Page 56

Corian's expression had become hard enough that I recognized the particular kind of anger I'd seen from him before.

Not at me.

I knew that now.

"I won't do it," I said. "That's the limit. There are other things I'll refuse depending on the situation, but I will not create life, and I won't alter something just because it would be useful or because someone wants to know whether I can."

His gaze remained on mine.

"Life isn't training material. It isn't something you pull apart and rebuild because you have the ability to do it. If something is injured, I'll fix it. If something needs to be stopped and Biomancy is the safest way, I'll decide what I'm willing to do. But I won't change a living thing into something it was never meant to be just because I can."

Corian nodded.

"Okay."

I waited.

"And I won't order you to do anything you won't do."

I stared at him. He pushed away from the table and reached for the deployment papers lying near his elbow. "If another situation comes up where you aren't willing to use Biomancy, tell me. If there's time, explain why. If there isn't, tell me no and I'll work around it."

"That simple?"

"Yes."

I didn't understand why that irritated me.

It shouldn't have felt strange.

When I'd first refused the Masters, they'd explained why I was being unreasonable. Then why I was wasting an ability other people would have killed to possess. Then why responsibility meant using every tool available to protect Aracardis.

The Council had been worse.

Months of discussions. Assessments. Suggestions that perhaps I didn't understand the importance of the work because I was too young. Suggestions that fear was influencing my judgment. Suggestions that refusing an ability simply because I disliked how it felt was selfish.

"You don't think I'm wasting it?"

His head lifted from the papers. "Your ability?"

"Yes."

"No."

"You didn't even think about it."

"I did."

"For about five seconds."

"That was enough."

I stared at him.

Corian sighed and set the papers down again. "Jade, you told me you believe creating or fundamentally altering life that way is wrong. You didn't say you were frightened of trying, or that you didn't know whether you could. You gave me an ethical boundary."

"And you just accept it."

"Yes."