Chapter 23
For several minutes, I stand perfectly still, trying to calm the racing of my heart.
That entire conversation was . . . upsetting.
Does she suspect anything? Surely, if she did, I’d already be in the hands of the Extinguishers, preparing for whatever horrible things they do to people like me.
I’m sure it was just an overall warning. I hope.
The wind kicks up, the drizzle turning to heavier rain as a burst of verdant light flashes across the sky, signaling the start of an Emerald Storm.
The main difference between these and Empire Storms is that the cloud bursts don’t send energy hurtling to the earth.
Only the rain. They also happen much less often.
New Manhattan is surrounded by water, most of it brackish and purified by massive underwater tanks, so while it’s clean, it’s not always the freshest.
Emerald Storms bring with them something else—water that is clear as crystal and tastes almost sweet. Apparently, it’s what drinking water was like before they poisoned so much of it during the Warming Age.
Thus, the water is collected and used by The Shield and Society.
It’s sold in green glass bottles at high-end grocery stores behind doors with little alarm bells.
It’s actually become valuable, and the cisterns are closely guarded, since many people believe Emerald Water brings good luck.
Collecting it for yourself is illegal, though many people do it regardless.
Thankfully, these storms don’t affect me in the same way.
As the rain falls harder, I make my way toward the building and enter to find the hallway empty save the dean, who’s clearly been waiting for me.
“Everything okay?” she asks, wringing her hands. “The general is . . . happy?”
I’m not sure how to answer that, so I settle on something neutral.
“Fine. It was fine,” I say, and her shoulders relax.
“Okay, good. That’s good. I was worried she was angry.”
“Well, she isn’t happy with me,” I say as my phone dings with a notification, and it’s a reflex to pull it from my pocket. I keep hoping Silver and Hazel will reach out. Or maybe my parents. Instead, I find something that surprises me.
It’s a message from the Tempestade. Storm Guard cadet training starts today, and I’m invited. The dean makes a sound of disapproval, and I peer up to find her looking at my screen.
“What is it?” I ask.
“I wanted to talk to you about this as well. You’ve applied for the cadet program,” she says. “I was under the impression you were expected to pursue a general degree.”
My jaw clenches as I stuff the phone back into my pocket. “That’s what my father would prefer, yes.”
“I see,” she says. “Scion Graves donates a lot of money to our institution.” She raises her hands as if to encompass our surroundings.
“And?” I ask, already understanding where she’s going with this.
“And I’d hate to lose your parents’ generosity.”
I huff a sound of derision. “I’m sure.” I shake my head. “But I was accepted by the Storm Guard, and training starts in twenty minutes. Are you planning to stop me?”
She seems to consider that. “Technically, who the Storm Guard selects is outside my purview, and I cannot keep you from entering training.” I’m about to open my mouth when she raises a finger. “But I could . . . tell your father. He would have some sway.”
I should have anticipated this. My father’s fingerprint, his influence, his presence are a part of everything, whether he’s in the room or not. Plus, I already sensed that he had some history with Dean Withers.
“I want to be a Storm Breaker,” I say, my throat knotting with the fear that this will be taken away before it even begins. “It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do.”
She gives me a sympathetic look. “Because of your brother.”
I blink. I mean, partly, I want to honor Raine’s memory, but my desire is so much bigger than that.
“Yes,” I say, because I suspect that’s what she wants to hear. “But I want to protect the city, too. This is my home, and I want to be a part of defending it.”
Her expression softens, but the uncertain flicker in her eyes tells me I haven’t won her over yet.
“When I graduate, Knox and I will marry and inherit our trust funds.” Her eyes widen. “And I could see it in my heart to be extremely generous toward the dean who allowed me this opportunity and didn’t go running to my father.”
I let the words hang between us. I have zero clue if I’d have the power to do this. I’m pretty sure our money will be controlled by my husband, but I only need her to believe it.
“He’ll find out eventually,” she says, and I nod.
“I know, but I’ll deal with that day when it comes. For now, I’m asking for some discretion.”
She considers my proposal, so I drive the knife in deeper. “Once I’m gone, my father will have no more children to send to Amery, and his charitable interests might move elsewhere. I, on the other hand, will owe you a debt that lasts at least as long as your career.”
That does it. She straightens and nods.
“We have an agreement,” she says. “But when your father shows up, I will say you went against my orders and that I had nothing to do with this.”
“Heard. And understood,” I say.
As if my father will care when she’s the one responsible for me, but I’ll keep that to myself.
“Then get going,” she replies. “You don’t want to be late.”