Astra Verita.
The space above my name was blank.
I walked the circle.
The other tags had Marks above the names. Some were familiar—the gold Mark of the small dark-skinned girl from attunement, the Mark I had seen on the boy to my right. Some were new. Most of them.
Cosima’s tag was directly across from mine.
Her pen continued in a small, precise hand as I sat at my place.
The pen was Council-issue. I knew because Linden had been holding the same kind when he’d recruited me, and because the cap had a small Mark I had seen on no other pen.
Cosima was halfway down the page when I reached the table.
She finished the sentence, crossed out two words, replaced them with three better ones, and only then looked up.
She didn’t look surprised.
“Verita.”
“Verraine.” Two could play that game.
“You’re early.”
“It’s ten-fifty.”
“Astor is always late. The others know to come in at five past. That gives you fifteen minutes alone with me.”
“Lucky me.”
Her pen rested against the page.
“Possibly.”
I looked at the folded paper beside her book.
“Is that about me?”
“It’s a Council report.”
“About me?”
“About every first-year. Daily. Each senior is assigned a first-year to observe in verse-study.”
“And you happen to be assigned to me.”
“I am.”
“I just keep getting luckier,” I said again.
This time, when she smiled I saw mischief in it.
“Possibly,” she repeated.
“Show me what you wrote.”
“Absolutely not.”
