“Miss Quinn,” she sighed, placing a hand over her heart as though wounded, “I am not the monster you want me to be. I care very deeply for the… people within these walls. I want everyone here to remain healthy and well.” Her voice softened, but her eyes stayed cold. Calculating. “Though I must admit, I do have some concerns about you.”
“Concerns?”
She waved a hand, rolling her eyes like I was being dramatic. “It has come to my attention that you’ve been spending quite a lot of time with several less… desirable individuals in this facility.”
“You told me to make friends,” I reminded her.
“Yes, well,” Wild sniffed, sitting back. “Miss Quinn, though we aren’t exactly advertising it, you do come from rather precious stock.”
I leaned back in my chair. “Would you rather a particular group of people? Or just not the ones I’ve already met?”
“Miss Quinn.” Wild steepled her fingers. “Your father is a very important man. He asks about you all the time.”
A lie. I didn’t need magic to know that.
She continued anyway. “Should I tell him you’ve been spending your time with the feral air mage? The one who collects knives? The pyro? Or the Hawthorne boy?”
I held her gaze. “They look out for me. They’re strong. I’d think Father would be pleased.”
Her smile sharpened. “He has sent me a list of preferred families to focus on.”
Of course he had.
She slid a folded paper toward me on the desk like it was a peace treaty.
I opened it.
Lyra’s name was near the top.
A laugh bubbled out of me before I could stop it. “Lyra wants nothing to do with me.”
“Well, she’s not the only one.” Wild tapped the paper with one lacquered fingernail. “Oliver Donahue. Rod Jameson. Victor Lightwood. All here. All excellent candidates. They come from good, solid stock.”
I stared at the list, each name feeling like a chain.
“Do you want me to date one of them?” I asked flatly. “Should I just spread my legs now and be bred?”
Her eyebrows jumped. “Goodness, no! Though,” she added with a delicate shrug, “alliances do form naturally between the right kinds of people. And you, Miss Quinn, come from exceptional lineage. Your father would be devastated if you wasted your time with… scraps.”
I set the list down. “Scraps,” I repeated. “By which you mean actual human beings.”
Wild waved a hand lightly. “You’re being dramatic.”
“I’m being realistic.”
She tilted her head. “And the feral air mage? What would you call him?”
The image of Ash guiding me toward the bed last night flashed in my mind—gentle, quiet, controlled in a way I didn’t think he was capable of.
My stomach knotted. “He’s not dangerous to me.”
“Well,” she said, adjusting her papers, “until your father gives explicit permission, I must insist you keep your distance from those boys. They’re not suited to someone of your background.”
“No one here knows my last name or who I am.”
“Be that as it may, should it come out, it is important to make the right… impression.”
I blinked. Slowly. “So you’re banning me from my friends.”
