“Again?”
His outraged tone stole a smile from me. “That’s how I feel too.”
Leah and I walked to the Lyceum together on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, so I knocked on her door. When she opened it, she dragged her hand against her brow in exaggerated relief. Last night, when I’d woken her to say I was letting Daziel stay, I’d asked if I was making a terrible mistake. She’d looked dubious, and said, “Probably. But I can hear you through the walls if you scream.”
I offered her a croissant. “Good morning.”
She considered it. “Is it bespelled?”
“I don’t think so. I recognized the bakery bag. I’m not taking any chances with my new pear tree, though.”
We headed to school, Daziel behind us. Leah had no qualms about handing him her rucksack to carry, and after a moment, I did too. “You don’t seem to be murdered,” she said. “Seduced? Aren’t demons into seducing people?”
“I suppose coffee and croissants are a form of seduction.” Maybe I could become the kind of person who airily spoke about seduction. It should be easy to joke about, as Daziel wasn’t trying to seduce me, just use me to hide from his parents.
I wondered what it would look like if he tried to seduce me.
Leah let out a thoughtful hum, and I shut down my thoughts. “MaybeIshould pretend to be betrothed to a demon.”
Daziel followed me to my classes. In addition to Old Cinnaian and hieroglyphic Keft, I studied Tzorybia, the language of a sprawling northeastern empire that had been one of the premier centers of scholarship for centuries and in whose tongue much modern scholarship had been done. These classes didn’t interest Daziel. He slept through them, curled up on the floor in pools of sunlight, Paz draped over his head. I didn’t say anything, and neither did the other students or professors. It seemed wiser not to.
They watched, though. It had been twenty-four hours since Daziel first stepped on campus, and the entire student population now knew about him. Both casual acquaintances and people I’d never talked to stopped by to say hello, expressions bright with curiosity. “I didn’t realize you were betrothed,” Sara Apter from my Intro to T3 class said, leaning over from her desk. “How’d you guys meet?”
“Picking flowers,” I said. Best stick to one lie.
Overall, people didn’t seem to view Daziel with too much fear or suspicion. Since I’d theoretically vetted him, and because he didn’t pay anyone but me any attention, they mostly left him alone, as one would anyone’s guest.
They did stare a lot more, though.
The only class Daziel showed interest in was Intro to Spellwriting. “This is how you write your spells?” he asked, studying my worksheet on Taro Islands seals. Most spells in the countries surrounding the Long Sea used the thirty charaktêres of ring letters, but students at the Lyceum also learned the seals used in the Taro Islands and the far-off Green Continent, along with the seven symbolic string letters used by eastern civilizations. “You make things so complicated.”
I felt vaguely insulted on humanity’s behalf. “And how do you do it?”
“We just ask for what we want. It seems much easier.”
“Well, excuse me for being from a species not imbued with magic.”
“You are excused,” he said politely, which made me want to kick him.
He proved to be an able tutor, though, making good on his promise to help with my language studies. He was almost too tough, forcing me to complete practice after practice, insisting I work on my Old CinnaianLuntil he deemed it passable. “No one even speaks Old Cinnaian anymore,” I muttered, irritated. “Why do I have to say theLcorrectly?”
“Scholars speak it,” Daziel said. “Their keeping it alive is the only reason I can understand it. And if you want to honor it, you will speak it correctly.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, and he looked embarrassed. “Sorry. My tutors were—exacting.”
“Hmph,” I said. “Well. I’lltryto say theLright.”
~~~
On Friday, he followedme to my cryptography seminar. Anxiety wound my nerves tight as we made our way to the Keep. I cared about my work on the scrolls more than anything else—I needed this interaction to go well, but I had no idea how my professor or his other three students would react to Daziel.
Most importantly, I needed Professor Altschuler’s respect—or at least for him to consider me a worthwhile, serious student. He’d accepted me to the Lyceum, and he would decide if I received a scholarship next year. If I wasn’t talented or valuable enough, he might dismiss me.
“You have to behave,” I told Daziel as we approached the Keep, in the same tone I used to tell Michal not to so obviously sneak food on fasting days or Adina not to flirt during shivas. “No weird stuff. Professor Altschuler is tough.”
It was nearing four and the last hour of classes for the day. We climbed the Keep’s stairs, stopping at the fourth floor, where Professor Altschuler taught his cryptography seminar. I took a steadying breath, gazing out the windows at rain dripping from the flat sky into the blue-gray river.
“When have I ever done anything weird?” said the person who’d spent this morning talking an acorn into sprouting into the tiniest oak in one of my coffee mugs. Admittedly, I hadn’t minded. But it warranted a warning glance as we stepped into the room.
