That was how a Council thought.
That was how a Council made mistakes, too.
The west door closed behind us.
The sound was smaller than I expected.
Inconsiderate, really.
A life should make more noise when it changes shape.
The corridor beyond was narrow and white-lit, with no windows and no lilies.
Two stewards walked ahead. Two behind. One at either side.
Astra looked at the walls.
“Delphine came this way.”
No one answered.
That was answer enough.
Her Mark brightened at her wrist.
All three of us felt it.
Ashford drew in a breath.
Hale’s hand flexed once.
My shoulder gave a bright, vicious pulse.
Astra stopped walking.
So did we.
So did the stewards, though they disliked that we had forced them to, judging by their expressions.
She turned slowly to Quill, who had followed at the rear with Linden beside him.
“Where did this corridor take her?”
Quill’s expression did not change.
“The west antechamber.”
“And after that?”
Linden looked at Quill.
Tiny. Fast.
But I saw it.
We all did.
Quill said, “Delphine Moreau’s case is not scheduled for review tonight.”
