Page 31 of The Dawn Chorus

He glanced at me before taking another goblet from the cabinet and filling it. I accepted it and drank. The wine was sweet and rich and soft, and it warmed me in a way nothing else had.

‘So,’ I said, a little hoarsely, ‘how does the blood-sovereign execute her victims?’

He sat in his wing chair. ‘That knowledge will not ease you.’

‘Horrifically, then. Let’s see, now,’ I mused. ‘Cut throat? Decapitation? Maybe a good old-fashioned noose. I’ll wager they’re building a scaffold in the Guildhall as we speak.’

No reply.

The music kept playing. I wanted to ask what it was, but my mouth was suddenly like paper, my palms sweating.

‘I owe you an apology.’ Warden broke the silence. ‘If the first rebellion had succeeded, it would not have come to this.’

‘Don’t beat yourself up about it. You tried.’

‘Not enough.’

He looked into the flames. I watched the play of light in his eyes, wishing I could decipher it.

‘I could have fled the colony after it happened. Refused to take any further part in the cruelty. Lived a life in exile,’ he said. ‘I stayed because I thought it craven to run. And a part of me – small, but tireless – clung to the belief that one day, I would have a second chance to change this place. I was right to keep the faith. When I saw you flee across the rooftops on the night you were arrested – when I watched you leap over a precipice – I hoped it was you.’

I held his gaze.

‘You were faced with a stark choice on that night, Paige. Surrender to certain arrest,’ he went on, ‘or risk death for a chance to keep your liberty. You chose the latter.’

‘All that should have shown you is that I’ll do anything to save my own skin. I abandoned my father that night.’

‘It was too late for him. I imagine you knew that,’ Warden said. I looked away. ‘It was no great stretch to imagine that a determined voyant, sure enough of her own self-worth to fight to the death for her freedom, would also be sure of others’ worth. Enough to fight for theirs as well.’

I was still lost in thoughts of my father. His arrest had bought me enough time to run.

Warden moved from his chair. Next thing I knew, he was at my side, holding out a bundle of dark fabric.

‘You should not wear yellow tonight.’ His voice thrummed low in his throat. ‘You are no coward.’

Slowly, I took the bundle from him. He turned away as I shed the yellow, leaving me in a sleeveless undershirt, and slid my arms into a black sweater. I freed my hair from it before I gathered up the yellow tunic and threw it into the fireplace.

‘I keep asking myself what I’m going to do if I survive this.’ I watched it catch fire. ‘I can’t just go back to being the Pale Dreamer. Not now I know what created Scion, and why voyants are hunted. I’ll … try to rally the syndicate. Get the Underlord to listen to the survivors. Whatever happens, I won’t be silent about what I’ve seen.’ The fire crackled. ‘What will you do, Warden?’

‘Reunite old allies. Sow resentment of the Sargas. Weaken them wherever they stand.’ Warden filled his goblet again. ‘Perhaps we will meet again one day, Paige. In London.’

‘You wouldn’t like who I am in London. I’ve tried my best to shield people here, to be decent, but there … I’m a mollisher,’ I said. ‘The Pale Dreamer is a name people fear.’

‘Because she is the heir of the White Binder. You have done what you needed to do to survive.’

‘We both have.’

‘Yes. Besides,’ he said, ‘as we have long established, you do not like me. You should not care if I like whoever it is you are in London.’

I managed a faint smile.

‘Maybe I could have liked you. Maybe we could have been friends.’ It flowed out of me as if I had already dreamed it. ‘Maybe, if I was just me and dreamwalkers had never been hunted, I could have overheard you playing this old music and realised it was the same music I loved … and maybe we could have got talking about it over coffee. If we’d met in another world.’

‘A world where I was not a Rephaite.’ Warden studied my face. ‘Or you were not human.’

‘Not even that. Just a world where we had nothing to fear. From each other,’ I said, ‘or anyone else.’

Warden never broke my gaze. The wine had loosened my tongue.