Astra
Kieran caught his foot on the threshold of the review chamber.
Hale’s hand came up behind him, but Kieran found his balance before it reached him.
Gray showed beneath the brown of his skin, and his right hand stayed close to his body as he walked.
Hale let his hand fall but remained half a step behind.
Caspian took the other side without touching, ready if Kieran faltered again.
The long table stood beneath the same flat wall lights. Three readers sat behind it with their papers arranged in front of them. The administrator occupied the chair at the center. Marrow stood behind her left shoulder.
Water ran through a shallow channel at the base of the far wall. It made none of the noise that had protected our conversation two days earlier. Every word spoken here belonged to the record.
They seated Kieran between Hale and me. Caspian took the chair on my other side.
The administrator reached for the first page.
“Why do you keep measuring his decline instead of treating it?” I asked.
Her hand stopped.
One of the readers looked toward Marrow. A second lowered her pen to the paper.
The administrator kept her attention on me. “The healer is treating his pain and respiratory symptoms.”
“After they happen. His Mark is getting worse every day.”
“An intervention made without understanding the cause could accelerate the damage.”
I thought of silver leads fixed along Delphine’s arm. “You already proved that with Delphine.”
The reader’s pen stopped before it touched the page.
Marrow shifted behind the administrator. She did not look back at him.
“Moreau’s case is under separate review,” she said.
“Her Mark broke here. It isn’t separate from anything.”
Caspian’s sleeve brushed mine beneath the table. He did not pull me back.
The administrator closed the folder she had been about to open. “What treatment are you asking me to authorize?”
“One that begins with telling Kieran what you think is happening to him.”
Her attention shifted to Kieran.
He sat with his left hand braced against the edge of the chair. The effort of crossing the Tower had left sweat at his temples.
“Describe the sensation in your shoulder today,” she said.
“It burns.” His voice was quieter than it had been in the corridor. “Not only when I move now. My whole right forearm went numb this morning. It lasted almost a minute.”
His right hand twitched against his coat. He closed the fingers slowly, watching to make sure they obeyed.
Hale’s hand tightened on the back of Kieran’s chair.
“Has the pattern changed?” the administrator asked. “Not how much it hurts or how far the numbness travels. Does it feel different?”
Kieran looked at her more carefully. “That’s a very specific question.”
“Answer it.”
He drew a shallow breath. “It used to feel like the line was failing. Now it pulls toward Astra. Hard enough to move beneath my skin.”
No pen moved.
The administrator’s fingers pressed into the closed folder.
The green-gold line at my wrist warmed beneath my sleeve.
The administrator saw my hand close over it.
“Show me,” she said.
I pushed my sleeve back. The silver line from Caspian and the rain-dark line from Hale had not changed. Only the green-gold had brightened, stopping at the same unfinished edge against my skin.
She stood so quickly that the chair legs scraped against the stone.
Marrow straightened. “Administrator?”
She looked from Kieran’s shoulder to my wrist. Her face had gone pale.
“Increase his monitoring,” she said.
Marrow did not move. “It is already twice daily.”
“Hourly. Beginning now.”
“That requires readers to be reassigned from the lower infirmary.”
“Then reassign them.” She gathered the loose pages in front of her, but one slipped sideways beneath her hand. “Record every change in temperature, color, sensation, and range. However small.”
“You recognize this,” I said.
She looked at me.
“You knew which change to ask about.”
The room remained silent.
“What do you think is happening?” Caspian asked.
The administrator squared the page that had slipped. “The review is concluded.”
“Kieran deserves to know what frightened you,” I said.
Her eyes moved once more to the green-gold at my wrist. “I don’t know enough yet.”
She left through the side door. The readers followed with their papers held close, none of them looking at Kieran.
Marrow stayed.
Kieran watched the closed door. “She looked at me like she’d seen this before.”
“Or read it,” Caspian said.
“What frightened her?” I asked Marrow.
His attention remained on the door she had used. “Whether she knows or only suspects, she wasn’t willing to say it in front of three readers.”
“Then ask her when no one is writing.”
“Include me this time,” Kieran said. “I’m tired of being the last person told what my death might look like.”
Marrow looked at Kieran. “I intend to.”
“He may not have time for you to be careful,” Hale said.
“I know.” Marrow signaled to the stewards outside.
Kieran pushed himself upright before Hale could reach him. His knees held until the first step.
Hale caught him around the ribs before he struck the wall. Caspian moved in at once, taking Kieran’s left side while Hale steadied his right without pressing the shoulder.
“I had it,” Kieran said.
“You didn’t,” Hale replied.
Kieran did not argue again.
I walked beside them with the green-gold line still warm at my wrist. The administrator had recognized the change. Whatever she expected to happen next, she meant to have it recorded.
A reader was waiting outside his room when we reached it, a ledger tucked beneath her arm.
She followed Kieran inside and opened to a clean page.