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“I’m sorry,” the boy said.

And I recognized him, finally. “Ronan.”

The boy smiled weakly. When I had met him and his family, he’d had his other arm. And he’d had a mother and a brother.

“They didn’t—?” I asked.

He shook his head.

I had known the mother wouldn’t live, but I’d hoped the younger brother might... but now they both were gone, and Ronan’s father, Dannix, blamed me.

“It’s okay,” Ronan told me as I dropped a rat into the crucible. “It’s not too bad. You don’t have to help me; go to one of the others...”

I placed one hand on his residual limb and held the golden crucible with the other. I chanted the runes, focusing on them as they burned white. I took as much of the boy’s pain as I could, but I knew it wasn’t enough.

It was never enough.

Alchemist Addrina came in to relieve me of duty soon after. No doubt, from her worried gaze, someone had told her about the man who’d attacked me.

“Go home,” she told me in a low voice.

“I can do more,” I started.

She shook her head. “Go home,” she said again. “That’s an order.”

I swallowed. The inside of my cheek was still raw from where my teeth had smashed into it, but I’d siphoned some of my own pain into the rat while I’d worked on Ronan. I hoped my jaw wouldn’t bruise. All around me, people were coming to terms with amputated limbs, lost loved ones, or a doomed foretelling of their own death, and here I was worried about looking pretty for my party.

“I can—” I started, but Addrina whirled around on me.

“I’m not saying it again.”

I ducked my head and muttered my thanks to her. I trudged down the hall, trying to block the sounds of the patients—crying, bargaining to keep their dead limbs, praying for a salvation that wouldn’t come. I couldn’t bear to look at the silent patients, the ones who had already given up.

Before I left, I paused at the desk. I needed a friendly face.

“Where is Mrs. Rodham?” I asked the receptionist. She had been the one who’d brought me to Ronan and his family; she would understand.

The receptionist’s eyes watered with pity. “Oh, Nedra,” she said. “Didn’t anyone tell you? Last night. It—her eyes turned green, and—” A green film over the eyes meant the plague was in the brain. There was no cure. It was certain death.

I walked away, unwilling to hear anything else.

TWENTY

Grey

“Greggori Astor,” Tomuscalled as soon as I pushed open the door and stepped onto the administration building’s flat roof. Tiny oil lamps decorated the rooftop, and someone had brought a gramophone to play music until enough musicians arrived to put together a band.

“Tomus,” I said, by way of greeting.

Tomus snorted. His breath stank of ale, and there was a pale brown stain of liquid on the front of his shirt. He’d started celebrating early, it seemed, but I knew him well enough to know when his drinking was for fun and when he used it to drown his anger.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” I said. “Professor Pushnil is every bit as respected as Master Ostrum, and—”

“Easy for you to say,” Tomus growled, but then his face cleared. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I may be an ass, but I’m an honest ass. Your father is in politics. You’re moving up the ranks. I’m not going to toss you out.” He leaned in closer, his eyes struggling to focus on mine. “Truce. For you and the slummer. But just you remember this,” he said. “I’ve done you a favor.”

A favor? Him? I owed him nothing just because he decided I was too valuable to pick a fight with.

“And there she is!” Tomus shouted, tipping his mug as Nedra stepped onto the roof. I rushed to her, ignoring Tomus.