“Iamos is on the brink of destruction, Nadin,” Antos interrupted me. “If our people are to survive, we must be united. That means obeying the edicts. No one is exempt from them, not even the geroi. You know this.”

I looked down again. “Yes, Geros. I understand. I just… since it was my annual, I thought…”

“The anniversary of your birth does not make you above the law,” he interrupted. “Especially not this one. You are enilin now. You should be able to make intelligent decisions, Nadin. Don’t you understand how dangerous leaving the dome is, now? What if the seal had been damaged? The entire population of Hope Renewed could have been decimated.” His voice was low. It made the anger in his words feel even stronger.

The geroi were never angry, it seemed, except with me.

“The lives of the people are in our hands,” said Antos. “We are the guardians of this citidome. If even one life had been lost, the damage would be irreparable.”

“But isn’t it for the best, then, that I was there?” I protested. “That boy would have died if I hadn’t alerted you to him.”

Antos’ mouth was drawn in a tight line. “We know nothing about him. He is unknown to the System. Do you understand what that means? He is, in all likelihood, an anarchist. A terrorist. And you have given him access to the citidome.”

My face grew hot. “Geros, I didn’t—”

“Nadin, in light of this evening’s events,” Melusin broke in, “the geroi have decided to reject your appeal for re-evaluation.”

The breath left me. For a brief, horrible moment, I felt like I was outside the dome again, gasping in the cold, airless wind. “What? But… why?”

Antos scoffed. “Does that question really need an answer?”

I said nothing. My eyes stung, but I resolutely kept my features blank.

Melusin’s face softened slightly. “Nadin, I understand how you must feel.” She put a hand on my shoulder, gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry you had to come of age at a time like this. Things are much stricter for you and Ceilos than they were for other generations of patroi. In another time, there might have been more leniency. Room to let you learn, to make mistakes.” She let go of me, leaving a cold void in the place her fingers had touched. “But Antos is right. We cannot afford that now. This simply is the way things are. There can be no oversights. You are our daughter, Nadin, but you know that does not give you privilege over the others in our care. We have to do what’s best for everybody. Remember, unity through fidelity. It is the only way.”

I tugged on my earlobe and absently quoted the creed of the Progression: “‘All lives are one.’ I am sorry, Gerouin.”