“I thought you were going,” Anne said. I couldn’t see her face in the darkness.
“I didn’t say where.”
I heard Anne sigh. “I’m going to have to phrase what I say more carefully, aren’t I?” She paused. “How did you know I’d come here?”
I shrugged. “This place suits you.”
Anne had come to a halt beside an old clay oven. I’d expected her to keep her distance but she started forward, slipping around the edge of the woodpile before sitting on the bench opposite me, curling her feet up to sit cross-legged. We sat for a little while in silence.
“It’s nice here,” I said eventually. I meant it. Despite the railway line and the streets all around, the reserve felt peaceful.
“It’s not mine.”
“You come here often, don’t you?”
“When I can,” Anne said. From across the bench I could just make out her features, dim in the starlight.
There was a pause. “So,” I said. “How’s the clinic going?”
“It’s okay.” Anne sounded tired.
“Are you still working at that supermarket?”
“Yes.” Anne looked up at me. “I don’t think you came to ask about my job.”
“I heard you left the apprentice program.”
“Is that what they’re saying?”
“Not exactly.” I paused, but Anne didn’t fill in the gap. Oh well, tiptoeing around wasn’t working anyway. “They’re saying that you got expelled because you attacked Natasha.”
Anne was silent.
“Is it true?” I asked.
“Does it matter?”
“Yes, it matters. Don’t you at least want to give me your side of the story?”
Anne sounded weary. “Why bother?”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Did Natasha attack you? Or set you up, or something?”
“No,” Anne said with a sigh. “She just . . . acted like Natasha.”
“So . . . what did you do?”
“Do you really want to know?” Anne looked up at me, meeting my gaze in the darkness. “I triggered all her pain receptors and looped them so that they’d keep firing for a couple of hours.”
I stared. I couldn’t picture Anne doing something like that. Okay, come to think of it I had seen her do something exactly like that—worse, in fact—but . . .
“It doesn’t do any permanent damage,” Anne said when I didn’t answer. She sounded defensive.
“What did she do?”
“Nothing,” Anne said in frustration. “Nothing different. She said something about what I must have done to stay in the program. It wasn’t the worst thing she’s said, it’s probably not even in the top ten, and Natasha isn’t even the worst of them. There wasn’t anything special about it. It was just . . . one last straw. That was all.”
“What were all the other straws?” I said quietly.
Anne let out a long breath. “Do you know how long I’ve been in the program?”
“No.” The first time I’d met Anne had been at Luna’s apprenticeship ceremony, almost two years ago. “Two years?”
“Three and a bit.” Anne looked at me. “Do you know how many days I went to classes and someone didn’t remind me that the Light mages didn’t want me there?”
I shook my head.
“None of them,” Anne said. “They don’t like me. Because I used to be with Sagash. Because I was staying with Jagadev. Because I’m a life mage. Because I was arrested for murder and some of them think I should have been found guilty. If it’s not one reason it’s another, and I’m tired of it. You know the first thing I felt when I found out that I was expelled? It was a relief. Because I wouldn’t have to keep seeing them every day. Back when I joined the apprentice program I thought I was going to be part of the Light mages, that I’d get accepted someday. Then when I had to deal with girls like Tash and Christine I thought they’d get over it, it wouldn’t last, but . . . it never stops. I’m so sick of the way things work in the classes, with the Light mages. I’m tired of the other apprentices whispering behind my back, of how whenever we do pair work the teachers take my partner aside where they think I can’t hear and ask if they’re okay with being paired with me. I’m tired of being shut out, the looks, the jokes. I’m just tired.” Anne fell silent.
“That’s been going on all this time?” I said quietly. I’d known that Anne and Variam weren’t popular, but I’d never known it was this bad.
“I didn’t want to talk about it,” Anne said wearily. “And it’s not that bad, not any one day. It just . . . it adds up. Most of the Light mages, the teachers, they’re not horrible. But I’m not one of them. And they never let you forget it.”
I was silent for a moment. “I know what you mean.”
Anne wasn’t telling me anything I hadn’t found out myself. The Light mages of the Council are close, an extended family—even when they fight amongst themselves they still basically understand one another. To them, Dark mages are the other, their ancient enemy, and if you’re associated with a Dark mage then you’re always on the outside, never fully trusted. It’s part of the reason I’ve always felt a kinship with Anne and Vari—I know what it’s like to be shut out. “Do you need any help?”
“I don’t want to go back to the apprentice program.”
“You don’t have to.” I chose my words carefully; I was getting onto dangerous ground now. “You could move back in at my shop.”
Anne was silent. “I know you’re settled here,” I said, “but it’s not the safest place long-term. Your flat doesn’t have any wards, and with what happened . . . well, people are going to be sniffing around.”
Anne didn’t look at me. “Did someone tell you to ask me that?” she said at last.
I didn’t want to bring up Luna’s name. “Ah . . .”
“It was Luna, wasn’t it? Was this whole thing her idea?” Anne shook her head. “I asked her not to do this.”
Anne can be scarily good at reading people. “She’s worried about you.”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“I’m not a wilting flower.” There was an edge in Anne’s voice. “I can take care of myself.”
“That’s what everyone thinks until they find out they can’t.”
Anne turned to look at me. “Is that what you’re here for? To tell me that?”
“I’m telling you that you’re painting a bull’s-eye on your back,” I said. “You and Vari aren’t exactly short of enemies. What do you think they’ll do if they find out that you’re not under anyone’s protection?”
“When I was living with you last summer, I had a bomb go off over my head,” Anne said. “You aren’t exactly the safest person to be around either.”
“You know what I mean!”
“No, I don’t. What do you want?”
“I’m trying to stop you from doing”—something really stupid—“something that might get you killed. Okay, you don’t want to stay in the apprentice program. But if you’re not doing that, then you’re going to have to do something else. Can we at least sit down and go through the options?”
Anne looked back at me for a few seconds before answering. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m tired of spending my life being told what to do,” Anne said. “Sagash, Jagadev, the Light teachers. You.”
“Okay, what?” I said. I was starting to get angry now. “All the time you and Vari were staying with me, I barely asked anything from either of you.”
“No,” Anne said. “You killed five adepts instead.”
What felt like cold water spread through me, and my anger flickered and died. “I know you didn’t do it yourself,” Anne said. “But you were the one who set it up.” She looked at me. “I thought I could trust you.”
“Then what do you think I should have done?”
“I don’t know,” Anne said simply. “All I know is that the longer I spend with mages, the more I get shaped into what they want me to be. And I don’t want to become the kind of person who could do what you did.”