ALESSIA
The uniform did not fit the way I expected.
Not physically — Carter had measured me twice before he'd let the tailor near the fabric, and the fit was, if anything, too correct, too considered. What didn't fit was the weight of it. Grey wool blazer, the Shadowcrest crest stitched over the heart in silver thread, the collar stiff enough that I kept touching it in the mirror like it might loosen if I asked nicely.
I didn't ask nicely. I practiced my voice instead — lower, flatter, the register Carter had drilled into me over nineteen mornings — and said, to the empty room, "Alex George."
It sounded like someone else. That was the point.
The fashion design building was across the courtyard, glass-fronted, newer than the stone dormitories, and I got there eleven minutes early becau
