ㅤ
The shopkeeper wrapped two eggs in paper and set them on the counter.
ㅤ
“Anything else?”
ㅤ
“Cheese,” the girl said.
ㅤ
“A little cheese,” I added, watching the knife pass through a block that looked expensive enough to require a scholarship. I tried to calculate the cost before the shopkeeper reached for her scale.
ㅤ
“Your little sister knows what she wants.”
ㅤ
I opened my mouth, but the girl caught my hand first.
ㅤ
“Daddy promised.”
ㅤ
The knife stopped. The shopkeeper looked from her to me, and I could practically hear the question forming. I paid while it was still only a question.
ㅤ
Outside, the girl glanced up. “Did I forget again?”
ㅤ
“You did.”
ㅤ
“Sorry.” Her fingers tightened around mine.
ㅤ
I slowed to match her steps. “You don't have to apologize for calling me Daddy. Just remember that other people don't know about us yet.”
ㅤ
She nodded, then peered anxiously into the bag. “Are the eggs safe?”
ㅤ
“Safer than they were a moment ago.”
ㅤ
She tucked Sir Flopsy against her chest and walked with exaggerated care all the way to the guesthouse.
ㅤ
***
ㅤ
ㅤ
I knew how to cook eggs. I had not anticipated being judged against the breakfast habits of my future self.
ㅤ
The girl stood on a chair well away from the stove, supervising while I worked.
ㅤ
“Not too hot.”
ㅤ
“I've lowered it.”
ㅤ
“Mommy likes them soft. And you put the cheese in before they're finished.”
ㅤ
I added the cheese. She watched the pan with the concentration of an examiner.
ㅤ
“Yours are usually round.”
ㅤ
I looked down. “They started round.”
ㅤ
“Like a little sun.”
ㅤ
“That sounds like a different recipe.”
ㅤ
She considered the finished eggs, tasted a piece, and smiled. “It's almost right.”
ㅤ
“Almost?”
ㅤ
“You need more practice.”
ㅤ
She ate every bite. I accepted the verdict.
ㅤ
***
ㅤ
ㅤ
Marcus arrived while I was washing the pan, carrying a wooden box beneath his arm.
ㅤ
“Morning,” he said.
ㅤ
“What's that?”
ㅤ
“Not for you.”
ㅤ
The girl ran in from the bedroom. “Uncle Marcus!”
ㅤ
He crouched and lifted the lid. Colored pencils lay in neat rows, arranged by shade. She stared for a moment, then looked at him as though she needed permission to believe it.
ㅤ
“For me?”
ㅤ
“For you.”
ㅤ
She hugged him hard enough that he had to brace the box against his knee.
ㅤ
Once she was occupied at the table, I drew him aside. “You didn't need to buy those. They're not cheap.”
ㅤ
“I know. Neither is this guesthouse.” His tone was gentle, but it stopped my argument before it began. “Let me give her something.”
ㅤ
She was already sorting the pencils into groups of her own invention. Holding up a red one, she asked, “Uncle Marcus, can you draw hands?”
ㅤ
“Badly.”
ㅤ
“That's okay. Daddy does too.”
ㅤ
Marcus's grin followed me out of the room.
ㅤ
***
ㅤ
ㅤ
Bellamy's office was on the ground floor of the student residence. Her window, usually open even in cold weather, was shut today. She looked up from a register when I knocked.
ㅤ
“Adrian. Come in.”
ㅤ
I sat opposite her desk. Beside the window stood a framed photograph of three children and a younger Bellamy.
ㅤ
“My grandchildren,” she said, following my glance. “They'd just been allowed cake before lunch.”
ㅤ
“They look pleased with the arrangement.”
ㅤ
“Wouldn't you?” She closed the register. “I confirmed your room at the guest residence. The child is staying with you?”
ㅤ
“Yes, Professor.”
ㅤ
“What have you arranged for her during classes?”
ㅤ
I explained that Marcus was helping temporarily and that the guesthouse manager knew a local caretaker. I still had to meet her and discuss hours.
ㅤ
“Your friend cannot miss his own studies indefinitely.”
ㅤ
“He won't. I'll speak to the caretaker today.”
ㅤ
“And the child's guardian?”
ㅤ
I folded my hands. “I'm responsible for her at present.”
ㅤ
“That wasn't my question.”
ㅤ
“No, Professor.”
ㅤ
She waited. I wished I had an answer that didn't involve future-dated coins, temporal magic, and a duke's daughter who had barely spoken to me before yesterday.
