The hour was late enough that any letter arriving should have waited until morning, which meant this one had not arrived honestly.
I took off my cuffs and put them in the wooden box he had given me at fourteen.
Then I opened the letter.
It began as his letters always began.
Caspian.
Noson.No greeting. The name was the greeting. The name was also the instruction.
I read on.
The Council met today regarding theUntethered.
The decision has been made. The protocol you have prepared for since fourteen has been advanced. At the alignment formal of the present cycle, the girl will be presented to you in the Convergence chamber.
The Headmaster has been instructed to convey the honor to her. I have been instructed to convey the duty to you.
The Ashford line has held its place for eleven generations. I will be present to witness you hold yours.
The Council has agreed to patience. Three weeks. No more.
You know what is expected. You know what has been built into you. You know what happens to girls who cannot be brought into bond.
She will consent. You will be steady. The school will see what the Ashford line was made to do.
The body remembers what the blood teaches.
Father.
I read it again.
The words got worse with repetition.
At the third reading, my Mark began to burn.
It started low on my forearm, under my sleeve, beneath the place my cuffs usually held the fabric. A heat familiar in shape, unfamiliar in force.
I left the lamp unlit.
The Mark gave enough light.
That should have disturbed me more than it did.
I rolled up my sleeve.
No one at Zenith had seen my Mark uncovered. The third-years I trained with had not. Quill had not. My father had not, not since the last quarterly basin at Ashford. My sleeves stayed down because that was part of the discipline.
Tonight, discipline had become irrelevant to the thing burning under it.
The Mark was darker than it had been that morning. Only a shade. But enough to make lying to myself difficult.
For thirteen days, it had been changing in increments toosmall for any paid Oracle to catch unless he knew the place to check. I knew because it was mine, and because it had begun answering her before I had decided whether I would.
Astra Verita.
The Untethered, my father called her.
