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“Whither thou come?” Cormia asked as they straightened. “Are you to be of blood service to the Brothers Rhage and Vishous?”

Funny, the formality of her words seemed odd to her now. She’d grown used to more informal discourse. More comfortable with it.

“Indeed, I am to see the Brother Rhage.” There was a pause. “And as well I sought to inquire after you. May I come in?”

“But of course. Please avail yourself of my quarters.”

Layla entered and brought with her an awkward silence.

Ah, so the news had made it to the Sanctuary, Cormia thought. All the Chosen knew she had been passed over as First Mate.

“What is this?” Layla asked, pointing to the latticework in the corner of the room.

“Oh, it’s just a hobby.”

“Hobby?”

“When I have time on my hands, I ...” Well, that was an admission of guilt, wasn’t it. She should have been praying if she had nothing else to do. “Anyway . . .”

Layla didn’t cast condemnation in expression or words on the revelation. And yet her presence alone was enough to make Cormia feel bad.

“So, my sister,” Cormia said with sudden impatience, “I am guessing it is known that another shall be elevated to First Mate?”

Layla went over to the toothpicks and the peas and ran a delicate finger down one of the sections. “Do you recall when you found me hidden by the Reflecting Pool? It was after I had seen John Matthew through his transition.”

Cormia nodded, remembering how the Chosen had been crying softly. “You were quite upset.”

“And you were so kind to me. I sent you away, but I was so grateful, and it is in that spirit that I . . . I have come here to return the gentleness you proffered unto me. The burdens we carry as Chosen are weighty and not always understood by others who are not one among us. I want you to know that, having felt as you do now, I am your sister in the heart at this moment.”

Cormia bowed low. “I am . . . touched.”

She was a lot of other things too. Amazed, for one thing, that they were speaking of this at all. The candor was unusual.

Layla looked back to the construction. “You do not wish to return unto the fold, do you.”

After weighing her options, Cormia decided to trust the Chosen with a truth she could barely admit to herself. “You read me well.”

“There are others of us who have sought another way. Who have come to pass their lives on this side. There is no shame.”

“I’m not so sure of that,” Cormia said dryly. “Shame is like the robes we wear. Always with us, ever clothing us.”

“But if you shed the robe, you are free of the burdens and the choice is yours.”

“Are you sending me a message, Layla?”

“Nay. Verily, if you return to the fold, so shall you be welcomed back with full hearts by your sisters. The Directrix made it plain of sight that there is naught of impropriety in the change of First Mates. The Primale holds you in his highest esteem. She said so.”

Cormia started pacing. “That is the official stance, of course. But honestly . . . you must know what the others think in their quiet moments. There are but two explanations. Either I was found wanting by the Primale or I denied him. Both are unacceptable and equally egregious.”

The silence that followed told her she’d drawn the correct conclusion.

She paused by the window and looked out over the pool. She wasn’t sure she had the strength to leave her sisters, she thought. Moreover, where would she go?

As she thought of the Sanctuary, she told herself that there had been enjoyable days there. Times when she had felt a sense of purpose and been nourished by being part of a greater good. And if she became a sequestered scribe, as she intended to be, she could avoid contact with the others for whole cycles at a time.

Privacy struck her as a grand thing.

“Is it true you care naught for the Primale?” Layla asked.

No. “Yes.” Cormia shook her head. “I mean, I care for him as I should. In the same manner you do. I shall be joyous for whomever shall become the next First Mate.”

Apparently, Layla didn’t have a bullshit meter like Bella’s, because the