Page 126 of Carousel

“Cosmer, you’ll be written up for tardiness, I’m afraid.”

Cosmer stiffens, ready to argue.

I cut in before he can. “It was my fault, Dezeeves. I needed the lavatory. Urgently.” I add, acting bashful, “Because I’m a woman.”

Dezeeves peers down at me. “We must keep to tight timings here. I will overlook this transgression just this once.”

He steps aside.

I get my first proper look at the room. Glass curves all around the perimeter, looking out onto the harsh blue sky. At the far end of the room is an enormous control table of shiny metal and blinking lights. It’s more advanced than anything I’ve seen on the smaller ships. Five first officers are seated at it. The remaining ten, including Meg and Ephraine, are gathered around a table in the middle of the room.

A different setup, then.

But what does that mean?

“Please,” Dezeeves says, motioning to the empty seat at the table’s head.

Neither of us move.

“There are two of us,” Cosmer states. “We need another chair.”

Dezeeves examines him. “I would have thought you might have duties to be attending to.”

“The only duty I have right now is here. If that’s all right.”

Ephraine chimes in. “A keeper does not normally remain.”

From beside Dezeeves, Meg says, her voice like cool liquid, “He isn’t her keeper. She was assigned to Riss.”

Cosmer says, simply, “We switched. There’s nothing in The Accords against it.”

“Yes,” Dezeeves says. “I had started to suspect.” He throws a look around the table. “If no one else has any objection to Cosmer’s presence?”

No one does, which settles the matter.

A chair is brought out – not beside me, but opposite, at the far end of the table.

I can still see him, at least. That will have to be enough.

“Now, Ara,” Dezeeves says, in a pleasant tone. He’s taken the seat to my right. “I know you were somewhat concerned when you saw Drake with us yesterday. But corrective instruction is nothing to worry about. Are you comfortable?”

“Yes.”

“Would you prefer the lights on, or off?”

“On,” I reply, trying not to think about how that could possibly matter.

“You may have noticed some differences in how we will be conducting your session. I’ve found that different minds respond to different approaches.”

I let my voice harden like ice as I say, “And Drake’s mind needed torture?”

Dezeeves doesn’t flinch. “We opted, there, for a firmer approach. But we won’t need to do that with you, will we? The Queen and your mother, after all, praised your intellect. They claimed you had received the education any noble would, in negotiation, foreign diplomacy, strategic reasoning⁠—”

“That’s not true,” I say.

My head feels light. Loud. The buzzing is beating at my skull, trying to get in.

“Are you quite sure?” he asks, innocently enough. “Everything The Assembly had been told about your language skills was correct.”