Chapter 6 · The Three in the Bell Tower

"Cross her name off."

Sona slapped the parchment down hard enough to rattle the pegs. "Right now. I don't care whose handwriting that is."

Ethlin didn't look up from the rope she was coiling. "It's mine."

"Then uncross it yourself."

"That's not how the rite works and you know it." Ethlin set the coil down, slow, deliberate. "Three names go up before the frost breaks. One name gets crossed off by the bell, not by me, not by you."

"The bell doesn't pick names. People pick names. You picked yours."

That landed. Ethlin's jaw moved, just barely. "Sit down, Sona."

"I don't take orders from a corpse."

"Sona." Wenna's voice, from the stairwell. Youngest of the three, sixteen winters and already gray at the temple from the cold up here. She had a cup in both hands and she froze in the doorway like she'd walked into a blade fight. "What's going on."

"Nothing," Ethlin said.

"She's on the list," Sona said. "Still. After everything I said last night."

Wenna's cup rattled. She set it down on the sill without drinking.

Ethlin finally looked at Sona straight on.