Chapter 6: Breakfast at the Gate

"Say what you mean by that," I said.

Niles looked at me, then at Cormick, and the fear went out of his face as fast as it had come.

"I mean you're not a dancer, Seren. You're a scholar. You gave up dance because you couldn't keep up."

"You gave it up for me."

"You agreed."

"I was twenty and you told me I was slow."

"You are slow," he said, and the old patience came back into his voice, thin and polished. "I'm saying it because I care what happens to you."

Cormick spoke for the first time.

"Ormond," he said. "It's late and this is my lawn."

Niles drew himself up.

"The Ormond family has a long friendship with Greywater, Heir. I'd think carefully about whose student you're borrowing."

"She's not borrowed. She signed."

The two guards at the Hall corner took one step forward.

Niles heard it. He looked at me one last time, and I held his eyes and did not look away.

He turned and walked off the lawn, and the lantern light followed him out.

My shoulders came down, though my knees were still unsteady.

"Go home," Cormick said gently. "Sleep. Rehearsal tomorrow at seven."

"I'll be there."

"I know." He stopped, then added, "You were good tonight."

I walked back to the east dorm with his coat still on.

I had not realized I was still wearing it until Pip pointed at it and screamed into her pillow.

Niles was at the east gate before the morning bell.

He had a paper bag from the bakery on the north path, the one that sells the cinnamon knots I used to cry about.

He held it out with both hands.

"I remembered," he said. "I'm sorry about last night. I was upset. I shouldn't have said that."

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