Page 152 of Ulune's Daughter

“You’ll come. You’ll bring whoever has improved your wardrobe. You’ll introduce us. You’ll be polite about my support of your discovery. You’ll be complimentary about our former relationship.”

I begin doodling on his invitation with the point of my knife, drawing the runedheuka.

“They already know about you. Politeness would be wasted at this point.” Wisps of vapor spiral up from the paper, gathering in a tiny cloud above the knife’s hilt. As I continue to move the knife, the cloud darkens and begins to revolve.

“Politeness is never wasted,” Rowan says, his tone sharp. Once that tone would have had me on my knees. Now, it just rolls off my feathers. I mean, my back. “Nor is professional courtesy,” he continues. “You’ll have your TA turn over the complete set of inscriptions and all of your translation notes to my team. We’ll finish the translations and you’ll give us credit.”

I lift the point of my knife and flick my claw at the tiny vortex. A finger of lightning stabs down and crisps the invitation card to ash. With another flick, I scatter the ashes off my desk. They flutter around Rowan’s knee.

“No, Rowan, I won’t. Luca should be publishing our first paper on the Proto-Turkic antecedents pretty much as we speak. You can, of course, publish any complementary, or even critical, analysis you want. But I think we both know you’re out of your depth here. I wasn’t insulting you by excluding you from the translation team. I was respecting your strengths and weaknesses. I’m not the one making you look foolish. You are doing that all on your own.”

He huffs dismissively. “Madavar has the finest minds in the magickal world. This tiny team you have? It’s as shallow as a puddle. The runes are outside my specialty? They’re also outside ofyours. You’re not a linguist. You’re not an archeologist. You’re not an academic. You’re a digger, Kellan. You’re hired help. You got lucky when there was no one of sufficient reputation around to supervise you, but that won’t happen again. I’m here to rectify that. And to make sure the true academic talent on your team receives appropriate recognition and mentorship.”

Luca. He’s talking about Luca. Who is a true academic talent, no question. Even if he wasn’t, Rowan would rather mentor a man than me. Someone withtrueacademic potential. And maybe he’s right about me. I’ve always been more comfortable in the field than behind a desk. I’m not a real linguist. I’m good enough with runes to do rudimentary field translations, but the runes don’t sing for me the way they do for Luca. I had to get Teddy to enchant a universal translator for me because I don’t speak any language other than English fluently. I know a little about a lot. The opposite of today’s academics who know a lot about a little.

“I’m sure Luca will appreciate that. You can discuss it with him directly. I’m not his gatekeeper.”

“You think I haven’t approached him already?” Rowan asks, shaking his head in disappointment. “His loyalty is admirable but fruitless. Your whole team will report to me. That invitation you just burned? My welcome reception. Visiting professor of magickal archeology.”

“Bevington hired you?”

And no one bothered to tell me? Half of Bevington’s faculty knows how Rowan shafted me. Including Dean Quinn. She thought I’d be okay working with him?

“Ivolunteeredmy time and expertise. You know I don’t need the money.”

I swallow my disgust. It’s so easy for him; everything’s always so easy for him. “Welcome to Bevington. I’m sure you’ll find the faculty very accepting.”

Probably not so much Bevvy’s students. They don’t have to play academic politics. And students hate Rowan. They apply to do their post-docs with him and there’s always a long line of potential TAs, because Rowan’s department is so well-funded. But the shit they sling about him behind his back? Not pretty.

“Thank you.” Rowan smiles again. “So, let’s try this again. As your supervisor, I’m telling you to have your TA turn over the complete set of inscriptions and all of your translation notes to my team. We’ll finish the translation work. We’ll take credit for all future publications. If your TA plays ball, he’ll get notational credit. As will you.”

A few things click together. He’s making a power play because hedoesn’thave the complete inscriptions and translation notes. He approached Luca and Luca did what? Showed loyalty. Refused to play ball. Oh, Luca, you diamond.

Rowan keeps saying I report to him—but I don’t have a direct supervisor other than Freya in the museum. My title’s still up in the air because my work spans so many departments. If I report to anyone, it’s Jane because I’m teaching Necromancy in the spring, but that’s three months away. She hasn’t even been consulted on my tenure application which is being overseen directly by Dean Quinn.

Laughter tickles up out of my chest.

Rowan turns a dark, furious shade of red.

I smile at him. “Rowan, it’s been great to catch up. I hope you enjoy Winter Study and the coming academic semester. I’m teaching several classes along with my continuing work on the Magi of the Mists and Sulis Minerva’s chalice so I’m really too busy for these pointless little chats.” I rise and walk to the door, opening it. Luca’s standing on the other side, his cheeks flaming, eyes wet and glittering with rage. I gesture him into my office. “Luca, please bear with me for a moment. Professor Wright’s just leaving. He’s been paying you the biggest compliments. You’ll be so pleased to hear how highly Professor Wright thinks of your skills as a linguist.”

Luca blinks. A little of the hectic color leaves his face and his shoulders drop an inch. “That’s very ... nice of him.”

“It is, isn’t it?” I turn back to Rowan and gesture to the hallway. “It’s a busy day for me and Luca with the first of our translation papers going live and finals coming up. I’m sure you understand, Professor Wright?”

Frowning furiously, Rowan rises and brushes down his suit jacket. “Three thousand miles away and you somehow always carry the dirt of the dig with you, Professor Wyndham. I’ll never understand it.”

“It’s easy,” I say. “I’ve never been afraid of getting my hands dirty. Enjoy the rest of your day, Professor Wright.”

He huffs past me and slams the door in his wake.

I throw myself at Luca and wrap him in a fierce hug. “You absolute gem. I could kiss you, Luca.”

“Uh, yes,” Luca says, his arms closing around me.

“I could, but I’m not going to because that would be inappropriate.” I step back. “But I am so grateful to you. Thank you, Luca.”

“For what? I came to resign.” He holds out a hand, clutching a crumpled letter. His hand shakes.

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