Across the salle, Marsh watched my hands as if the knot had answered a question he had not meant to ask.
“She isn’t safer because we want her,” I said.
“No, she’s not.”
“But she’s safer if we can stand still when standing still is the thing required.”
“And tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow will require something else.”
Marsh looked toward the door.
“Do you know what?”
“No.”
“That must be refreshing for you.”
“It isn’t.”
The Pull softened.
Not gone.
Never gone.
Only settled back under the skin, where a man could pretend it was a private wound.
Marsh rose too quickly.
His right shoulder seized.
He kept his hand at his side until the spasm passed, then walked toward the salle exit.
At the doorway, he stopped.
“If I go to her tomorrow, it will be because she asked.”
I looked at the chalk line on the floor.
“The same for me.”
He nodded, then he left.
I remained in the salle until the lamps along the wall burned low and the building’s night staff passed the door twice without looking in.
In the upper north rooms, Astra’s Mark had reached toward Ashford and kept the rest of us near enough to hurt.
Tomorrow, the Council would ask her to choose one answer.
Tonight, the best thing we could give her was the room to have chosen.
42
Iwoke in Caspian’s rooms before the school did, naked under a sheet that smelled faintly of him.
For a moment, I kept still.
