The Tower had left the open lines intact.
It had ordered them preserved.
For review.
That was interest, not mercy.
Interest from the Tower was worse.
Astra read the words twice. I knew because her lips parted on the second pass, though she did not speak.
Caspian read them once and understood enough to inch closer to her.
Marsh read them and smiled.
It was a terrible smile.
Brave in the stupidest possible way.
But that was Marsh.
Quill lowered his hand.
“The Tower has spoken.”
I watched the black water fade back to silver around Juno’s hand.
The rain-dark line in the Convergence basin still ran to me.
Open. Preserved.
Astra looked at me across the hall.
The whole school stood between us.
For once, that helped.
It kept me from going to her. From giving Quill what he wanted.
It kept me alive in the role I still needed to use.
Instructor.
Witness.
Called.
I inclined my head to Astra.
She saw it.
So did Quill.
The Tower had named me.
The Mark I had buried for sixteen years had answered.
And Astra Verita was still standing at the basin, alive, furious, bonded to one man and bound by open light to two more.
