Enid had barely returned to the front gates of the Nature Tower to start prepping for her public lecture when she spotted Caroline again.

  Caroline was sitting on a bench in the plaza, but this time she didn’t have that hostile, ready-to-pounce look.

  So Enid relaxed and walked over.

  Caroline saw her and stood up right away, meeting her halfway.

  “Professor Inis, do you have a moment, if it’s convenient?”

  That was when Enid noticed the stack in Caroline’s arms, reports and books, a whole load of them.

  Knowing what Caroline was like by now, Enid put on her brightest, most sociable smile and chatted her up.

  “I think I can spare a little time, but you look busy. Are you on your way to the lab? Do you want me to help carry those over?”

  “Drop the act,” Caroline cut in flatly. “I know that’s not your real personality.”

  Enid blinked.

  Caroline kept going, voice sharp and matter-of-fact.

  “I watched you in that meeting. You’re not warm and bubbly. If anything, you looked timid, even cowardly.”

  Then Caroline’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if she were sorting through her own notes.

  “But the students like you. Eleanor especially. That doesn’t fit the idea of some shallow, empty-headed showpiece professor.”

  Caroline’s tone turned more impatient, like she genuinely couldn’t solve the puzzle.

  “Sometimes you’re friendly. Sometimes you shrink back. Sometimes you’re gentle. Sometimes you’re sharp as a knife. So what are you, really?”

  Enid realized her little performance had been seen through.

  She had to admit, Caroline’s instincts were frighteningly good.

  Even if the part where Caroline mistook Enid holding back laughter for fear was, frankly, hilarious.

  Enid felt that ridiculous urge to laugh again and forced it down.

  There was no point pretending harder now, but there was also no point “being herself,” not when she barely remembered what that even looked like anymore.

  Besides, people like the version of you that fits what they want to see, and Enid had learned that trick a long time ago.

  So she tilted her head and smiled, sweet as honey.

  “I’m surprised, Dean Caroline. For someone who can’t stand me, you’ve been paying an awful lot of attention to what’s inside.”

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  She paused just long enough to land the punch.

  “Don’t tell me you like me.”

  It hit dead center.

  Caroline’s face flushed bright red.

  “W what, who, who said I was paying attention to you?” she sputtered. “I’m just concerned about a professor being treated unfairly, that’s all. Don’t flatter yourself!”

  Enid’s smile deepened.

  “Concerned, meaning you care.” She looked delighted. “And you finally admitted I’m a professor. Should I frame this moment?”

  Another clean hit.

  Caroline looked like she’d never met someone this aggravating in her life.

  The brilliant tongue that could lecture to hundreds, or verbally demolish a rival dean, suddenly refused to cooperate.

  She opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again, her face turning the color of a ripe tomato.

  Enid, very unhelpfully, thought that dark blue hair really did make blushing obvious.

  She decided she’d teased Caroline enough for one day.

  Enid had a habit of picking on “older kids,” and somewhere along the line Antonio had learned that habit from her, then aimed it at actual kids instead.

  Enid cleared her throat lightly.

  “Alright. Since you’ve caught me, I won’t keep pretending,” she said. “So tell me, what do you want? I still have to prepare my public lecture topic, I’m busy.”

  Caroline’s posture snapped straighter, like she’d been waiting for this line.

  “That’s why I’m here,” she said, then shoved the stack forward a little. “These are for you.”

  Enid stared.

  “Huh?”

  Caroline explained, stiff and brisk, that the materials were everything she’d used back when she’d been under heavy scrutiny herself, when she’d had to prove her qualifications in a public evaluation lecture.

  Enid looked at the pile in Caroline’s arms, impressed by the sheer amount of work, and she also thought she understood.

  Caroline probably saw a familiar reflection in “Professor Inis,” someone being doubted, gossiped about, pushed out before she even had a chance to stand properly on the stage.

  Caroline knew what it felt like, when people treated your knowledge and magic like something suspicious, something to envy, something to hate.

  For a teacher, it was a disaster.

  So she’d done something about it.

  She’d handed over work that had cost her days and nights.

  Of course she wasn’t about to admit it was sympathy.

  “Don’t think I’m doing this because I’m worried about you,” Caroline said quickly. “I just don’t want you bombing because you didn’t have time to prepare properly.”

  She added, eyes sliding away, voice suddenly sharper.

  “And I want to see that old bastard from the Magic Faculty get humbled. That’s all.”

  It was a lie, and Enid knew it.

  But a kindness was a kindness, and Enid had no reason to respond with anything but grace.

  “This helps me a lot,” Enid said, genuinely. “It’s thorough, and the timing couldn’t be better. Thank you, Dean Caroline.”

  She softened a little.

  “And I should apologize too. I assumed you came to give me trouble again.”

  “Why would you think that,” Caroline muttered, then waved a hand like she was brushing the topic away. “Anyway, these are mostly about hexcraft. You teach natural magic, so at best they’re reference material.”

  She looked back up, stubbornly composed again.

  “Still, do your best.”

  “I will,” Enid said. “I won’t waste what you’ve given me. Thank you, truly.”

  “I never said I expected anything,” Caroline snapped, instantly flustered again. “And I didn’t come here to collect thanks. I’m leaving.”

  She dropped the rest of the stack into Enid’s arms and marched off.

  Enid watched her go.

  Centuries of watching humans told Enid exactly what was swirling inside Caroline right now, embarrassment, confusion, a hint of regret, and an overwhelming amount of happiness.

  So Caroline’s label in Enid’s head quietly changed.

  Not “sharp-tongued prodigy” anymore, but “brilliant softie who pretends not to care,” and she was almost comically easy to read.

  Enid also had to admit, the materials really were a lifesaver.

  That same night, she locked in her topic and the structure of her lecture, so cleanly that she didn’t even need the free day she’d set aside.

  So she decided to use that day to rest properly, and save her energy for the public lecture on the following day.