“The Scribe Quadrant,” he says slowly, turning to face me. This angle makes me taller than he is, and I glare down at him. “I can’t go to the Scribe Quadrant, Dain.” “I’m sorry?” His eyebrows fly up. “She won’t stand for it.” I shake my head. His mouth opens, then shuts, and his fists clench at his sides. “This place will kill you, Violet. You can’t stay here. Everyone will understand. You didn’t volunteer—not really.”
