On the other side of this funeral, however, my new life will officially begin.

I just have to get through the funeral to get to the Rite. Get through the Rite to claim my title. Claim my title to join the search for Nick. And when I leave for the search, the Council will leave Carolina too—putting needed distance between the Mageguard and the Rootcrafter network on campus. I can have all of that if I just get through today.

“Page Matthews?”

It’s Theresa Hamilton, one of the Regent emissaries who’d arrived to take our statements the day after Nick was taken. She waves me over from the ceremony site’s perimeter. She has to call me “Page” because to most everyone here, that’s what I am.

I do not like Theresa. At all.

But before I join her I force my features into an expression that hopefully won’t be read as hostile. The woman wears a high bun and narrow frameless glasses, and, even though I’ve only met her a couple of times, I’m pretty sure her patronizing chin tilt is a permanent fixture.

I come to a stop beside her. “Nice to see you again, Theresa.”

“Please call me Emissary Theresa here, if you don’t mind.” Theresa does a double take at my appearance. “Oh.” Her eyes travel my pant legs and hips up to my broad shoulders and the black robe clasped at my neck. By the time she reaches my hair, her plastic smile has melted.

“Something wrong?” I ask through clenched teeth.

She answers while staring at my hair. A set of Alice Chen–exact braided cornrows to keep my hair out of my face, flowing into loose curls—soft, shiny, and full—and styled with gel to fall over my shoulders.

“It is too late to change first appearances, but perhaps in the future, for decorum’s sake, you might consider the care you take with your…” She gestures around her head to indicate my hair. “Perhaps smooth things down for a cleaner look?”

Heat flushes up and around my collar.

“Clean?” I bite out.

“Well,” she says. “Yes.”

Because she was curious, Alice learned to braid hair from my mother. My mother had laughed and sat her down for a lesson when we were thirteen. I could scream obscenities at this woman without messing up a strand. Instead I say, “Just because my hair takes up space doesn’t mean it’s dirty, Theresa.”

Her eyes widen, and she drops her gaze back to her clipboard. “The—the final guests have entered the ceremony site, so the Mageguard are ready for you now.” Theresa taps her seating chart and then looks into the crowd. “Pages are seated in the second section, and you are to sit in the middle. If you don’t mind?”

I do mind. After her comments about my hair, I’m not only impatient. I’m angry.

I huff, eyes closing.