11. Chapter 11 The Courtyard #3
Lucien shrugged. “Renvaya is an exquisite creature. Beautiful.”
“Are you smitten with her? It sounds like it.”
“Smitten? No. However, I know when to recognize the attractiveness of a woman.”
Liora gave a shallow shrug. “She is alluring.”
A panel above the overhang shifted.
Corvath dropped through the gap onto the back of the bench, landed on the stone armrest, and sat down with the composed precision of a cat who had meant to arrive from exactly that location at exactly this time.
His black fur caught the light. His gold eyes surveyed the courtyard before settling on Lucien.
“The passage from the third-floor atrium connects to the maintenance shaft above this overhang,” he said. “Tight behind the junction box, but manageable. I’m adding it to the network. Damn, I’m good.”
“How long have you been in there?” Lucien asked.
“Long enough to map the junction. Tight squeeze behind the pipes, but the route works.” He licked one paw, unhurried, grooming and reconnaissance running on the same clock. “The hearing. I trust the snake’s new fashionable five-finger brand was discussed at length and found to be well-deserved.”
“No formal action. I will remain a student here. My sympathies to the academy.”
“As it should be. The scaled bastard earned every mark.” He settled into a compact loaf on the armrest, tail wrapped around his paws. “And the father?”
“Outmaneuvered by the headmistress and too vain to admit it.” Lucien scratched behind Corvath’s ear once, and the cat allowed it without acknowledging the gesture.
“Excellent. The bloodline is consistent.” His eyes half-closed. “I assume the professor said something interesting, given the tension radiating off both of you.”
Liora looked at the cat. “She went the extra mile to make sure he was protected and called him by his name. Lucien says he isn’t smitten, though.”
Corvath’s eyes opened fully. One ear rotated toward Liora, then back. “Well,” he said. “Lucien is infamous for his ability to construct lies and deliver them with precision.”
Liora turned back to Lucien. The courtyard was quiet around them now. The second-years were gone. The bird hadn’t come back. Sunlight sat on the flagstones in a wide wash, and the empty fountain held its own shadow.
“Here’s what concerns me,” she said. “Renvaya is the person investigating your power. She’s been collecting data points since you opened your mouth in her class and said something no first-year should know.
The standing wave, the margin notes, the dungeon strike, the corridor branding.
She has more on you than anyone at this academy except Elyndra, and Elyndra isn’t actively digging.
” She put her hand on his knee. The heat of her came through his trousers.
“The question is whether her feelings make her safer or more dangerous.”
“Both, I would guess.”
“Yes. Both.” She squeezed once. “She’ll protect you.
She already did. She crossed the line she drew for herself.
She cares about what happens to you, and that kind of protection is worth something.
But she’ll also keep digging. Not because she wants to catch you.
Because she wants to understand you. And wanting to understand someone is more persistent than wanting to catch them, because it doesn’t have a finish line. ”
“She’s smart enough to know that pushing would close the door,” Liora said. “That’s exactly the kind of dangerous I’m talking about.”
She let go of his knee and leaned back against the wall, settling into the stone behind her. She’d said what she had to say.
“Watch her,” Liora said. “Don’t avoid her.
Don’t change how you talk to her. If she’s crossing lines, she’s doing it because staying on her side of them stopped making sense to her.
That means she’s already past the point where professional distance protects you.
” She looked at him, and her gold eyes held the steady, unsentimental warmth of a woman who wasn’t jealous and wasn’t pretending otherwise.
“The best version of this is a professor who cares about you enough to keep protecting you and too much to push past what you’re willing to give.
The worst version is a professor who cares about you enough to figure out what you are because she thinks knowing will bring her closer. ”
“You’ve thought about this a lot over this short time in the courtyard. Are you sure you aren’t jealous?”
“I’ve been sitting on this bench for forty minutes with a book I didn’t read. I’ve had time.” She stood and picked up her bag. “Come on. Lunch. I’m hungry and you look like you need food.”
“I always look like I need food apparently, according to my mate and my familiar.” He stood too, and Corvath stood on the armrest, stretched, and dropped to the flagstones between them.
Corvath looked at Lucien and tilted his head slightly. “You do always look like you need food. It’s one of your defining characteristics. Accept it.”
Corvath walked ahead of them toward the dining hall, tail up, black fur catching the light where the courtyard met the sun.