# Harper
We stand in that for a moment. The rings are quiet. Even Maya and Benji, who were play-sparring on the far side, have drifted out of range pretending very hard not to listen.
Rowan breaks first. Not the way I expect, not with an explanation, not with a command. With a question.
“What did you smell this morning?” he asks.
It takes me a second to realise he’s not being sarcastic. “What?”
“When the wind shifted.” His voice is even. “What did you smell?”
I think back to the thread of sour, metallic wrongness that moved across the field and turned everyone into choreography. “Not blood and not rot. Like a sour smell.... kind of like if old coins and vinegar had a baby.”
Alec makes a face. “Sexy.”
Rowan ignores him. “And did you feel anything?”
I almost lie. Almost say no beca
