‘Here,’ said the grey boy, proffering her his jumper, ‘put this on.’ Miku bit her lip, glancing across the room at her brother. He was in deep conversation with the Lieutenant, but she hadn’t missed the hard look he’d thrown this boy’s way. For whatever

reason, Masahiko didn’t trust him. So should she?

‘It’s nice and warm,’ the grey-skinned boy pressed, holding the woollen mass at arm’s length,

‘I promise.’

Miku took a deep breath and counted to ten in English. Then in Japanese. Then in broken

French.

The grey-skinned boy looked at her in confusion, arms wobbling from holding out the jumper

for so long. The corner of his mouth tugged down in defeat.

Miku finally took pity on him and accepted his gift, noticing a small line of stitching at the

collar. Five letters. OSWIN.

‘Thank you,’ she said, but Oswin acted as if he hadn’t heard her. He was too busy staring at

the snake boy, the one who’d introduced himself as Selander, a delicate expression taking over

his features. Miku recognised it as the way her brother looked at a particularly nice slice of pie.

Complete adoration. He quickly joined the rest of the group crowding around the wall of maps,

slotting back into place at the snake-boy’s side.

Meanwhile, Miku shrugged the dark fabric over her head. Oswin was right, the jumper really

was warm, even if it stank like a furnace. A harlequin’s diamond pattern was meticulously

stitched in alternating shades of black and grey across the chest. The arms, and sleeves, were

black as midnight, dark as shadows.