Veda folds her arms, still waiting for her question to be answered. A tight expression crosses Simran’s face. “If you must know, I inquired about you, Miss Thorne. Peter tells me you spent a year studying Eastern brewing in my hometown, Bangalore, India. You were born in Maine, turned thirty eleven days ago, and do not possess Sight. Your mother was a tenured professor of theoretical Earth magic, and your father was an expert stonemaker. They Vanished when you were sixteen,during the Great Vanishing. To your credit, you did not let this tragedy stop you and went to college on scholarship, graduating with high honors in magiology and Earth medicine. You studied to be a doctor at Riverty University, where you again graduated with high honors, but quit during your internship. Pity.”
Keeping quiet in the face of a woman who will talk more when given a stage is harder than Veda realized, but she’s motivated by irritation at Simran’s flippant attitude toward her tragedy, her life.
“That is all I was able to gather. You see, Miss Thorne, I like to know everything about those I invite into my personal space. I want to surround my grandson with the rightkindof people, if you understand what I mean.”
Veda’s politeness dies. “Clearly.”
Mages and Seers live, work, and are educated mostly separately because of the normalization of prejudice. Demeaning incidents, slurs, biases, and the desire to remain independent of each other are common occurrences. Casual cruelty. Mages’ actions are dismissed as harmless yet cause tremendous damage. The most extreme bigots use rhetoric involving extermination, like “breeding out the gene,” and express a desire to bring back a time when Seers were controlled by injecting them with magic-blocking serum and forcing them into compliant servitude. Where on the scale Simran lies, Veda can’t tell. Her willingness to enroll Antaris in the only integrated school in Proventia is promising, considering there are other institutions that fit her taste. More importantly, Veda can’t help but wonder what the hell Peter is thinking by allowing a proud bigot to setfooton the property.
With over three hundred students from years one to twelve, half of whom are Seers, security has always been tight due to threats from various hate groups. Since its opening, and more so in the years since Peter took over, the academy has been vandalized, Seer students attacked walking to and from campus, and law enforcement has made it clear they watch the school closely—not to protect anyone but to arrest anySeer who steps out of line. Allowing a bigot free access to the faculty and student body is dangerous.
“I would not have requested this meeting had I not thought you were worthy.” At Veda’s visible tension, Simran continues. “Consider my approval a compliment, Miss Thorne.”
Veda certainly does not.
Simran gestures to the chair once more, clearly used to getting her way. “Please sit. I insist.”
“I prefer to stand.”
“Very well.”
From Veda’s vantage point, observing Antaris and Simran comes naturally. Grandmother and grandson. Aside from the freckles, their features vastly differ. Simran’s are delicate and fawn-like, a contrast to her strong presence, while Antaris’s are rounder yet serious. The only resemblance Veda can find is that they both lookthroughpeople, not at them.
She catches Antaris staring at her amulet.
“Is he Sensitive?” Veda asks.
Like oxygen, magic is omnipresent, but Sensitives are naturally able to feel or smell residual magic after a spell has been cast. Or when it has been imbued into objects like her necklace. Sensitivity is found only in Mages. Along with wealth, it’s used to define social hierarchy, with wealthy Sensitives at the top.
“His father and grandfather are, but Antaris is not.” Simran doesn’t disguise her tinge of disappointment. “There will be no need for accommodations, if that is why you are asking.”
It isn’t, but Veda doesn’t probe further. Despite working at a school, she finds teenagers and babies easier to manage than children old enough to talk yet young enough to lack the filter of common sense developed by experience. Veda glances at Peter, her patience slipping along with her manners. “Not to be rude, but why exactly am I here?”
“Simran wanted to discuss something with you.”
The woman in question moves to stand at the end of the desk. “I take it Peter did not inform you about my visit.”
“He didn’t.”
Simran assesses her further before nodding. “You will do as a tutor for my grandson.”
Antaris looks more confused than Veda.
“Isn’t he—” She refuses to keep talking about him like he isn’t there, turning to the boy. “Aren’t you in year one?”
“Yes, he is,” Simran replies.
Irritation spikes, but Veda suppresses the unproductive emotion. “Typically, their curriculum—”
“Is not my concern. Tutor him for two hours a day following dismissal. I intend for him to be ready for testing to gain admittance into a respectable school.”
From the corner of her eye, Veda catches Peter shifting his weight.
“Weston Academy is an excellent school,” Veda says.
“It is. I can hardly tell it is an integrated school. The teenage Seers are well behaved and polite.”
“They are no different than Mage teenagers.” Veda glances at Peter, who pinches the bridge of his nose. “Are you awareheis a Seer?”
