Valeria had signed the first two pages before she reached the change.
Her name, her age, the academy term: those were where they had been in the earlier copy. The paragraph below them had grown by three lines. She read it twice while the house agent arranged the signed pages in a leather folder.
"This wasn't here yesterday."
The woman looked across the table. "The provisions for practical instruction."
"I can see that." Valeria put the pen down. Too sharply; a drop of ink struck the blotting sheet. "Who added it?"
"It came with the revisions from the house office."
The new paragraph allowed House Embercrown to accept changes to her practical instruction on her behalf. Hours, instructors and supplementary sessions were all included. The line beneath it asked for her acknowledgment and agreement.
"Changes requested by whom?"
"The academy, where necessary."
"Where does it say the academy?"
The agent reached for the page. Valeria kept two fingers on its corner until the woman looked at her. Then she let go. She hadn't meant to turn it into a contest over a sheet of paper.
Outside the guest rooms, men were taking something large along the passage. One called for the others to lift their end. The agent waited until the scraping stopped before she answered.
"The house must be able to coordinate your commitments. You have an engagement to consider as well as your lessons."
"My engagement does not select my instructors."
"No one has suggested that Lord Cedric will select them."
That was not what she had said. Valeria looked at the pen, at the ink already drying on its tip. She could hear herself making the next reply too quickly, and waited until she no longer had it ready.
Cedric had made his attendant repeat an order in front of her. One afternoon without a summons. She still didn't know what he meant by it, or whether the instruction would survive her leaving the room. Even if he kept it, this page concerned the whole term.
She would not put his name into the argument for them to use.
"If I am assigned a session and the house changes it, do I get to refuse?"
"You will be informed."
"That isn't what I asked."
The agent set the page between them. "I cannot settle every circumstance that might arise."
Valeria knew that tone. They were approaching the point at which her questions would become evidence that she was difficult. She had asked for the early court lists so she could see which hours would let her work without an audience. Someone could erase all those choices by sending a better-dressed messenger to the right desk.
"Then don't ask me to agree to every circumstance."
For a moment neither of them moved. The agent glanced at the first two pages, already signed, and began aligning their edges.
"Your father expects these returned today."
Valeria pulled the unsigned page back.
"Return it."
"Lady Valeria."
The use of her full title was worse than an impatient reply. The agent had been courteous from the moment she came into the room. Valeria was the one sitting with her shoulders tight and a spot of ink on the table.
She took a fresh sheet. The first sentence she wrote was too long. She crossed out the middle of it, read what remained and started again beneath it. Who could accept an alteration? Would Valeria receive the proposed hours and instructor before acceptance? Could she withhold agreement without that silence being recorded as consent?
She signed the questions and left the provision unsigned.
The agent read the new sheet. "You could have asked me to take a message."
"I want the answer in writing."
"It may not arrive before the remaining arrangements are made."
"Then they won't have my agreement to this one."
She wanted to add that they could not do it without her. She did not know whether that was true. Instead she put the fresh sheet on top and slid both across the table.
The woman counted the pages. She had been about to put them all into the folder; now she kept the unsigned one separate and wrote a note on the outside of a smaller cover.
"I'll need your intended practice hours each morning until this is resolved."
"You have the weekly list."
"And you've asked for changes to the arrangements governing that list. I must be able to account for any changes you make yourself."
Valeria looked at the smaller cover. Her questions would reach her father with an explanation she would not see.
"At breakfast?"
"Before breakfast, please. Including any private sessions you request." The agent fastened the folder. "I'll have a copy retained with the house correspondence."
There it was. She had kept three lines unsigned and given them a reason to ask where she would be every morning. She pressed her tongue against the back of a tooth, waiting for the first angry answer to pass.
"Send me a copy of what you take."
"Of the request?"
"The request and the unsigned provision. Together."
The agent considered that, then rang for someone to copy the sheets. She remained in the room while they waited. Valeria could not dismiss her without abandoning her own copies, and she had already spent more time on this than on the practice she had planned.
When the copies came, she compared the new paragraph word by word. The space for her signature was empty. She put the two sheets beneath the little clock on the mantel, where she would have to move them to wind it.
The agent left with the originals. Valeria heard the men in the corridor being told to clear the way.
She went back to the table. The pen had begun to dry. She cleaned the nib before putting it away, then turned the ink-spotted blotting sheet over. Tomorrow's hours would have to go somewhere.