Page 25

I almost laughed, because that phrase had built half the bad decisions of my childhood. Adults said it when trouble had already taken a number and was waiting in the hall.

“I prefer knowing the interest rate before I borrow,” I said.

Then the woman spoke for the first time.

“Does she always answer like that?” Her voice was low, dry, and uninterested in pleasing anyone in the room, including Pelham.

Pelham looked briefly pained. “Miss Lane has an agile mind.”

“She has a defensive one.”

I looked at her. “Generally people give me reasons.”

Her eyes came to mine, cold and direct, not cruel, which made it worse. Cruel would have meant she cared enough to enjoy it. This was not that. This was disinterest.

Pelham seemed unsettled by the exchange, and cut it off. “Your first session is tomorrow. The appointment has already been added to your schedule. Attendance is mandatory.”

“Everything here is mandatory and unexplained.”

“Not everything.”

“Fine. Everything interesting.”

He stood, meeting over, and the woman had already turned back to the sky, as if she’d never been part of it.

I was at the door when Pelham said, “Miss Lane.” I looked back. “Make use of this. A Vere’s time is not ordinarily spent on supplemental instruction.”

Pippa caught me at the bottom of the tower. She was pretending to look at a noticeboard and doing it badly, the prefect’s pin bright on her collar, the kind of girl who knew the placements before the rest of us because knowing things first was the part of the job she was proudest of. When she saw me she rushed toward me.

“Well?”

“Subtle.”

“Was it Pelham?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“Supplemental instruction.”

She brightened. “That’s good.”

“With Adept Cormac Vere.”

Pippa stopped. Not slowed, stopped.

A boy passing behind her nearly walked into her shoulder. He looked annoyed, then somehow heard the name in the air between us, and changed his mind about being annoyed. He kept walking, faster than before, and glanced over his shoulder at me as though I was contagious.

“They gave you a Vere?” Pippa said.

I nodded.

“For remediation?”

“That does seem to be the humiliating word of the hour.”

“No, Billie, you don’t—” She looked around, lowered her voice, then gave up on lowering it because shock had already done the work for her. “The Veres are the oldest line in the country. Older than half the Founding Nine. They don’t tutor. They evaluate heirs. They advise houses. They remove⁠—”