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I hadn’t considered that—but really, when my first night here was christened with a bloodied, severed finger, I probably should have realized. And now I feel more than just a little stupid. Could I have put Asili’s life in danger?
“Sorry,” I mutter quietly as a security guard by the carrier holds the door open for me, and another stands on the opposite side, scanning our surroundings. “I’m not used to thinking like this. I’ll be smarter in the future.”
He throws a quick glance my way before gesturing me into the car. “Now you know.”
***
“Uh, Mr. Tzelik,” I mutter, my fingers squeezing tightly around my backpack strap. “You don’t think you can, um, tone it down a little, do you?”
Kyrin ignores me, continuing to glare at every single student who dares to so much as glance our way as we walk through the halls. I watch in dismay as any hope I had of ever making friends here shrivels up into dust.
“Are all these people students?” Asili asks, his head spinning around so quickly it’s making me dizzy.
“Mostly,” I reply. “Some are lecturers and professors, too.”
“Why are there so many rooms?”
“Because there are so many classes.”
“Why are there so many classes?”
“Because there’s a lot to learn.” I turn towards the huge Zvezdi beside us, looking very much like he’s ready to crack some necks. “Mr. Tzelik…is it okay if I call you Kyrin?”
His blue eyes look utterly uncaring as he turns towards me with a shrug.
“What are you learning?” Asili pipes up again.
“Multidisciplinary Information Technology Science and Programming.”
“Oh.” This finally seems to quiet his exuberance down a little while he processes the mouthful. “That sounds boring.”
We round a final corner and head towards two large black double doors marked Lecture Theater 304, and I look back over at Asili’s hulking, black-haired counterpart. “So, don’t take this the wrong way, Kyrin, but why are you here with us today?”
He regards me for a moment before turning forward again as we walk. “Guarding Asili.”
I frown. “But then why not just look after him yourself while I’m in class? I don’t mean to be rude, it just seems like the simpler option.”
“I’m the minister of defense,” he replies in a complete non sequitur.
“That means he’s really busy and has lots of important matters to attend to,” Asili says, as if reading my continued confusion. “Otherwise, he’d always be with me. Isn’t that right, Uncle Kyrin?”
Kyrin smiles a little and ruffles Asili’s hair. This actually amounts to pushing his hat around until it falls over the little boy’s eyes. “Yes.”
Asili grins widely and pushes his hat back up as we step into the lecture hall and round up the stairs. Kyrin seems to give me another quick once over before nudging Asili slightly ahead up the narrow staircase lined with seats.
“This week I’m learning your schedule and habits,” he says bluntly, although not rudely. “Next week, should things go well, there will be a personal security unit assigned to you for all outings. You will be Asili’s sole guardian when my brother or I are not around. Know that you are always being watched.”
I chew on that for a moment as we head into an empty row, while Kyrin remains behind us so that he can death-glare anyone who tries to turn down this section and sit with us.
That probably means that Mr. Tzelik isn’t planning to find Asili another full-time nanny, at least not any time soon, and my brain whirs as I piece together all the implications of this.
Should things go well… Does this mean that I’m being assessed? Is Kyrin going to judge whether or not I’m good enough to look after Asili?
***
“Mr. Tzelik is calling me,” I whisper to Kyrin nearly half an hour later, while he stares stone-faced at the professor at the front of the hall. He turns to look at me over the top of Asili’s head, who’s fallen sleep leaning against his arm and is drooling slightly. “I’m going to pop outside real quick to take this. Stay here. I won’t be long.”
I rush out and duck into a slightly more private corridor and answer as quickly as I can, figuring it must be some sort of emergency since he’s calling me while I’m on campus. “Sir, is everything alright?”
