“She’s a Verraine,” Delphine said. “That means her reports arrive places yours or mine never would.”
“What does she write?”
“The kinds of things that look harmless until they wind up in your file.”
I looked toward the far tables again.
Cosima sat beside Caspian, cutting her bread into pieces too small to satisfy hunger.
“You know more about this than I do,” I said.
“I’ve been here longer.”
“And?”
“And I have a Mark that’s going wrong. And you have a Mark that’s reaching for the most untouchable man in school.”
We didn’t speak for a long moment. I wasn’t about to tell her I didn’t think he was the only one it was reaching for.
When the dining hall began to empty, Delphine gathered the pieces of bread she hadn’t eaten.
“My name is Delphine Moreau,” she said.
“I know. You already told me.”
“I want to make sure you remember it.”
The bread suddenly soured in my stomach.
“Why?”
“In case I’m not here next week.”
She stood before I could ask her what she meant by that.
I watched her leave without looking back.
When she was gone, I was still holding the last piece of bread she had torn.
I stood before I could sit there long enough to let her fear feel contagious.
On the way out, I looked toward the far tables.
Caspian was still there.
So was Cosima.
They looked at each other, not at me.
I went back to Room 114 with my wrist tucked deeper in my sleeve.
The lines had moved during attunement.
They had moved, and I had gone to my knees.
Now they wouldn’t settle.
7
