hot with anger. “Is that what you’re saying, Marina?”

Her fluid gaze meets mine, her eyes animal-dark and filled with fear. “You mustn’t tell Jorzy,” she whispers. “I don’t know what he’d do.”

Defeated, I fall onto my back, so we lie like sarcophagus twins. No wonder she wanted to hide away in the countryside. Maybe Nanna had a contact that could have taken care of Marina until she had the baby – until it could be adopted out, and she could come back. But in the city, she will have to go into hiding, in a basement or attic. Even then, what to do with a baby once it is born? You can’t keep a baby hidden indefinitely. Somebody is bound to report you to the Black Marks. I’ve even heard how the old women have ways to induce an abortion; everybody talks about it behind their hands.

“So Nanna knows–”