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“Just a moment.” He finishes the page he’s on, tucks a marker inside. “Are you headed somewhere? I can drop you off.”

I duck out the curtain and tell Aklo to head to the library. He stares at me vacantly, only picking up the reins when Quin calls out, “As he said.”

I pop back inside and sidle all the way across until my knee is missing Quin’s by only an inch. “Why are you here?”

The carriage starts rolling. “An extraordinary event just unfolded in the palace. The officials were moved by your heroism, but the court was evenly divided—some supported a par-linea entering official training, while others strongly opposed it. Ultimately, two factors swayed their decision.”

I swallow.

“Frederica’s letter of recommendation. And...” Quin’s lips tilt in a subtle, teasing smile as he lets the pause linger. “You saved Official Sinclais’s favourite nephew, Coralus. I believe you’ve earned his unwavering loyalty.”

I blow out a long breath. “So you came to tell me how lucky I am?”

He leans closer, his gaze locking onto mine, the shadows of the carriage deepening the intensity. “I came to see how you’d react.”

I can’t help it. I flush and smile stupidly; so stupidly, my cheeks hurt. I laugh, and quickly rein it in. “I mean, what is it youdoin the palace?”

“Bit of everything.” His lips flatten in disappointment. “But I’m not nearly as powerful as I’d like.”

I pat his arm; he’s squeezing the life out of the bench under him. Maybe I could bring Quin to Prince Nicostratus’s attention? Could he put in a good word with the king? “What’s your family name?”

Aklo’s voice cuts into the carriage suddenly and we slow to a halt. “The entrance procession for palace aklas ahead. It’ll be slow going.”

I peek past the curtain and out the lattice window. Neat rows of women holding lanterns, dressed in the violet skirts of the palace with their hair in neat, uniform buns. No other adornment but the pretty lights are all unique, to be set along the canal as they enter the palace.

The woman in the front, she looks like...

The first lines turn a corner, out of sight.

I shake my head. What would Megaera be doing entering the palace as an akla?

When my focus returns to Quin, he’s watching me. “Where were we?”

He murmurs, “The decree. Was it a good idea?”

I close my eyes and this time my smile is soft. “Could not have been better.”

Quin is oddly quiet, and I have the strange sensation he’s watching me again.

I snap my eyes open, and he is. “Do you think it’s a bad idea?”

“Not at all. Only...” He stares solidly in my eye. “It’s an upward battle, being par-linea.”

“Par-linea have always had battles. I don’t want to have them, but I must.”

“Have you ever considered other ways to heal?”

“When Icanform spells? Isn’t that being irresponsible?”

“Perhaps good can come from being proficient in crude skills?”

Like saving a life when my meridians are sealed. Or when a patient has allergies. “Put aside the fact it’s looked down on—that there’s no way, officially, to educate oneself in those skills. Crude healing is inferior. There’s less guarantee of success. I don’t know I could live with that feeling of uselessness; that uncertainty; that guilt someone may more easily die under my hands.” I shake my head. “I can only be a vitalian. I must be a vitalian.”

After a prolonged stare, like he’s measuring my resolve, he inclines his head. “This is your life’s passion. Burn brightly.”

I squint suspiciously. He seems both encouraging and cautious. It makes something hitch in my stomach. I suppress it. Iwillbe a vitalian.

“Oh”—I fish in my robes and pull out the vial—“I have something for you.”