“Your dedication is commendable,” I say. “Your judgment less so.”
She looks up, surprised. “Was that…a compliment?”
“It was an observation.”
She grins. “Close enough.”
I turn away, reaching for her datapad. The file is still open, the simulation halfway through an error loop. I scroll through it, noting that she’s corrected most of her earlier miscalculations. It’s good work—raw, ambitious, inelegant, but good.
“These translation tables,” I murmur. “Where did you get them?”
“I asked for help,” she replies. “Between me and my friends at the university, we speak about…I don't know, ten different languages? I'm trying to get a sense for the subtleties of emotional delivery so I can actually parse the differences between words in context. There's an art to it; it's not just engineering.”
“Art is simply pattern we haven’t formalized yet.” I set the datapad down between us, then I wrinkle my nose. “You reek of alcohol.”
The light in her eyes flickers. I…dislike that. “It helps me think.”
“I find that difficult to believe.”
“It helps me not lose my mind…?”
I let a smirk slip. “Nowthat,I believe.” Then the smile drops. “But if I catch you hungover in my lab again, I'm revoking your access card for a week.”
Her jaw drops open, then shuts again. “I'm…but?—”
I don't catch the end of her sentence; I turn and walk back to my office, shutting the door behind me. I watch through the glass as Lyn takes a couple steps like she'll try to catch me, then I see her think better of it and go back to her work instead. She has a scant few hours before the committee arrives for her evaluation; she needs to make it count.
And I have something I must do.
I sit down at my terminal and open a comm channel, already dreading the conversation I'm about to have. Negotiations over parenting duties have never been easy with Shahar—not whenshe's found her mate in the years since we bred—but they're especially difficult now with her upcoming Elixir bonding. Her mate, Wulfric, is Skoll…and the Skoll are, despite their many good qualities, exceptionally territorial.
Even when it comes tomy daughter, who Wulfric is intent on treating as his own.
I route the call through the university relay. Shahar answers on the second pulse, the green light of her lab in the Arborium lighting her soft turquoise complexion. Sheisbeautiful, objectively speaking—but not for me. Our coupling was purely for the benefit of our species.
“Kaelion,” she says with a polite smile. “You’re early.”
“I have an evaluation this morning,” I say. “I need to confirm Solvi’s schedule. You and Wulfric will arrive by train tomorrow morning, correct?”
Shahar’s eyes soften. “She’s already packed and ready to go. She wants you to take her back to the wing with the human picture books.”
A smile curves my lips.Comics…Solvi loves them. We spent many long hours in that wing of the Grand Library last summer, and Solvi left Mythara with a sketchbook full of her own panels. “Make sure she packs her sketchbook,” I murmur. “I would like to see what she's been working on.”
Shahar smiles. “She hasn’t stopped drawing since you left. You’ve created a monster, Kaelion.”
“I prefer to think of her as an artist,” I say.
Her smile doesn't last long, even as we bond over our child's budding talents. No…the subject must, of course, change. “Wulfric’s still nervous about the trip. He worries about her being unattended in Mythara or at the library?—”
“Wulfric worries about breathing too hard,” I reply.
Her brow furrows. “He’s just protective. She’s his only child?—”
“She’smydaughter,” I remind her, an edge creeping into my voice. “And I will continue to see her during my allotted time.”
“Of course.” Her tone is level, but short—if you know what to look for. “No one’s questioning that.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Shahar?—”
