“Where are we going?” said Greyson as he stood and reached for a pair of crutches in the corner. I carefully swung my legs around. Someone had dressed me in flannel pajamas, and my foot was in a brace.
“The Ministers of the Union have called a meeting, and they would like for the three of you to be present for it,” said the second guard. I took the crutches from Greyson and stood, wobbling as I leaned on them. I’d used them before for an ankle sprain, but that had been years ago.
“What’s the meeting about?” I said as the three of us traipsed toward the door. Greyson remained at my side, his arm held out as if he intended to catch me if I fell. Some long-buried part of me swelled with an emotion I couldn’t name. Pride? Relief? Gratitude? Acceptance? Despite our differences, and despite al
