“No,” Connor said, shaking his head. “Just me.” His stomach made a funny turn at that, as if it knew he was lying. But it was difficult to know what to categorise Angie as, when they weren’t related, in the usual sense, and he had no real memories of her in his life, beyond the occasional letters. It might have been interesting, to have an older sibling – especially a cursebreaker who had travelled places he and Rebekah and Marius hadn’t, remote, dangerous places – but he wasn’t going to beg some ungrateful girl who had left home years ago to spare him any consideration. He would do better than her in life, anyway. It was better that they weren’t tied.

This Pendergast girl was a little nosy, but if she never thought before speaking Connor could forgive her for it. And he was indebted to her, for introducing him to skipping stones (an activity that was ultimately useless but also oddly addictive), so he added, carefully, “I could help you at chess. If you want to get better at it.” (Or to give him someone to play against.) Or he could accept her company for music practice, maybe. It would be useful to have someone to pressure him into practising more, even if he didn’t join the club.

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