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I slumped to a seat next to her. I wouldn’t say it to anyone else. But One never made fun of me for being the abbess’s favorite, for trying so hard to be the best Diviner I could. It was just… easier, saying shameful things out loud to her, so I whispered, “I can’t wait until we’re free of that spring.”
One put her hand over mine. “Are you still up for sneaking off the tor?”
“No.” I looked at my feet. “It was a stupid idea.”
“Tell me a story, then.”
It made me a little sick to talk. Still—“We’ll go to the Cliffs of Bellidine and look out over the Sighing Sea, all six of us. We’ll shout so loud and long that our echoes will sound behind us. We’ll lie under the stars on beds of pink thrift flowers and stain our teeth with wine. We’ll sleep, but never dream.”
One inhaled slowly, like she was breathing it in. “That’s a good story.” She turned to me. “I’m sorry you had to Divine for the king. You draw the short straw so often, don’t you, Six?”
Her grip on my hand slackened, and I looked up. “One?”
There were wrinkles on her brow, the telltale sign of a furrow. One tilted her head to the side, her shrouded gaze fixed on something in the bushes near the gate. “What’s that?”
On first glance, it seemed no more than a stack of twigs. But the closer I looked, the better I could see that the stack was perfectly balanced. Six twigs that smelled sharp as nettle, wrapped in a leather strip.
Idleweed. Tied around it was a note.
Be ready by nightfall.
—R
(The idleweed is to spare my