When Radix woke him early that morn with the message that Valens was letting him skip salutatio, Domi did not waste the unexpected break from his aedificans. He and Radix made efficient use of the extra time. They perched at a table in the common and watched the other alumnas in their dormitory leave for classes at the neighboring conservatory. Next, they observed servants come and go on their errands, paying close attention to where each target went and when.

By the time another messenger arrived from Valens, the two of them had begun figuring out a general schedule in their minds of the students' and servants' habits. Determining who would be away, when, and how long would make it much easier to snatch a thing or two from the neighboring students without detection.

Radix, nibbling the dulciola the pair shared, straightened as the Pyrrhaei messenger girl arrived. "What?"

The servant girl seemed annoyed about the simple acknowledgement but delivered her message. "Promerenti," she said, dipping her head to Domi. He squirmed in discomfort at the term and the gesture of respect. "Aedilis Valens sent me to inform you that he expects you before the last of the rainwater dries on his domus's front steps."

"That's oddly specific," Radix noted.

"What the heck is an aedilis?" Domi asked.

"A promenia expert with voting rights in the curia," the other Pullatus said, lifting one brow at him. "How do I know that and you don't?"

"You know everything, and Valens doesn't like teaching," Domi said. "I think he makes me breathe all day so he doesn't need to talk to me." He was only half-joking.

The girl sniffed. "The Aedilis also said he expects breakfast."

The pair of Pullati glanced down at the common's marble platform. One, maybe two droplets of rainwater remained on the stone outside the pavilion's cover. Domi darted to his feet.

"You move so fast now," Radix said, eying him like he had sprouted night-side flowers from his head.

"Not fast enough," Domi said, scurrying toward the distant hill. "See you later."

When the alumna darted through Valens's entrance chamber into the courtyard, leaped over the rain pool, and skidded into the salutatio hall, he found his aedificans waiting for him at the table.

Valens lifted a brow as Domi panted. "You didn't run often as a Pullatus." It was not a question.

Domi straightened with a gasp, wondering if he had made it before the raindrops dried up. He was pretty sure he had. Something flickered at the corner of his eye, a shadow shifting, and faded. He rubbed his forehead as it throbbed with mild pain after his race up the hill. "A smart snatcher never needs to run," he wheezed.

His aedificans blinked at him for a moment, seeming to search for something, then shook his head and assessed him with a critical eye. "What are you wearing?"

The boy peered down at himself. He had managed to avoid the Rain earlier that morn by sitting in the shelter of the pavilion, but now sweat dampened his tunica and paenula. His mad dash left both wrinkled and out of place. He straightened the paenula so the flares of bright yellow, orange, and blue-green around the collar aligned once more with the tunica.

"Clothes," he said. "The stuff you bought me." After a moment, he remembered to add, "Aedificanti."

Valens shook his head. "That is not..." He sighed, scratching the stubble around his chin.

Domi scanned the man's attire in distaste. He hoped he wouldn't wake up one day and start fretting over his clothing like the obnoxious dunce. Valens was, of course, neatly dressed as always. Domi's wardrobe held a pair of garments a youthful shade darker than the adult version his aedificans wore, a milky, glossy blue so pale it almost appeared white. The man never wore the same clothes twice, and sometimes Valens changed outfits multiple times a day. Such wastefulness shocked Domi, who up until recently owned naught but the two threadbare tunicas he hadn't pawned off.

Domi's aedificans watched him eye the pale blue fabric and nodded as though deciding something. "Alumna, do you know what this is?"

"Clothing," Domi said again. He shrugged as the worldholder waited. "A tunica and paenula. Expensive ones. What more do you want me to say?"

"They're made of clivia fabric. From the night-side beast."

"How nice." Domi frowned as Valens gave him an expectant look. "What? I don't care about fashion or know anything about it." He would talk about it all day though if it would get him out of his breathing exercises.

