Master Bose nods in agreement. “Not that you’d want to go to Avant anyway… bunch of stuck-up monarchists.” He looks over at Mbali. “Present company excepted, of course, Journey Keftiu. I have great respect for the Matriarchy of the Isles.”

Tracing her finger along her snake necklace, Mbali winks and says to me, “If you’re truly unhappy with your placement options, you can always join the Pirates.”

“Who are the Pirates?” I ask dubiously.

“They’re a group of Makers who have rejected both Genesis and Avant. They live at sea and believe that no one should be limited by a guild or council.”

“Never heard of ’em,” Georgie says. “But they sound like my kinda people. I’ve been called a pirate once or twice.”

Once we’re finished our cleaning duties, Mbali and I head together to the Sire lab. As I work on my woeful attempt at creating a golem that can move its limbs and support itself well enough to walk (but does not yet have any useful purpose), I’m still obsessing over Quorum.

I dubiously look over at Rafe. Since Hypatia, Simon, and Mbali have all decided to like me, he’s mostly stopped being overtly hateful, though I can tell it costs him something. But I actually learn a lot from observing him while he barks orders at me and gives me withering glances. As long as I don’t talk much or, heaven forbid, bump into him, he’s generally tolerable.

And Rafe is in my top choice of guild, the one most likely to have information about Sire ability sharing and the one best suited for me to help Grandfather. I need advice from wherever I can get it, so I decide to chance it.

“Why did you choose the Bioscience guild?” I ask him.

He looks up at me and blinks.

For a moment I lose my train of thought as an image vividly overlays my vision.

Rafe lying in a field of red flowers.

I thought I’d finally managed to be free of that dream weeks ago, but the picture in my mind is as clear and detailed as a photograph.

I blink away the memory and refocus on the real Rafe, who is staring at me as if he can’t believe that I’ve attempted small talk. “It’s just that I’m trying to figure out what guild is best for me, assuming I get any invitations,” I say.

“You’re a Sire. You’ll get invitations,” he says dismissively, focusing back on whatever is under his microscope. I assume he means to ignore my question entirely, but after a moment he says, “At Avant, I was part of the Blood Science guild. I had to relinquish that when I came here.” He momentarily rubs his bare middle finger, where I assume he used to wear his old guildstone. “I chose to reguild into Bioscience as it’s the most similar.”