She picked up before Nara had fully committed to the call.
The phone had barely registered a ring — a half-ring, the kind that barely happened — and then Lenne's voice was already there, measured, unhurried, carrying none of the careful waiting that most people put into answering an unexpected call.
"Dr. Voss Ashveil," she said.
"Lenne." Nara moved to the window, looking out at the city. The west side in its late-afternoon gold. "You knew I'd call."
"I thought you might. After the committee announcement." A pause — not uncomfortable, just the pause of someone who chose words carefully. "I wanted to give you time to decide whether you wanted to."
Solène, in the back of Nara's mind, had gone very quiet. Not the waiting kind of quiet. The *I already know how this ends* kind. Which was bo
