Zaeryn stepped out of Sorina's office, the heavy oak door clicking shut behind him. The quiet, sunlit corridor felt strangely calm after the intensity of the meeting. He leaned against the wall for a moment, the adrenaline fading, leaving only the dull throb in his ribs from Leia's spar and the smarting burn on his cheek.
One confrontation was down. Now for the one he was really dreading.
He'd promised Ingrid and Genevieve an explanation, and he intended to give one. He couldn't blame Ingrid for being furious; she deserved to know the truth. This was a hard learning experience: he had to be upfront about what he was and what he could do. Secrets, he was quickly learning, had a way of exploding at the worst possible moments.
He pushed off the wall, mentally rehearsing his confession as he turned the corner toward the main concourse. He didn't have to search. Just as he'd expected, they were waiting for him.