ㅤ
“Her circumstances are unusual,” I said. “I know that isn't enough information. But she has food, a room, and someone with her while I'm in class. I won't leave her alone.”
ㅤ
Bellamy's expression didn't soften, but she listened.
ㅤ
“A child needs more than somewhere to sleep, Adrian. You need a plan for the days your friends aren't available.”
ㅤ
She was right. I'd been planning one week at a time because that was as far as my money stretched. That didn't make a week a sufficient plan for her.
ㅤ
“I'll arrange a meeting today and bring you confirmation once it's settled.”
ㅤ
“Do that.”
ㅤ
At the door, I stopped. “Thank you for not making this more difficult.”
ㅤ
She looked over the register. “Don't give me a reason to reconsider.”
ㅤ
***
ㅤ
ㅤ
Halden was waiting in the practice chamber with a new exercise sheet. I compared it with the results Evelyn and I had recorded yesterday.
ㅤ
“You've added a second spell.”
ㅤ
“That is the objective.”
ㅤ
“Her barrier only stabilized under the earlier configuration. Could we repeat the final setup first? We changed reinforcement timing and distribution together. I'd like to know whether the result holds before we introduce another variable.”
ㅤ
Halden took back the sheet. “Why?”
ㅤ
“If it fails today, we should know whether the second spell caused it or whether yesterday's improvement was inconsistent.”
ㅤ
He crossed out the first instruction. “Three baseline attempts. Record mana expenditure and duration.”
ㅤ
“Understood.”
ㅤ
“And Adrian? If the measurements contradict my expectations, write down the measurements.”
ㅤ
That was an instruction I could work with.
ㅤ
***
ㅤ
ㅤ
Evelyn arrived carrying the notebook from our first session.
ㅤ
“Good morning, Adrian.”
ㅤ
“Good morning, Lady Rosenfeld.”
ㅤ
She read the amended sheet. “We're repeating yesterday's configuration?”
ㅤ
“Three times before the second spell.”
ㅤ
“Good. I reviewed the discrepancy between our fourth and fifth attempts. The measuring crystal may have registered some reinforcement as offensive expenditure.”
ㅤ
“It's possible. I replaced it this morning.”
ㅤ
She entered the containment circle. I activated the station.
ㅤ
Her first barrier lasted eighteen seconds, the next nineteen, and the third twenty-one before she released it voluntarily. I checked the figures twice.
ㅤ
“The earlier reinforcement is helping.”
ㅤ
“Not enough for the full exercise,” she said, coming to the table.
ㅤ
“No. But now we know what to keep.”
ㅤ
She examined the readings herself. Her notebook held ruler-straight diagrams and labels for every point of possible interference. Mine looked as though I'd recorded the experiment during an earthquake.
ㅤ
“Your handwriting is difficult to read,” she observed.
ㅤ
“Marcus has been telling me that for years.”
ㅤ
“Has it helped?”
ㅤ
“Not noticeably.”
ㅤ
She turned her notebook toward me. “Use this diagram for the next set.”
ㅤ
She'd marked a section of the barrier I hadn't considered measuring separately.
ㅤ
“That should help.”
ㅤ
“It may,” she corrected, and I found myself smiling as I copied the labels.
ㅤ
***
ㅤ
ㅤ
The second spell changed the exercise considerably. Evelyn's first attempt failed almost at once. On the next, she held the barrier long enough to gather fire mana, but it collapsed before the spell was complete.
ㅤ
“Again,” she said.
ㅤ
“Let me record that one first.”
ㅤ
She waited beside the empty circle. By the fourth attempt, her mana expenditure was climbing without any improvement in duration.
ㅤ
“We should take a break.”
ㅤ
“I'm not exhausted.”
ㅤ
“I didn't say you were. The last two readings are less consistent. I want to compare them before we continue.”
ㅤ
Her gaze moved to the crystals, then back to me. “Five minutes.”
ㅤ
“Five minutes.”
ㅤ
We spread the reports across the bench. Evelyn found the problem in the third attempt: the offensive spell had drawn mana from a reinforced section, leaving the outer layer weaker than the total expenditure suggested.
ㅤ
“If I redirect the channel earlier, the barrier may hold,” she said, tracing the diagram.
ㅤ
“Or fail somewhere else.”
ㅤ
“Then we'll measure that.”
ㅤ
I couldn't argue.
ㅤ
By the end of the session, she had maintained both spells for eleven seconds. Her mouth tightened when I read the number aloud.
