Author: Jodi Meadows

Sine raised a hand. “When Sam can’t, I will join Ana. After all, Sam has other work.”

“Orrin and Whit spend half their lives in the library,” said another Councilor, whose name I’d forgotten. “I think it’s safe to assume there will always be someone to supervise Ana’s studies.”

“Does this sound reasonable to everyone?” Meuric checked everyone’s faces, then gave a quick nod. “Very well. We’ll also assign an SED to Ana so she can call someone if one of her appointed companions isn’t there. Ana, I trust we can count on you to do that.”

“Of course.” Probably. I trusted exactly one person not to rat on me if I did something the Council wouldn’t like: myself. As wonderful as Sam had been, with everything he’d done for me, he was still one of them. He’d known them for almost a hundred lifetimes, and me less than a month. I couldn’t expect his loyalties to shift that quickly.

“All right.” Meuric shuffled a stack of papers. “Next on the list is a curfew.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“Twenty-first hour, every night, you’re expected to be at Sam’s. You’ll be subject to random checks. If you’re not there, or late, you’ll have to face the consequences.”

“Which will be?” Now they were interested in making sure I was safe inside at night? Now, after I’d been eighteen years with Li, who didn’t care if I slept in the forest and got eaten by wolves?

“The severity of your punishment will reflect the severity of your crime.”

Being late to bed was a crime? I opened my mouth to ask, but Sam interrupted.

“Surely exceptions will be made for lessons that require Ana to be available at nighttime.” Sam gave Meuric a pointed look. “Such as astronomy or observing nocturnal animals.”

“Neither of those were on your list.” Meuric scowled at his papers. “But yes, if the need arises, exceptions can be made. Make sure to put in a request first. I’d hate for Ana to get in trouble needlessly.”

“Monthly progress reports.” Frase slid a sheet of paper across the table to Sam. “We’ve made a list of skills Ana should learn, in addition to those you’ve already scheduled. Don’t feel the need to plow through everything immediately, but keep in mind we will be requiring an examination of her progress this time next year. We’ve also included a list of potential tutors for these subjects.”

Sam glanced at the list; his arm blocked my view. “She already knows how to read.”

“I figured it out several years ago,” I added.

Frase made a face that might have been a smile, but all I saw was teeth. “Then she won’t have a problem in this area. The Council still requires study and examination.”

“Half the people on this list have been vocal about their”—Sam eyed me—“distaste for the idea of newsouls. It’s unfair to make Ana study under them.”

“We don’t always get to work with our friends,” Antha said. “Perhaps getting to know Ana will change people’s minds about newsouls.”

That seemed unlikely.

“It’s all right, Sam.” I fought to keep my voice steady. “I’ll make it work.”

His jaw muscles jumped, but he nodded. “Very well.”

“I think that should cover everything for now.” Meuric turned to me. “Do you agree to these terms?”

Afraid to ask what would happen if I didn’t, I nodded.

“Then we’re finished.” He stood and offered me his hand to shake. When everyone had a turn—some more gentle than others with my still-healing skin—Sam and I started to leave the Council chamber.

“A word, Sam,” Meuric called.

Sam nodded for me to wait outside. As soon as the door shut behind me, people began speaking in low, angry voices. The heavy wood muffled their words, but every so often Sam’s deep voice came through, and he wasn’t happy.

I leaned against the wall and dreaded finding out what they were talking about.

After fifteen minutes, I couldn’t take listening to them anymore. I pushed off the wall and headed back the way we’d come in. Just as I was about to turn the corner, the door clicked open.

Sam scanned the hallway, and his glare stopped on me. His jaw was set, and his shoulders were tense. The line was more a crevice between his eyes as he strode toward me and loomed over my face. “Try not to wander off.”

I resisted the urge to step back. “I was going to look for the library.”

“You could have waited five minutes.”

“It was more like fifteen, and you’d have known where I went.”

“That’s not the point.” He started to walk around me, but I didn’t move. “Come on.”

“Why are you mad?”

He faced me, looking at me like I was the stupidest person in the world. “Were you in the same meeting I was?”

“Yes.” I crossed my arms.

“No,” he growled, “you weren’t. You completely left us for a while. People said your name five times before you finally joined us again, and even then, you were barely there. What were you thinking? You knew how important it was to make a good impression. Next time you want to doze off, do it somewhere the Council isn’t deciding whether or not you can stay in Heart.”

I staggered back, and my spine hit the wall as I stared up. His face was flushed with anger and disappointment, and I couldn’t think of a good defense, aside from the truth.

“You don’t know what it’s like.” Anything louder than a whisper and my voice would shake. “You have no idea what it’s like to be surrounded by people more than two hundred times your age, all judging and deciding whether or not you’re worthy enough to live in the city they just found lying around one day. None of you can understand. I’m alone, Sam.”

