Priscilla was back in her room before the lamp had burned down another finger, and the Scribes' sheets lay where she had squared them.
She did not sit, her cloak still on. A device, a test, a Lady Odile Brannock who kept the list, and Rosalba, who had gone to her alone and come back with something wrapped in cloth. It was one frightened girl's account, and the colonnade record would show whether Rosalba had met Lady Odile at all. But the Academy wrote down the basis for every request, beside Priscilla's own name.
The only basis she had was Elettra.
"Not on a request."
She had said it hours ago, in a glasshouse, to a girl whose hands had finally gone still. She had known then that the cost would not show up until later. Later had come quickly.
The choice itself was easy. What stayed was wanting the answer anyway.
Priscilla unclasped her cloak and left the colonnade request unwritten.
'Then the slow road.'
The slow road began with a page she had already read.
