A murmur rippled through the hall, but Meredith's blood ran hot. Sponsor. The word was a chain, binding her dreams to the very system that mocked her. She wanted to step forward, to voice the injustice. Why must the light of the gods be gated by gold and titles? Her lips parted, the protest forming on her tongue…
…but she clamped her mouth shut. No one would listen. Not to her. The aristocrats would smirk, and the instructors would dismiss her as ungrateful. Swallowing the words like bitter gall, she felt anger surge, her fists clenching and vision blurring with frustrated tears she refused to shed. Then, as quickly as it flared, the fire guttered out, leaving defeat in its wake. A hollow ache settled in her chest, heavy as lead.
