I sit back in my chair, appraising Anders. He agreed to let her in the guard at first, especially if it meant giving her up. He got his wish. So now what is his problem? Did the lab results really change his mind that much? We can work around her inability to shift. It’s not that big of a deal.
“Why did you reject her application after everything you said and did at her interview?”
He shuffles his paperwork on his desk. “I’ll give you a few reasons. She’s not a good candidate. She’s a female. Her magic is out of control, and she is a danger to those around her. Now, let this shit go and return here ready to do your job on Sunday.”
“You’re so full of shit,” I mumble under my breath.
“What the fuck did you just say to me?” he snarls.
I narrow my eyes at him. “You heard me. She had control of her magic. She aimed it directly at you, as if you were an opponent who needed to be killed. You would be dead right now, if she didn’t have control. Her fighting skills may need some work, but just barely because I saw you fight her with everything you had. You know just as well as I do that her gender doesn’t matter, not when she’s a royal. So, I think you owe me an honest explanation for your decision.”
He tosses the stack of paper back on his desk and rubs his face. “Did you not see her?”
Of course I have. I’d be blind not to notice her.
He lets out a frustrated sigh. “Honestly, can you imagine a bunch of sixteen- and seventeen-year-olds, newly transitioned—or soon to be—male shifters, sniffing around my daughter? It would be a disaster!”
The image of twenty-five hormonal teenage boys turns my gut. Despite how protective I feel over her, Jessica needs tomaster her magic and to learn how to defend herself, even more so with her inability to shift.
“You told her she couldn’t go to college after Professor Hocson talked to you.”
Anders meets my eye directly. “You and I both know that it is out of the question. A seventeen-year-old girl around a bunch of horny college boys won’t make things better, not to mention the risks. We still don’t know if that Powers girl talked to the Resistance.”
No, I don’t like that idea any better either. I said it simply to determine his thoughts on the matter. “What about the academy? Your boys are there.”
“Shadow, what do you want from me?” he asks, rubbing his forehead and closing his eyes. It's more than just the fact that she’s beautiful.
“You can’t keep her locked up.”
“Do you think I like keeping her isolated? I’m doing all that I can to keep her safe, and even then, it’s not enough! She can’t transition because of what those assholes did to her!” Anders pounds his fist on his desk.
“You can’t be with her every second of her life. If you train her to defend herself, train her to control her magic, her chances?—”
“Her chances may very well be written in the damn stars already! My bloodline is cursed! That’s why I am trying all that I can to keep her alive!”
“What if your precautions only make it worse?”
“Get the hell out!”
“No. Anders, think about it. If you isolate her, keep her hidden here, you’re just making it easier for them to find her, unarmed, untrained, magic out of control. She’s defenseless! What happened shouldn’t be a reason to run and hide. It should be a reason to fight! You taught me that. You send magicwielders to the academy to learn to use and control their magic, to fight to save their lives. And yet you refuse to do the same for your own daughter.”
“Get out!”
I stand up and step toward his desk. He won’t give in, won’t listen, so I use the only tool I have left. “Then, I quit.”
I reach into my suit’s inner pocket, retrieve my pen, and lay it on his desk. Then I unclasp my watch—dammit, I really love this watch. I place it next to the pen.
“This is my official resignation, effective immediately. I will not stand by and let you kill your daughter, without giving her a chance—a real chance—to fight. It’s unfortunate that she will never live her life as a shifter, but that doesn’t change who she is, what she is. There is so much more to her than the ability to transition into a wolf. She needs you and this program to see that.”
I turn and immediately walk out of his office, slamming the door behind me. I stand face-to-face with Elias and Chris. They motion for me to follow them into a classroom down the hall.
Chris sits on one of the desks. “I was worried for a while that you had lost your touch.”
I cross my arms. “Whatever gave you that impression?”
“Oh, I don’t know—the fact that you smile, laugh, make jokes, actually interact with others,” Elias adds.
I shrug. “What do you want? I’m a late bloomer,” I deadpan.
