She glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "Was Nathaniel giving you a hard time about training me?"
Perceptive.
"Nathaniel has concerns about the political complications of my keeping you alive," he said.
"Political complications." She studied the ward maps. "You mean people are wondering why the Reaper hasn't killed his tribute yet."
"Among other things."
"What other things?"
He shouldn't answer. Shouldn't encourage this. But something about the way she asked made him respond anyway.
"They've noticed I'm less dismissive of your presence than I typically am."
Her hand stilled above the ward map. A slight flush colored her cheeks, visible even in the blue light. She kept her attention fixed on the projections, but he saw her pulse flutter at her throat.
"Well," she said after a moment, her voice forcibly light, "you haven't tried to kill me yet. That's practically friendly by your standards."
The corner of his mouth twitched. "Get comfortable. We have a great deal of work ahead of us."
She finally looked up, meeting his gaze. Her eyes were brighter than they should be, her lips slightly parted.
"Comfortable," she repeated. "In the Reaper's study. That's asking a lot."
"Yet you're still here."
"So I am." She held his gaze for another heartbeat, then turned away to settle into the chair across from his. "Should I be worried about what you're planning to teach me?"
"We'll start with theory. The network's architecture, how the various magical elements interconnect, the principles that govern ward construction and maintenance."
"Sounds thrilling."
"It will keep you alive." He moved to the other side of the table. "Pay attention. Your instincts during the crisis were good, but instinct alone won't be enough for what's coming."
Her expression shifted. Less playful challenge, more serious assessment. "What is coming?"
"War. Someone is targeting the ward network, and they won't stop until they get what they want. That makes you valuable. Which makes you a target."
"Because I can feel the ward-magic."
"Because you can do more than feel it. You can manipulate it inways that shouldn't be possible for someone without formal training." He held her gaze. "That makes you dangerous to whoever is behind the sabotage. And it makes you essential to stopping them."
"No pressure, then."
"None whatsoever." His mouth twitched again. "Now, shall we begin? Or would you prefer to trade more verbal barbs first?"
She grinned. "I can multitask."
A knock at the door announced the arrival of the training materials. Servants entered with armfuls of leather-bound texts, practice stones, and rolled charts covered in ward patterns. They set everything on the table silently, then withdrew without meeting his eyes.
She was already reaching for one of the practice stones, turning it over in her hands.
"These are different from the real ward-locks."
"Training versions. Designed with safeguards so you can experiment without catastrophic consequences." He selected the smallest stone from the collection and set it between them. "Before we begin formal instruction, I want to understand exactly how you approached the repair yesterday."
The practice stone glowed faintly, power pulsing within it. She studied it, running her fingers over the carved symbols.
