Page 61 of Stormbreaker

“Thank you for taking the time to come out this morning. Dean Withers invited me here to speak with you on behalf of The Shield. Chancellors Marks and Orsen send their sincerest regrets that they couldn’t be in attendance as well,” she says. Her voice is strong. Confident. Nothing wavers in her tone. “I know you’re hurting deeply after this tragedy. I, too, feel this loss personally. I know you all, even if you don’t think I do. I know your parents, and I consider each of you one of my own.”

I notice many people sharing looks. Unlike Dean Withers, General Sol’s words feel genuine. Real. Like they were taken from the heart.

“It is and has always been The Shield’s duty to protect the citizens of New Manhattan from every threat, whether from the outside or inside.” She pauses dramatically, and her meaning is clear. We were all children when the worst of the riots were happening before my father took over as scion, but we remember some of the details well enough. This incident is a reminder never to forget what could happen again.

“Thanks to our four Houses, we keep order in our world,” she continues. “House Fiama, House Aria, House Asale, and House Tera are the pillars on which our safety rests. Without their vigilant efforts, we would be no better than animals, scrounging for food and fighting over scraps.”

Several nods go around the plaza.

“It’s more important than ever to uphold the values of Society set forth by the original members of The Shield all those years ago. Many of you will go on from Amery to become the very same leaders who will aid us in this charge. The very same people will sit atop these towers and ensure our small nation’s ongoing success.”

She raises her arms to encompass our surroundings and the city stretching in every direction. “You are New Manhattan’s future, and I need each one of you to stay safe. To remember where you come from and that no matter which House you represent, in the end, we are all family.”

General Sol smiles at a few quiet grumbles, likely reading everyone’s reaction to that.

“As you make your way in the world, you’ll understand that while your House is important, the greater good is equally so. When you graduate, no matter your path, you will work for the betterment of New Manhattan as a whole. I look forward to getting to know many of you over the next few years. Please stay safe. Stay careful. And most of all, never forget that inside the city, you are free from the maladies that plagued the old world. You have food. You have clothing and shelter, and most of all, you have The Shield to protect you.”

She presses a hand to her chest and utters, “Protect. Preserve. Prosper.”

Everyone repeats her words before a chorus of applause turns into a few cheers and shouts. The dean returns to the mic and says a few more words as I stare about the courtyard. Rook is leaning against a pillar on the far end, his hands stuffed in his front pockets and one ankle crossed over the other. I haven’t seen him since he rescued me from the train that night. I still owe him a thank-you, but it seems like he’s forgotten about the incident. And me.

It’s then that I notice how many people are peering over their shoulders, casting surreptitious glances around the plaza. For once, they aren’t directed at Rook, but rather at me, Trinity, and Edward. It seems we’ve finally been noticed. Trinity realizes it, too, because her brow furrows with concern, and she takes a step back.

“We should go,” Edward says, taking Trinity’s hand.

The dean is still speaking as he tugs Trinity away, but Dean Withers waves and calls to the back of the crowd, stilling them both.

“Excuse me,” she says, tapping the mic. “You haven’t been dismissed.”

That’s when every pair of eyes in the courtyard turns to find us. Dean Withers holds a hand over her brow to see more clearly, and it takes only a moment before a soft “ah” can be heard through the microphone.

At the general’s quizzical look, the dean covers the mic and leans to whisper something in her ear. The two women confer for several seconds before the general returns her focus to the crowd, her gaze sliding over everyone before it finds me.

Then she speaks into the microphone again.

“Poet Graves,” she says as my cheeks heat and my stomach flips, every eye in the courtyard homing in on me. “I’d like to speak with you in private.”

22

Within minutes, I find myself alone in the courtyard with an increasingly heavy drizzle of rain matting my hair. Once the general made her wishes clear, everyone quickly had somewhere else to be. I can’t even be mad that Trinity and Edward ditched me immediately.

Even the dean left me on my own, and isn’t that some kind of breach of student-school protocol?

General Sol hops down from the stage, oblivious to the rain, while her Circle Guard waits a few paces back. She’s even more intimidating up close. She has several inches on me, and I have to stare up to meet her gaze. In her early sixties, she has fine lines hugging her eyes and mouth.

I don’t think she means to, but the way she assesses me makes me feel like a bug.

“I hear there was some trouble with your first initiation test,” she says.

“Yes, General Sol,” I say.

“I’ve known your father a long time, and I’ve heard a lot about you. What happened?”

“Things . . .” I’m not sure how to explain it.

Why is it so hard to tell her that I couldn’t kill a human being for no reason?

“I had a momentary lapse of judgment,” I finally say.