I looked at the drawing for a long time.
"This was before you knew who I was," I said.
"I knew you came in on Ryke's bike," he said. "I knew you were new. I knew you were trying very hard to look like someone who wasn't in the middle of something terrible." He paused. "I draw what I see."
I looked at the girl on the page.
Small. Careful. Not invisible — Duke hadn't drawn her invisible. He'd drawn her the way I apparently looked to eyes that paid attention: present, guarded, containing something large in a very deliberately small amount of space.
"Why are you showing me this?" I said.
"Because you need to know what you looked like two days ago," he said. "So you can see what you look like now."
He turned one more page.
The training yard. Me with the practice staff. My feet apart, we