"We share that in common," the aedificans said, voice dry. "However, there are certain expectations among Promethidae society, Alumna. Social expectations. You understand the colors and lengths of garments worn by our class." His lip twitched in amusement. "Or you would not have worn what you did when you snuck into the Collegium two weeks ago. But I see you do not yet understand more nuanced things."

"Do I need to understand? I think I'm getting by just fine."

Valens sighed. "You're almost fifteen. Next year, you will be eligible to marry." Domi blanched and Valens offered a thin smile at that. "By eighteen, you must be wed. I'm not going to pay your fines each year for refusing to do so. Unless you want to pay them yourself, we will soon need to start considering suitable matches." He eyed Domi up and down. "And any eligible young ladies will want a suitable match as well."

"I need to get married?" Domi blurted, horrified. There was no way he would do that. No way! He was not ready to be with someone like... like that. A married couple? With a marriage bed? Eyes devour him, no way! His cheeks burned.

"We must all produce Promethidae children for the curia." Valens sounded glum, and Domi remembered the Praetor was marrying him off to Arbita. How would that work? The two hated each other.

Valens tipped his chin at Domi's outfit. "Danger is in fashion in our curia. Don't ask me why. I don't decide these absurd things. But I play along with them. I'm wearing clivia fabric, from a deadly night-side beast. You're wearing pieces of two outfits I bought you. That green tunica should go with the light-magenta paenula I bought you. The one with the clusters of purple dots at the collar and sleeves." He snorted. "To evoke the poisonous pokeberry plant. And the paenula you're wearing should go with the orange tunica, reminding people of flame."

"You seriously expect me to dress like that? Like a candle or berry bush? Really?" It was the stupidest thing he had ever heard.

"I expect you to try. At least until you understand the rules enough to break them in socially-acceptable ways."

Domi rolled his eyes. "So I need to learn to follow stupid unspoken rules when breaking unspoken rules. Got it."

"Believe me, Alumna, I understand how you feel. But this is the way things are. I'm responsible for your future now." He sounded more resigned than bitter for once, and Domi wondered at the change. "Also, you need to get rid of that." His fingers flicked toward Domi's neck and the amulet hanging from it.

The boy frowned, taking the wooden necklace in hand. "What? Get rid of my bulla?" That was madness. He had worn the amulet every day of his life since Merula had first given it to him as a tiny babe. The tri-hand symbol—carved into the shape of three conjoined hands to represent the separate roles and shared purpose of the Pyrrhaei, Promethidae, and the Eternal Radiance—protected people from the Eyes. "Everyone wears one."

Valens shook his head. "Not Promethidae children your age. That superstition is only fit for Pyrrhaei and little children who can't trust in their own sorcery to protect them."

"Well, then it is perfect for me, since I have no sorcery to protect me."

"Alumna—"

He crossed his arms. "Aedificanti." For a moment they stared at one another. Valens's amber eyes narrowed and Domi shook his head. "It is the Eternal Radiance who protects me, not my sorcery. I hold the Sublime Light, I didn't create it."

Valens sighed. "That is a ridiculous tale we tell the commoners to keep them in their place, so we don't end up with another Pyrrhaei Rebellion on our hands. A little story about being chosen by the divine to rule helps them not think too much about how they outnumber us ten thousand to one."

Domi set his jaw and glared. His ma gave him his bulla. If Valens didn't like him wearing it, the man could go hug a clivia.

His aedificans grimaced. "Fine, if you want to look like a little child or superstitious Pyrrhaei fool, be my guest. Don't come whining to me though if the only girl who will wed you is some control freak who only wants your worldholder children and connection to me."

Domi laughed. "She's welcome to have you. I don't want you."

Valens huffed a dry chuckle. "Too bad." He shook his head and tapped the table in front of him. "Now, enough of that. Breakfast, then breathing."

"Can't you find a servant to make you breakfast? Even I have someone." Sort of. He doubted Radix would ever cook for him during this little charade.

"I have one," Valens said. "That is what alumnas are for. Start cooking."