The chair across from his desk waited for me.
I didn’t sit.
Caswell closed the door behind me.
The sound was soft.
Quill turned.
His gaze went first to the brooch.
“Astra.”
“Headmaster.”
“Take a seat.”
“I have been sitting in my room all morning waiting for this meeting.”
“Then stand, if it pleases you.”
He crossed to the desk and picked up a single sheet of paper.
“The formal preparation this morning was not completed.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
“You refused part of the garment.”
“I refused a band meant to make my Mark hide the truth.”
Quill consulted the paper, though I doubted he needed it.
“The left sleeve contains stabilizing reinforcement approved by Council authority.”
“Stabilizing what?”
“Your Mark.”
There. Said plainly, it sounded worse.
“You altered my mother’s dress to manage my Mark.”
“To protect the formal.”
“From me?”
“From an uncontrolled response.”
I rubbed my temples. The fire kept working at my nerves like it had been stoked for that purpose.
“You have a school full of basins, witnesses, protocols, men with titles, and a Council behind you,” I said. “What exactly are you afraid I’ll do at the formal?”
“Choose incorrectly.”
“Incorrectly for whom?”
“For everyone.”
