THE REGISTRATION HALL

Talia Draycott found her twenty minutes later, still standing exactly where Emeric had left her, and took one look at Marlowe's expression before sighing with the particular weariness of someone who already suspected what had happened.

"You met Emeric," Talia said. It wasn't a question.

"I refused to kneel at the gate."

Talia's eyebrows climbed. "Nobody refuses that. Not on the first day. Most Unranked students don't even know they're allowed to refuse — they just do it because nobody's told them otherwise, and by the time they figure out it's optional, the precedent's already set for the rest of the year."

"Nobody explained why I should. I don't grovel for unexplained reasons." Marlowe fell into step beside her, grateful for a familiar face after the unsettling weight of Emeric's attention. "Is that going to be a problem?"

"Depends how you define problem," Talia said. "It's already made you memorable, which at Greywatch is rarely a neutral thing to be. I'm Talia, by the way. Draycott line, mid-tier, and apparently your unofficial welcome committee since nobody assigned me that job and I keep doing it anyway."

"Marlowe Kestrel."

Talia's step didn't falter, but something in her expression sharpened, quick and thoughtful. "Kestrel," she repeated. "Huh."

"You too? Emeric said my name like it meant something. You're doing the same thing."

"It's an old name," Talia said carefully. "Not common. I've seen it in a few of the older lineage texts, buried in footnotes mostly. I didn't think anything of it until just now, observing your face when you said it." She studied Marlowe with new, careful attention. "You really don't know anything about your own family?"

"Foster care. No records past a name and a birth date. The academy's aptitude test flagged me for enrollment, and here I am." Marlowe kept her voice deliberately even, refusing to let the question rattle her more than it already had. "Why does everyone keep reacting like the name should mean something to me?"

"I don't know yet," Talia admitted. "But I'd start paying attention to who reacts, and how, if I were you. This place runs fully on inherited status. A name that makes ranked students go quiet is either meaningless coincidence, or it's the single most important thing about you, and I don't think meaningless coincidence explains Emeric Castellan crossing an entire courtyard just to hear you say it out loud."

They reached the registration hall as Talia finished speaking, its ceiling painted with constellations that shifted position whenever Marlowe looked away, and joined the line of new students filing toward a thin, ink-stained registrar seated at the front.

"Kestrel, Marlowe," the registrar called, and Marlowe stepped forward, watching his pen pause fractionally over his ledger the moment he registered the name — the same small hesitation she was beginning to recognize as a pattern rather than coincidence.

"Bloodline?" he asked.

"Unknown."

"Parents?"

"Deceased. No record of either attending Greywatch or any comparable institution." Marlowe kept her chin level, refusing to let his obvious unease dictate her own composure. "I understand my test results were unusually high for an Unranked applicant."

The registrar's gaze lifted, sharp and assessing in a way that had nothing to do with routine paperwork. "You understand correctly," he said. "Dormitory assignment: Thistlebrook House, lowest tier. Service assignment: pending review." He stamped her papers with visible reluctance, the ink pressed harder than the gesture strictly required. "I'd suggest you keep your head down for the first few weeks, Miss Kestrel. Some attention isn't worth attracting before you understand what you're actually dealing with."

"That's the second warning I've received in under an hour," Marlowe said. "Nobody's told me anything specific enough to actually heed it."

"That's rather the point," the registrar said, already calling the next name, dismissing her with the particular finality of someone who had said considerably more than he'd intended to and had no intention of elaborating further.

Marlowe collected her papers and rejoined Talia near the hall's entrance, the weight of two separate strangers' deliberate, unexplained caution settling uneasily alongside Emeric's unsettling recognition of her name.

"Pending review," Talia read over her shoulder, her earlier ease replaced by genuine concern. "That doesn't happen for Unranked students, Marlowe. Service assignments are automatic. Whoever wants you for something specific enough to warrant personal review, I promise you it isn't random curiosity."

"I'm starting to gather that," Marlowe said, and found, despite the mounting unease pooling in her chest, that some stubborn, contrary part of her refused to feel anything close to afraid. If Greywatch Academy had decided her unknown name was worth this much careful, unexplained caution, she intended to understand completely why before anyone else got to decide what that meant on her behalf.

They made their way toward the dormitories afterward, Thistlebrook House rising at the academy's furthest edge, noticeably plainer than the towers Marlowe had glimpsed near the main courtyard, its stonework weathered and its windows narrow.

"Lowest tier," Marlowe said, reading the building's faded sign. "I'm sensing a theme."

"Get used to it," Talia said, though the earlier warmth had returned to her voice, some of the tension easing now that they were away from the registration hall's watchful atmosphere. "Everything here has a tier. Housing, dining, class placement, even which library floors you're permitted to study on. Unranked students get the basement archives. Ranked-but-not-Founding get the main floor. Founding families get the entire east wing, most of which sits empty because they've had private tutors their whole lives and only show up for exams."

"That's an enormous amount of infrastructure dedicated to reminding me exactly how unimportant I'm supposed to be."

"Welcome to Greywatch," Talia said. "Though for what it's worth, judging by this morning, I don't think 'unimportant' is actually the word anyone here has decided applies to you. Whatever you are, Marlowe, I don't think small is part of it."