One st talk. Then it’ll be over. Lance thought to himself as he lingered outside Lady Tamalsen’s door. If he succeeded in whatever testing Master Gregor required, he would take his pce among the furnace workers, and he might never have to see her again.

  It was a bittersweet thought. As much as he was ready to move on—was ready to leave behind the janitorial services the pace demanded of its younger servants—he did not enjoy the idea of leaving Lady Tamalsen on a bitter note. He wondered how spiteful she would be, how angry when he told her he had made his choice and it was nothing she approved of; but then he had already known he would work for them before the emperor’s reception. Had known he would face a fight, yes, but had made his decision nonetheless.

  As he rapped the knocker against the door, he found he had no regrets. Calm stole over him, stilling his nerves, as she said: “Enter.”

  He pushed the door inward, entered her office, and took the offered seat without protest.

  She set her gaze on him, steepled her fingers together in front of her. Her papers y in neat piles next to her elbow, and for the first time in his memory, the desk was otherwise clear.

  “Did you enjoy yesterday’s events?”

  “I did.”

  A warm smile alighted on her lips. “Good. Then I take it you’ve made your decision.”

  “I have.”

  “For the couriers?”

  A long pause as he formuted his thoughts.

  “I appreciate the time you took to pull whatever strings you did. I really do. That ceremony will be one of my fondest memories, I think. But—“

  She held up her hand to stop him.

  “You’re greasing the shoot, but it will lead to the same pce whether it is freshly oiled or dry and peppered with gss.” She said. “You’re rejecting the offer, aren’t you?”

  He grimaced. “I am.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, I—“

  “When your life would be so much less complicated, why not choose the obvious path? Why not live and thrive among friends and peers who understand you, who are of simir intellect to you?” she demanded. “Why bother choosing a path which can only bring you hardship when you are qualified for something far better, far more practical…even honorable!

  “It does not make sense to me?”

  “I’m sorry, I—“

  “Just go.” She gestured sharply at the door, her regard cold against him. “Go to your pitiful life.”

  “I’m sorry, Lady Tamalsen. I had hoped this parting would be on better terms.”

  Her lips twitched.

  He stood and bowed, then shambled to the door.

  “What is it that so charms you about those people?” she asked as he reached for the handle. “No. Never mind. I do not want to know.”

  He drew the door open, and exited.

  As soon as it was closed behind him, a smile crossed his face, bunched his cheeks into tight balls as he did a little dance in the mostly empty hall. A servant washing the far wall with a thick sponge chuckled. He had been watching him as he left the office.

  “You pissed her off, didn’t you?” he said.

  “I promise I didn’t mean to.”

  The servant snorted, went back to his scrubbing.

  He hopped away, eted now it was finally over.