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in High Scape, only much grander, and with bellpulls.
    Again, nothing of real interest there, until we came to a particular room at the northeastern end of the house. A large room, but without the additions of the other suites. The walls were cream colored, there was only a small fireplace, and the bed was that of a child’s. There was a trunk in one corner, and empty shelves lined one wall.
    “We’re not sure what to do with this room,” said Dane. “It’s so much starker than the others. We thought about making it into a nursery, but the servants don’t like coming in here. Some outright refuse.”
    Taro froze, shaking. I suspected I knew why. I guessed this was the room Taro had spent most of the first eleven years of his life locked in. Banished from family and possible friends because his parents interpreted his common Source trait of occasionally spouting nonsense as a sign of madness. Left in the single room for eleven years where, as far as I could tell, his parents never visited him and his significantly older brother spent his idle hours tormenting the younger boy by tossing him about and screaming at him.
    Taro dashed out of the room.
    “What’s wrong?” Dane asked, perplexed.
    “Bad memories,” I muttered, furious at myself for not anticipating this and warning Dane. I followed Taro out, but he was down the stairs and around a corner, and the house had suddenly become a maze. He was gone.

Chapter Four
    I looked for Taro but was unable to find him. If he wanted so badly to hide from me, he wouldn’t listen to anything I had to say even if I could find him. So I went back to our rooms, where he could find me when he wanted to. I decided I might as well write those reports for the Triple S.
    So, how to write a report that would satisfy the Triple S council without actually telling them anything. Because I wasn’t going to tell them why the Empress sent us to Flatwell. I didn’t yet know how Taro would handle events. And I didn’t know what to tell them about the Emperor. Maybe I would use a ridiculous amount of multisyllabic words and make each sentence at least half a page long. Whoever was forced to read it would get sick of it and put it aside for later, and eventually they’d forget all about us.
    Sure, that would work.
    I decided I’d write a letter to Aryne first. She was the descendant of the collateral line the Empress had been looking for. The Empress hadn’t liked her, after Taro and I had spent months looking for her, but as Aryne was also a Source, we’d left her at the Source Academy. I wrote to her occasionally, so she wouldn’t think we’d forgotten her.
    And while I was writing to her, I might get some decent ideas about what to write to the council. It wasn’t at all about procrastinating.
    Before I finished the letter, Taro came into the room. I looked up at him, but he didn’t look at me. He just paced.
    “Maybe we shouldn’t live here,” I found myself saying.
    “Don’t start that again. We’ve been posted here.”
    “No, I mean maybe we shouldn’t live in this house.”
    “Where else would we live?”
    “I’m sure we could find an inn or something.” That was what Pairs often did.
    “And we would tell my cousin what as we throw her hospitality back in her face?”
    “Blame it on artistic temperament.”
    “Mine, I suppose.”
    “We can claim it’s mine, if you want. I don’t care.” Actually, it would irk me a little, but that was better than having Taro tied in knots all the time.
    He snorted. “You must be really worried about me if you’re willing to admit to any kind of emotional turmoil.”
    Hey, was he trying to claim I actually had emotional turmoil? He was the moody one. “Your mother lives right next door, Taro. I’m more than willing to put some space between us and her.”
    “Oh, my gods.” He put a hand over his eyes. “Her.”
    Actually, I found it strange that she hadn’t come over yet, but I didn’t say so. Speaking it out loud, I