Judah calls to me from the door.

“Young Miss, our lunch appointment draws near.  We should withdraw to your quarters and prepare for it, as well as for your afternoon instruction.”

My shoulder twitches.  To dwell on irksome things, those are another two for me to contend.  Fencing class is a frustrating and exhausting tradition that all of my brothers, even Angelo, participated and excelled in.  Despite Mom’s protestations, Daddy made me continue what his father impressed upon him and his sister.  “No child of mine will be caught defenseless on the streets by some cutpurse,” I believe he had insisted.  Aside from my making a few new close acquaintances, the last four months of twice-weekly foil-swinging have been largely unenjoyable.

As for the other nuisance, Judah and I have come to a compromise.  When Daddy or any of his associates are present, Judah may refer to me as “Young Miss,” as he insists he must.  If we’re alone, with my friends, or with Dimitri and Ikoiyo, he must address me by my name.  I refuse to respond even to “Miss Klóe” under these circumstances.  I hate the pretension, especially after I pried from him that we are roughly the same age.  I hope to ease him into more casual exchanges, but that could only be fixed with time.  Thankfully, Judah cares much less how I refer to him.  At least, he says so.

 “Okay, Judah.”  I curtsy for Asherti Onlarion.  “Thank you again for the wonderful lesson, ashertolek <my skill-guardian>.”

Asherti Onlarion holds up a hand.  “Do you know the meaning of my dismissal?”

I wring my hands and stand.

“Sur’irwenim ilsolyasta elt prit?  ‘May this experience serve you well,’ does it not?”

“Yes, it does.  Now that you have these experiences, how do you want them to serve you?  What goals do you wish to achieve with them?”

“Oh, sure!  Well, I…”  

I blink twice.  For an alarming amount of silent seconds, no answer comes to my mouth or my mind.  

“I would like… to… help people?”  I look to the buckles of Asherti Onlarion’s boots, then to the closed piano.  “I would listen to their stories, and sing their songs back to them so that they can… hear…”

That miserable excuse feels false in my mouth, not to mention my ears.  I slouch and meet Asherti Onlarion’s withering gaze.

“Honestly, ma’am, I just love the learning of it all.  I love unlocking each new little insight and mystery regarding the cosmic design.  It feels like I’m opening up a whole new part of myself each time.  It’s just – the singing, the playing, the very little weaving I did today are all worth the time and experiences that brought me to this point.  I…”

My next words stop in my throat.  They could endanger any chance I might have for further tutelage under Asherti Onlarion.  Be that as it may, I simply cannot lie to her again.

“I have no goals for my magic.  I simply want to learn it, to improve my singing with it.  I want to pursue magic for its own sake.  For my own sake.”

Asherti Onlarion stares at me, as usual, awaiting whether or not I have anything left to add.  She raises her eyebrows, neutralizes he face, and looks away.

“I appreciate your candor, Miss Klóe, but I encourage you to consider your goals more thoroughly before our next session.  You have already touched and manipulated the veil.  To know your own desires beyond the moment is to know your limits, and how to surpass them.  Sur’irwenim ilsolyasta elt prit <May this experience serve you well>.  You are dismissed.”  Asherti Onlarion goes to the piano and rummages through her satchel.

I stare into the empty space near her.  I don’t move.  I can’t; I’m too stunned by my own vapidity.  Just trying to imagine what I would want to do with songcasting beyond performing is staggering.  Do all of my years of work and practice mean nothing of consequence or value?

My gut churns at the thought.

“Young Miss, we must hurry.  Are you ill?”

“No.  Ye—Well, it’s…” 

I clench my fists and my eyelids.  I take a shallow breath in through my nose and push it out of my mouth.  I force a smile to my face and turn around.  

He watches me, still yet always pulsing, with a tilted head and his arms straight down by his sides.

I nod.  “You’re right, Judah.  We should get going.  Maisey wants us to make a good impression on Adelaide, and there’s no reason to be anything but punctual when an appointment with a new acquaintance is on the books, especially when a meal is involved.  Wouldn’t you agree?”

Judah looks down to my feet, then back at my face.  

“I would agree.”

I nod, walk to the door, and try not to look over my shoulder at my tutor or my bodyguard.  If I can act natural between now and the moment I get behind my changing screen, maybe I can prevent at least Judah from realizing how much of an enormous fraud I’ve exposed myself to be.