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stairs. The wooden banisters are decorated with carvings of curling patterns. I run my fingers over the grooves as we climb.
    “So we’re meeting with Councilor Merrydale, right?” I ask.
    “Actually, Head Councilor Bouchard is here. I got the message this morning.”
    “ Head Councilor?” My anxiety kicks up a level. “Like, the bigwig in charge of all the Councilors?”
    “That’s the one. He’s based at the French Guild, but he visits the other Guilds periodically to check on things. I guess it’s our turn today.”
    I clench one fist and press it against my lips. Why, why, why did he pick today? I’m nervous enough as it is without having to meet some scary Head Councilor.
    “Hey, it’s fine. Don’t panic.” Ryn reaches for my free hand and squeezes it. “Trust me, there’s nothing intimidating about this guy. He’ll introduce you to your mentor and explain a few things. That’s it.”
    I lower my fist to my side and release it, breathing out slowly. “Okay. You’re right. I’m sure I have nothing to be nervous about.”
    “Of course I’m right,” Ryn says, flashing me a grin.
    We continue climbing the stairs until we reach the floor housing the Council members’ offices. “Are you getting an office up here?” I ask.
    Ryn shakes his head. “They offered me one, but I declined. Since I’m still leading a guardian team and don’t have many Council responsibilities yet, I’d rather continue working on the same level as my team members.” He looks over his shoulder, then adds in a low voice, “It’s far too boring up here.”
    If nerves weren’t currently twisting my face into a pained expression, I’d probably smile at that. We stop beside Councilor Merrydale’s office, and Ryn knocks while I take another slow breath that does absolutely nothing to calm the building anxiety in my stomach.
    “Enter,” calls a high-pitched voice that definitely does not belong to Councilor Merrydale.
    “Leave your bag outside,” Ryn says. I let the bag slip to the floor as he opens the door. He lets me walk in ahead of him. Behind the large desk I’ve become accustomed to seeing the cheerful Councilor Merrydale sitting at, I find a short man with slicked-back hair arguing with a woman I’ve seen several times near the training center. The man is one of those unfortunate male faeries whom nature decided to grace with a feminine color. Looking into his annoyed pink eyes, I’m reminded for a moment of a rat.
    Focus, Calla!
    Next thing I’ll ruin everything by projecting an image of Councilor Bouchard scurrying around on the floor. Something tells me I wouldn’t be able to explain that one away without landing myself on the Griffin List.
    “So this one is the fake?” Councilor Bouchard asks the woman in accented English. He waves a bronze bangle decorated with clockwork parts and green gems in front of her face before smacking it down on the desk. “And you do not know how long the real one has been missing?”
    “No,” the woman says. “It’s an exact replica. And the alarm was never—”
    “And why was it here? Do you not know the procedure? Artifacts such as this must be sent to the vault at the Seelie Court.”
    “Harmless artifacts, yes. But as I’ve already explained to you—”
    “No.” Councilor Bouchard holds a hand up as if silencing a child. “No more explaining. I will be downstairs in ten minutes to address your entire department.”
    The woman snatches the bangle from the desk and strides past me, her lips pressed together in anger.
    Councilor Bouchard crosses his arms and turns his pink gaze to me. His eyes widen briefly as he takes me in. It’s a reaction I’m used to. Faeries come in all colors of the rainbow, but, as I’ve discovered after attending seven different schools, gold isn’t a common one. In fact, I’ve never met anyone with hair and eyes the same color as mine. “And who are you?” he asks in a way that leaves me feeling like I’m wasting his time