I should have known better than to stay late after drills with Lorcan Northcott around. He takes the clipboard out of my hands and tells me to stay where I am. The locked corridor makes obeying easy.

That first low order does what no argument ever has, and the sharp challenge in my voice dies fast. I cannot afford to want this rough control, not with the guardianship petition pending. A rival is waiting to ruin us both, and emotional exposure terrifies him as much as it does me. Still, every late session ends with me waiting for his next command. How far will I let him take me before it costs everything?