the front.
She must have noticed because she addressed my worry. “He said it was one of his old ones that he'd forgotten in the bottom of his closet.”
While I doubted that he'd forgotten anything, it didn't have his unique swirls and lines that signaled his rank as the Head Master of Masters. Instead, it looked exactly like the one I wore. Well, without the torn and dirty sections, of course. Since they placed each thread in a specific pattern that belonged to one Master and one Master alone, it could not have been Master Akai's. It left me wondering why he bothered trying to lie, and what he was up to.
“Thank you, Grace.” I shrugged off the cloak I wore, replacing it with the clean, new cloak with the pattern that belonged to me embroidered around the edges. After transferring my things from my pockets, I tossed the ruined one into a trashcan.
“Of course. Should I meet you here on the rise?” She stared down at the floor, her shoulders slumped.
“No. You'll be coming with us,” I announced.
Eyebrows rose, and even the trio started at my words. They glanced between each other until their gazes rested on Grace. She stood in the center of them, stammering something about how she would only hold us back.
“You will be changing forms, so you won't hold us back at all.” I brushed my cloak, ridding myself of wrinkles I didn't see.
“I—I can't. You know I'm not allowed to switch. It's forbidden.” Her mane slapped her cheeks as she shook her head violently. “No, I can't.”
“You can, and you will.” My voice turned hard, the cutting edge making her wince.
“Come on, Zella. You heard what she said. I'll take over her duties and do mine, too.” Kian reached out to accept the ferrule from Grace.
“Absolutely not. I've read the Rules, Grace. I know you didn't overlook the little part in there that stated that while under my purview, any previous restrictions have been lifted so long as they are necessary to the duties of the Office. This is necessary. I'll also be dragging you to Earth with me on this next trip until you feel that you can lead your own Groupings.” I glared at the trio, daring them to speak against me.
She needed to see Earth, to understand what we fought for, and if I were to be honest with myself, she had started to grow on me. Just a bit, but still, I thought she might like time away from her depressing unit and her horrible father.
Besides, there wasn't anything wrong with her, and keeping her from her natural form seemed particularly cruel to me. They'd decided that she was broken. Even more, they'd decided that she was unfixable, unworthy, and that only added to the fire that burned within me. After all, that sort of view had led me to my illegal activities with Con.
Shit. Con.
My eyes snapped back to Grace, waiting for her next refusal. One that never came. Instead, I found her shaking as shiny tears spilled across her cheeks.
The suffocating feel of guilt rose, clustering around my heart, and I softened. I reached out for her while I stepped forward. With my arm over her shoulders, I guided her away from the trio.
To them, I looked back and said, “I have something I need to do really quickly, but it shouldn't take long. If you three want to order food, that will save time.”
Kian nodded, but it was Axton that called out, “We'll grab something from Shalan's.”
I turned around, pulling Grace tighter to me as we exited the lobby doors and into the fresh air. Sniffles and tiny gasps apprised me of how she was doing as we cut across the lawn. When we reached an area where no one would be within earshot, I paused and positioned myself in front of her.
“Are you afraid?” I asked quietly.
Still staring at her feet, she nodded.
“Of changing or of your father?” It was a deeply personal question, but I needed to know.
She twisted away, and the breeze pushed her hair from her face. Her eyes closed as she tilted her chin up and pulled in a deep breath. Even with the residue of her tears on her skin, she still appeared beautiful and perhaps even innocent.
Finally, she breathed out her answer in a single wispy word. “Both.”
I gave her a moment, wanting her to wallow in her confession, hoping that she would find strength in her truth. Admitting something, even