His anger cracked; pity showed through, and I almost stomped off, but he said, “You really will be alone if you’re not careful, Ana.” In spite of the harsh words, his tone was gentle. I wondered which was the lie.

“Threatening to give up on me already? I didn’t ask you to take me in.” My eyes hurt, swollen with memory of this morning, and anger and betrayal now. “I didn’t ask you to do anything for me.”

His throat jumped when he swallowed. “They threatened to take you away. From me.”

The wall at my back blocked further retreat. “They can’t.”

“Li has returned to Heart.”

I couldn’t breathe.

“It’s common knowledge that she doesn’t want you, so the Council won’t do anything yet. But if I can’t control you—Meuric’s words—they will take you away from me. If you’re lucky, you’ll go back with Li and continue the training we had planned. We wouldn’t be allowed to see each other.”

I felt faint. “And if I’m not lucky?”

“You’ll be exiled, not just from Heart, but from Range.” He took a long, shaking breath. “This isn’t going to be easy. I never said it would. All the same, you need to try harder. I don’t want to lose you.”

If the wall hadn’t been holding me up, I might have fallen. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“No one does.” He closed his eyes, and the line deepened. “I don’t want you to feel alone, either. I know there isn’t much I can do. I know I’m one of everyone else—”

“It’s okay.” I wanted to hug him, or apologize for yelling. Something. It wouldn’t help, though, and after realizing he had more in common with Sine than me, I just— I couldn’t right now. I hugged myself.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered again.

And I didn’t want to be lost, or put back with Li, or exiled where sylph and other creatures roamed. “I’ll try harder.”

Chapter 14

Recognition

THE LIBRARY HAD its own wing of the Councilhouse. If not for the conversation with Sam, I’d have been giddy when he heaved open the mahogany doors and we entered the enormous chamber.

The walls were bookcases, and every shelf was full.

There were no separate rooms for different sections, like I’d imagined, but high bookcases gave the illusion of privacy in corners or on balconies over the main floor. Solid mahogany tables dotted the empty spaces, along with delicate lamps with stained-glass shades. Tiny sparrows and squirrels glowed.

Soft rugs covered the aisles; hardwood floors peeked from beneath the edges. I stepped over diamonds and snowflakes, inhaling the scent of leather and ink and dust.

“Maybe,” I said, turning to find Sam watching me explore, “we could just move in here.” The heavy air blanketed my words, even though the chamber was a dozen stories tall. “We could move the bookcases in the middle of the floor for the piano.”

He made a noise that was not quite a laugh and let the door close behind him. “The acoustics are terrible, though. And where would we sleep?”

I swept my hands through the air, toward the giant cushiony chairs and sofas, blankets draped across their arms and backs. Subdued, velvety colors matched the wood all around. Everything was so cozy and sleepy; I couldn’t imagine why people weren’t fighting to stay here forever.

“But the acoustics,” he protested.

“We’d rearrange things to help.” I dropped my head back and relaxed. “Where’s the section on music history? I’m sleeping there.”

He gave me a look I couldn’t decipher.

I cringed and turned away to hide the heat on my face. “I guess we do have that at your house, huh?”

“Let’s have a tour. I’ll show you where everything is so you don’t get lost.” He offered an arm, but I didn’t take it and he let his hand drop as if he’d never tried.

“I might need a map and emergency flare.” I brushed my palms across a smooth leather chair, which hissed under my skin. The polished wood squeaked when I touched the desk Sam was opening.

He pulled out a pad of paper and a pen and handed them to me. “You can fold paper into a glider. Don’t know anyone will see it to rescue you, though. You’ll have to make your own map.”

Of course.

With exaggerated pride, he motioned toward the far side of the library. “Everything on the north wall and nearby bookcases is personal diaries. On all floors. Professional diaries are kept in sections related to their studies.”

I glanced up again. Twelve stories packed with nearly five thousand years of diaries for a million people. My brain hurt just thinking about it.

“Feel free to look at any of them you want. That’s why people bring them here—for others to learn from.” He reached for the nearest bookcase and hooked a finger on the top of a book’s spine, tipping it out of its resting place. “In the beginning of every new life, people usually go back and write an end for their previous lifetime. Usually they mention how they died so others can avoid that fate.” He grinned and winked, but it didn’t sound funny to me. “Genealogies are on this floor—”

“Can we look at something first?” I’d rather have tried on my own, but someone had to tell me if I was right. If anyone was going to see me make an idiot of myself, it might as well be Sam.

He waited, of course saying nothing about the rude way I’d interrupted him. Li would have hit me for that.

I let the dusty peace of the library soothe me before I forced out the words. “Are there photos or videos of you? From before?”

Silence for a stuttering heartbeat, then he nodded. “Some.”

My head swam. “I need to see them.”

He bit his lip—first time I’d seen him do that, and I wondered if he’d picked it up from me—and gazed upward. “Will it change anything? Between us?”