ㅤ
“It's progress,” I said.
ㅤ
“The offensive spell wasn't complete.”
ㅤ
“No. Yesterday you couldn't keep the barrier active long enough to prepare it. Today you held both.”
ㅤ
She checked the figures again. “Tomorrow we should reduce mana consumption during preparation, not the final output.”
ㅤ
“That would give us a cleaner test.”
ㅤ
At the door, she paused. “Why did you ask Halden to repeat yesterday's exercise?”
ㅤ
“I wanted to know whether the improvement would hold. If we don't understand why something works, we won't know what to change when it stops.”
ㅤ
She considered me for a moment. “A sensible answer.”
ㅤ
After she left, I wrote the report more carefully. I had no desire to ask Halden to decipher my handwriting tomorrow.
ㅤ
***
ㅤ
ㅤ
On the way upstairs, I found Mrs. Alder, the guesthouse manager. She remembered our conversation and gave me the address of Mrs. Fenwick, a retired seamstress two streets away who watched children for academy families.
ㅤ
“You'll need to discuss hours with her,” Mrs. Alder said.
ㅤ
“Is she expensive?”
ㅤ
“Reasonable.”
ㅤ
I was beginning to dislike that word.
ㅤ
I arranged to visit the following afternoon. Our room was paid for through the week, and I had assistantship work now, but childcare would be another expense. It would also mean the girl wouldn't have to rely on Marcus being free.
ㅤ
Laughter came through our door. I knocked before entering.
ㅤ
Marcus sat at the table with pencil marks along his hand. The girl bent over a sheet of paper, shielding it from view.
ㅤ
“How was work?” he asked.
ㅤ
“Eleven seconds with both spells active.”
ㅤ
“Sounds good. Did Lady Rosenfeld agree?”
ㅤ
“Not quite.”
ㅤ
He smiled as if I'd answered something else.
ㅤ
“One more bit,” the girl said. She pressed a pencil to the page, then lifted it triumphantly. “Finished!”
ㅤ
Three people stood before a house. The smallest held a rabbit with one extraordinarily long ear. The woman had silver hair; the man had dark hair. A garden occupied nearly half the paper.
ㅤ
She'd drawn a house before, but this time a word stood above it. Marcus had evidently helped keep the uneven letters on one line.
ㅤ
Rosenfeld.
ㅤ
I read it again. “Sweetheart, what's that?”
ㅤ
“Our family name.”
ㅤ
I pulled out the chair beside her. “Is that your surname?”
ㅤ
She nodded.
ㅤ
“Mommy's too?”
ㅤ
“Yes.”
ㅤ
Marcus had gone quiet. I'd spent the afternoon working beside Lady Rosenfeld; seeing her name over a child's drawing of our home made my stomach turn in a way I couldn't quite name.
ㅤ
“Do I use that name?” I asked.
ㅤ
She thought about it. “Sometimes. When people come to the house.”
ㅤ
I had a dozen questions, but she was already holding up the page. “Can we put it on the wall?”
ㅤ
“Of course.”
ㅤ
Marcus found removable adhesive. I helped her fasten the drawing above the table, careful not to crease it.
ㅤ
“It's crooked.”
ㅤ
“A little.” I adjusted the corner.
ㅤ
“There.” She stepped back, satisfied.
ㅤ
***
ㅤ
ㅤ
Marcus left before dinner, promising to return after morning training. He reminded me to eat something besides bread. The girl drew more flowers while I reviewed Veyr's fourth chapter, copying one of Marcus's diagrams beside Evelyn's notes. Together they clarified the layered barrier Halden wanted me to test next week.
ㅤ
Later, I helped her wash and tucked her into bed with Sir Flopsy.
ㅤ
“Daddy?”
ㅤ
“Yes?”
ㅤ
“Tomorrow, can you make the eggs round?”
ㅤ
“I'll have to work out how.”
ㅤ
“I can show you.”
ㅤ
“You've been saying that.”
ㅤ
She grinned and drew the blanket up. I stayed until her breathing settled.
ㅤ
At the table, I looked again at the drawing. Six windows. An enormous sun. A garden large enough to feed half the academy. The rabbit had an extra leg. Above it all, the name was written so carefully I could see where she'd pressed hard enough to nearly break the pencil.
ㅤ
Rosenfeld.
ㅤ
I'd wanted a house with a garden long before she arrived. Now, for the first time, I had an idea of who might live there with me.