That was impossible. Veyron began calling names. Apprentices stepped forward. The array flared. Circles appeared—faint rings of light hovering at their cores. First circle. Some barely stable. A few promising.
He commented. Corrected posture. Moved on.
Closer. Closer. I felt sweat gather at the back of my neck.
"Chubby," I whispered mentally. "Can you—"
"I can mask," he said quickly. "Kind of. I can project a fake imprint. Weak. Shaky. But if the array digs—"
"It won't hold," Raya finished. "Not if the instructor focuses."
Henry exhaled slowly. "If it comes to it, I'll draw attention. Argue. Cause a scene."
"No," I said sharply. "That puts you on a list."
Another name was called.
