Page 16 of Queen of Nothing

A gorgeous piece.

Not something I ever wore around Bluestone. I only really wore small, subtle pieces at Bluestone. But some sentimental pieces, I brought with me and kept in the jewellery box. Maybe so I could look at them sometimes and remember moments when I mattered. Even if they were all pretend.

The train rattles to another stop and jolts me out of my spiralling reminiscence.

I glance at Serena.

She shakes her head.

Not our stop.

The impatience huffs out of me, and I hug my bag closer, tighter.

People get on, people get off.

The closer we get to the city, the more it fills up in the carriage. The two seats opposite us are taken by two men in cheap suits, tapping away on their phones.

A woman squeezes by me, her thigh brushing against my shoulder, and I hiss in response, jerking back into Serena.

But the woman doesn’t notice.

Goes on like she didn’t touch me.

I feel the need to shower again.

Mother told me that krums have more diseases than we do. But we can catch them.

I make a note to burn my jacket.

I lean closer to Serena and stare out the window.

The city rises in the distance first, then as the minutes pass, it grows around us, dense and tall.

The noise of the platform has a strange echo to it, but it also roars, and the chaos of the people moving in every direction cringes my bones.

Hand in hand, Serena leads the way through the crowd, through the station that’s almost as large and convoluted as the airports we’ve bounced around.

But finally, when we find our way out into the cold, crisp breeze of the city streets, my shoulders relax and I breathe a little easier.

Cities, I’m used to.

Not without a chaperone, usually, but London I’m familiar with, and I can navigate that one just fine.

I’ve been to this particular city before.

But not with Serena.

I came here, every time, with the Sinclairs.

Some of our annual trips.

Mother loves Zürich. Loves the quiet luxury and subtle wealth of the city.

But being here, with just Serena, everything feels enormous. Loud.

Dangerous.

The unease is a fist tightening around my gut, and—as though in sync—my grip firms around Serena’s.