“While I appreciate that, I would like it noted that I object to this. It will only lead to increased resistance and more work for those required to keep them in line.” Master Akai’s terse objection only intrigued me more.
What has the King done? It must be bad if Master Akai is speaking against it. He wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of inclusion or even noticing others unless it benefited him.
“So noted.” The King glanced up from whatever he studied, the first time since we’d come through the door. “Honestly, Akai, I care nothing for what you think. It is the law, and I expect you to obey it. Any Soulless that you have will be required to do their part. That means paying more taxes and adding more bodies for service. If you have too many pulled from your Office, then we’ll transfer some from the other Offices to even it out.”
The King dropped his head, returning to his book, which made for an apparent dismissal. Master Akai said no more. Instead, he spun and floated towards the door. The muscles around his temple twitched, and my gaze shot to the King.
Pulled? Where are they going?
“Master Healani,” the King barked. “Report.”
I hurried to the desk, eager to find out exactly what was happening. After I rattled off my figures and informed him of the Angels' upcoming inclusion, he finally looked up.
Leaning back in his chair, he shook his head. “Still abysmal numbers. Perhaps we should begin to think about moving you to another position. Asking you to lead an Office for your first post as Master might have been too ambitious.”
“My contract states that I have control of the Office until Helia, Your Majesty,” I interjected.
My stomach bubbled with burning pain, and my monster scored the edges around the well. It wanted out.
“I supersede any contract,” he spat.
No, you don’t.
He shifted his eyes, staring at the door for a long while. I had the urge to fidget, to move, to fuse with the monster and rip his throat out, but I held it at bay. Barely.
Finally, he nodded, and his gaze swung back to me. “Fine. I don’t want to deal with the hassle, anyway. I don’t have time for it. Just get your quota up because I will not hear excuses when your date is up. Failure is not an option.”
He waved his hand and leaned forward, returning to the book. I peered down at it, barely concealing my shock when I saw it was a text from Oscal, written about what I thought were war theories judging by the title.
I turned, piecing the conversation together with the book. I didn’t need to think long, though, because before I could get a few feet from the desk, he stopped me.
“Master Healani? Do you have any Soulless in your Office? Cleaners perhaps?” he asked.
I twisted around again, facing him. “I might,” I hedged.
Of course, we didn’t but admitting that wouldn’t bring me any clear answers.
He nodded before ordering, “Check your list. All Soulless are now required to have an adjustment of credits, and those under fifty are compelled to report to the Service Office. If it impedes your operations too much, fill out the form, and we’ll readjust those still working.” He paused, then muttered, “I’m sure they have a form. There’s one for everything else.”
He flapped his hand, the movement so hard that I could hear his old bones clicking. Yet, I didn’t move. Pressing them all into service? Is he insane?
“Master Ralkin!” the King yelled.
That pushed me into motion. I jerked and rushed to the door, eager to get away. As soon as I exited, I spotted Trace leaning against the wall. Before he could push himself off it, I grabbed his arm and tugged him down the hall.
I saw several Reapers I knew—some I hated, some I would have usually stopped to talk to. All of them were passed by. I didn’t even sneer at Hedda or wonder why she was there, and that said something about my state of mind. Nassar called out a greeting, and I yelled back some excuse about being very late. He nodded with furrowed brows, telling me he would catch me next time. An old school mate, Pes, waved, and I threw up a hand.
“What’s the rush?” Trace whispered, leaning towards me.
“I’m not rushing,” I answered, speeding up even more.
Trace no longer walked. He couldn’t if he wanted his long legs to keep up with me. Instead, he