“Because mine is slower.”
“That doesn’t sound like an advantage.”
“It is when speed is being used against you.”
I liked that answer less than I liked her avoidance.
Juno touched the open book beside the basin.
“Do you know the beginning of your Verse?”
“My what?”
Juno watched me for one beat.
“So no.”
“No.”
“The Council does.”
The room seemed to get colder around the basin.
Juno looked down at the page, then back at me.
“I will give you the first line. Only the first.”
“Why?”
“Because it belongs to you and the first line has always been meant to guide our paths.”
That shut me up. I could certainly use a little guidance and no one had been very forthcoming with it thus far.
Juno read quietly:
“When the unheld Mark wakes, what answers will not answer alone.”
“That tells me nothing.”
“It tells you not to believe anyone who insists your Mark should reach in only one direction.”
My wrist prickled under my sleeve.
“Now I will teach you how to read the Mark on your own wrist. I have been told you’ve been looking at it. Looking is not reading. I will teach you the difference.”
“Who told you I’ve been looking?”
“You looked at it in the dining hall yesterday after your mealwith the Moreau girl. Three students reported it before lights-out. The reports are routine. They are also, in your case, on a list.”
I glanced down at my wrist, then back at Juno.
“I’m being reported on for looking at my own hand?”
“You are being reported on for everything.”
There wasn’t much to say to that.
Juno held out her hand.
