Chapter 4 · Too Close

"Nothing," I said. Too fast. The word bounced off the iron and came right back, and Torin tilted his head half an inch. That was all. Half an inch. His hand was still a breath above my coat.

"Say it slower," he said.

"There's nothing wrong with me."

"You already said child." His nostrils flared once. "And you smell like the line. Lie about the river. Don't lie about this."

The Lower Vault was twelve feet across. Grease, old rust, rain on the grate, the pumps grinding a bass note into my teeth. The water had my calves. The inner bolt was still his. I had nowhere to put a second exit.

"Six weeks," I said, because the almost-touch was going to land and I would rather the word be mine. "Four days before the rite. The nurse said it like weather. The herb was so you wouldn't. Kaelen said it through a door because he wants you stupid. There. That's the whole ugly thing. You don't get to take it."

The quiet that went through him had a sound. His hand came down.