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discovered by me and Jude on the beach. Father doesn't like my being in here because I am so enthralled by the Forerunners, but I doubt that will matter to him today.
    "What are you doing here, Juno?" he asks bluntly, seated before an oversized sentinel pine desk. His tone doesn't catch me off guard exactly – Father has always been a blunt man–but it still isn't the greeting I was expecting. After today, and with all the rumors flying around, I thought for sure he'd be dying to see me. 
    "Well?" he asks, cold eyes boring into my own. I'm drawing a blank. I ’d expected him to start grilling me immediately. Was he waiting for me to confess about the beach? That wouldn't be like him. Father never beats around the bush. My eyes dart around the room, finding the only object on the walls that even remotely catches my eye anymore. Something called a ‘foto’. It's like a painting, but not. Father says it’s a snapshot of real life, like a recorded memory put to paper. The foto is ancient, ripped and weathered, depicting a young family in front of a strange looking home. It's like something out of a child's fantasy. The family wears strange garments emblazoned with even more bizarre symbology.
    But they seem happy.
    "Juno? What's the matter with you?"
    I tear my eyes from the foto and back onto my Father. Even sitting down, he's an imposing figure, taller than most men and rail thin. A graying moustache droops in cascades from his upper lip, hanging to just below his chin. He's still wearing his High Deacon surcoat, but its wrinkled and dirty and... Is that a blood stain?
    I finally find my voice. "I... I just wanted to make sure you're alright, that's all. I heard about Thomas at work." I'm testing the waters here, seeing what my Father knows. He'd call me out right away if he knew I'd actually been at the Judgment.
    "Oh," he replies, his face melting from a scowl to a deep frown. "I suppose you would have. Listen, Juno, I already had this discussion with Traylor. I can't tell you everything, but know that what was done, was done for the good of Krakelyn. It was a regrettable thing, and the hardest Judgment I've had to make since your Mother."
    I wince at the mention of her but, again, I'm used to this type of forthrightness from my Father. He knows my feelings on the subject, but I've learned to look past it when we're together. It took a long time for me to do that though. "I'm sorry it had to happen," I tell him, genuine sympathy in my tone. "I, um, well, I've heard all the rumors flying around. A mutant in the city." My Father nods. "There isn't anything I should be concerned about, is there?"
    Without hesitation, my Father shakes his head. "No, Juno, it's been taken care of. Everything is alright." He pauses, meeting my eyes with a warmer glance and a hint of a smile. From his creaky old chair, he reaches out and takes my hand. "Do me a favor and go check on your brother for me. I know you weren't close to Thomas, but Traylor was in positive hysterics when I came home. I think he may have seen the Judgment this morning."
    I smirk, trying not to give away too much. "It would be like him to disobey your orders," I reply. I lean down and give the old man a kiss on the forehead. "Don't work yourself too hard," I say, "you need to grieve too." He squeezes my hand in thanks but says nothing, only nods and turns back to the stack of parchment on his desk. That's as much cue as I get that the conversation is over.
    I slip quietly out of the study, closing the door, stopping in the hallway and breathing hard in time to my hammering heart.
    Why hadn't he asked me about the beach? And Jude? 
    He must know that I have that strange metal Box from Everwinter hidden away. Thomas would have told him. So why didn't he call me out on it? Did Thomas Whiskeyjack die because of what we found? If so, why? Father had to have heard the rumor about me and Jude. So why didn't he ask me about it? Selfish hope rises in my chest. If my Father