Page 87 of Shadow Mark

“Don’t be absurd?—”

“Dr. Kelley,” Harol said, using the English word and not letting the translator chip choose the closest approximation, “is a skilled and dedicated physician. This institution would be honored to include her as a member.”

“That’s all well and good, but?—”

Harol continued to speak, completely unbothered by the blustering protests from the shadowy figures seated at the table. “Let us be frank. Dr. Kelley is the personal physician to Princess Sarah, who counts her as a friend. She is also a particular friend of the king. Do you think it is in the academy’s interest to spoil a partnership that has such connections?”

“How dare you threaten this board?” a new voice piped up.

“How dare you waste my time?!” Harol retorted. If he kept going, he’d get them both kicked out of the academy.

Lenore kicked his foot, not subtly either. Harol turned to glare at her, his tirade paused. She whispered, “You’re not helping.”

The board members murmured among themselves. Eventually, one spoke, “Perhaps it would be best for Lady Kelley to step down until things have settled.”

“No. Absolutely not,” Lenore said. “I have no intention of stepping down. I appreciate that the board has concerns, but my commitment remains the same.”

“Yes, well, it’s a lot for you, isn’t it?” The second person spoke, the one with the kind voice. Right now, that kind voice was being condescending as fuck. “Earth is primitive, and we’re asking you to demonstrate competency with technology that your kind is simply unfamiliar with. I hate to see you struggle.”

Lenore clenched her hands, forcing herself to hold her tongue. Giving this board a piece of her mind would only make a bad situation worse. She wanted to…she didn’t know. Make a big show. Demonstrate that they didn’t frighten her, despite all the drama and theatrics, sitting in a gloomy room with shadows cloaking their faces.

Big deal. She could do that.

Lenore wasn’t sure where that idea came from, perhaps Trouble. Her skin itched, like something inside her was trying really hard to manifest. She flexed her fingers like she could pull strands of darkness toward her.

Nothing came of it, and nothing would come of this farce of a review. Her shoulders slumped, done trying to do the impossible.

“I’m doing the work, and I’ll pass the exam,” she said.

More whispers. “We’ll review your case again in three months. You are dismissed.”

Lenore burst out of the room and flew down the steps, her feet barely touching the treads.

“Slow down. My damn hip wasn’t made for running all over creation. I retired for medical reasons, you know, not just because I’m old as fuck,” Harol grumbled. He took the steps at a more cautious pace, moving stiffly and holding onto the railing.

Lenore wanted to scream. If this was the pushback she got now, it’d only get worse once the engagement was announced. It was made absolutely clear that Baris had applied unsubtle amounts of pressure to make the academy admit her. They didn’t want her. They resented her. They were itching to kick her out. Any reason would do.

“First, I’m a distraction. I mean, fair. Then I’m too primitive to understand your super complex technology.” Lenore wanted to throttle the kind-but-condescending board member but settled for tossing her hands in the air; murder was generally not the way to demonstrate that you were a skilled and dedicated physician.

“They’re not going to let me do it, are they?” she asked when Harol reached the bottom step.

“They can’t stop you from doing a damn thing.”

Yes, they could. She had to pick: Baris or her career.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

LENORE

The stylist tossed out all her clothes, declaring that Lenore’s complexion was better suited for cool spring colors, not the sad, unflattering palette that she cobbled together. It was rather insulting, if accurate. She could admit that she didn’t have an eye for style. She liked comfy and colorful. Nothing coordinated in the basic wardrobe she managed to acquire in the last two years, other than the simple black pants that went with everything. Not that she had a ton of clothes to toss.

She put her foot down and managed to hold onto the cardigans. They were practical. She was often cold. Even so, new cardigans and thick, cuddly sweaters arrived in the colors approved for her complexion.

When she arrived back in her rooms to prepare for Councilor Raelle’s retirement party, she thought nothing of the outfit and accessories laid out neatly on her bed. She showered off the smell of disinfectant from her skin, did her hair, and put on her party face, her party face being moisturizer and lip gloss. Lenore had never been big on makeup. She had a bad habit of rubbing her eyes during the day, and that spelled disaster for mascara. Better to avoid the whole thing.

Not that she was thrilled about the party. Dread was a better way to describe it. She didn’t even understand why she was invited. She was hardly Raelle’s favorite person. Presumably, Raelle felt compelled to invite Lenore because she was now an aristocrat. Was that what she could expect now that she was a member of high society? Invited to parties she didn’t want to attend by people who didn’t want her there?

Satisfied with her hair piled on top of her head and no longer concerned that she smelled of the clinic, she looked at the gorgeous outfit the tailor left for her.

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