"If that's how you want to play it," she thought, the words biting even in her own mind, "then we'll see."
Because she would be responsible for him.
That was the reality. Like it or not, the academy's new quota structure had placed all commoner scholarship students under her jurisdiction—her direct oversight. That was the agreement. The price of the reforms. The compromise struck behind gold-veined doors in council chambers full of inherited names and empty sympathy.
Lucavion was under her.
Officially.
Strategically.
And unfortunately.
But if he thought that meant she'd let him coast forward wrapped in mystery and deflection—thought he could glide past scrutiny just because he was clever and calm—he was mistaken.
Since you're begging for it, she thought with a narrowing of her eyes, I'll give it to you.
She moved to her filing shelf, pulled out a narrow crystal slate, and activated the internal tracking ledger tied to student assignments and performance logs.
