A bright spark of surprise goes through me. “What? But why?” I look behind me to try to gauge his reaction, but he’s not there.

Norah sighs. “I’m afraid we’ve had some negative reports about his job performance.”

“From who?”

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that they were credible, and we had no choice but to take action.”

“I don’t understand. What did the reports say about him?”

“He’s been accused of unseemly behavior.” Her eyes slide away from mine.

My mouth goes dry. “What kind of behavior?”

“Abandoning his post. Sleeping on the job. Drunkenness.” She presses her lips together and shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Saskia. We owe you better than that.”

A slow pulse of dread goes through me. “No, Rasmus would never…. He’s done a good job.”

She arches her eyebrows. “And yet you didn’t notice his absence until just now.”

I can’t let Rasmus be punished for something he didn’t do. But how can I refute her without exposing myself and my team? If I confess, she won’t let me out of her sight. Latham will change the past. All of Kastelia will be in danger.

“Please,” I say, “you can’t do this. He’s been a good bodyguard.”

“I admire your loyalty, Saskia. Really, I do. But his actions are unacceptable. He put your life at risk. You’ll be assigned someone new, but the replacement won’t arrive for a day or two. So I need you to be particularly cautious until then. No going off by yourself. No leaving Ivory Hall. Understood?”

My fingers twist together in my lap. I can’t let this happen to Rasmus. It’s wrong. Unjust. But I don’t know what else to do.

I nod. “Understood.”

Norah taps the desktop lightly. “Good. Now let’s go. I’ll walk you to the training wing and hand you off to Master Kyra.”

Hand me off. I cringe. She makes me sound like I’m a baton in a footrace. Just an object to be safeguarded instead of a person with feelings.

But the thought brings a swift pang of guilt that hits me hard in the chest. I treated Rasmus as even less than that—like he was just an obstacle to get around instead of someone with a reputation. A reputation I’ve just ruined.

My private training is an exercise in futility. I can’t focus. My thoughts are slow and sticky.

“You’re distracted,” Master Kyra says, not unkindly. “Worried about the next bone game?”

“Yes,” I say. But it’s a lie. The games haven’t even crossed my mind since I left the workshop.