“She was… Chorus,” Bloche says with a sigh.

“What did she say?”

“That teaching the girl is the will of the Conductor.”

Michael glances at me, then back to the headmaster. “Will that satisfy the rest of the Council?”

“It will have to.”

I wonder if I’m “the girl.” And who are Chorus and the Conductor? But my attention strays when I notice a large oil painting above the headmaster’s desk. It’s of a boat caught in a storm, and it looks an awful lot like an original Rembrandt. The perfection in the contrast of the shadow and light matches his signature style. It’s breathtaking. But Rembrandt only ever painted one seascape, which was famously and tragically stolen. A bubble of unease floats in the back of my throat.

The headmaster takes a seat and nods approvingly when he sees me admiring the seascape. I do my best to tamp down the questions I have about it. Instead, I swallow and smile at the headmaster.

“Ms. Castle, you have been invited to join this illustrious institution to commit yourself to our mission of advancing society through all manner of art, philosophy, and science.”

“Advance all of society?” I ask. “Or just your hidden society?”

He purses his lips, then says, “I see why you like this one, Master Loew.” After a moment of contemplation, he says. “Ms. Castle, coming here means leaving your past behind. Most recruits cut all ties with anyone in the provincial world. The Council was willing to allow you here due to the danger posed against Sires such as yourself”—he fixes his gaze on me, the glass of the monocle having gone completely black—“but, eventually, you will have to choose between their world and ours. Do you understand?”

I notice that he hasn’t really answered my question. Michael is standing near a grandfather clock—that has pictures of planets and constellations but no numbers—his expression pinched.

The response on the tip of my tongue is that this has all been very fast and I can’t commit to anything yet. But I’m not here to be honest. I’m here to make these people trust me. So instead, I say, “Absolutely, sir. I’m excited to learn.”

“Thank you, Ms. Castle. You will be given until the next anniversary of the Exodus. At that time, you will have to decide whether you would like to make your home here and forgo your old life, or whether you want to leave here, never to return.”

I nod and swallow, having no sense of how much time that actually gives me. And what will they do if––when—I tell them I want to leave? Would they really just let me go after learning all their secrets? I’m not so sure.

The headmaster continues, “Our community runs on a guild system. You will need to put together a gallerie to gain acceptance to a guild at Quorum.”