“It’s drivel! Who cares about the ties between two communities no one has ever heard of? Do you really think you are the first person to unearth this great find? Of course not! But others had the good sense to see it was meaningless. Meaningless.”

“I–I didn’t realize.” Tears burned behind her eyes, and Analise struggled not to weep. I’m too inexperienced, she thought desperately. I have nowhere else to go. “My folktales professor—”

“Is a moron!” Nathan finished. “We have a waiting list, Analise. A very long one. While your story is tragic, there are others who are willing to work hard. I’m sure the courts will find you a nice home until you’re eighteen.”

“Dr. Rhodes—” Her heart pounded, echoed in her ears, and she fought not to cry. He was going to make her leave. “What—what can I do to stay?”

Pleased by the fear, Nathan smiled sympathetically. He had expected her groveling response, had counted on it. He had plans for her. Plans that would keep her close, and keep him on top. As abruptly as the explosion began, it subsided. “I think we have made a grave error with your studies here. You have focused your entire life on one area. It has blinded you.”

She swallowed hard, twice, before she could speak. “Yes. Sir.”

“We can salvage the situation, but you must agree to follow my instructions. Can you do that?”

Hope bloomed inside her, an unfamiliar sensation, and she felt a tremulous smile begin. “Yes. I can do that.”

“Good. Good.” Nathan rose from his chair and stood near the window. He knew the image he cut in the bright morning. Tweed jacket, collar open to reveal the strong line of his throat, the proud angle of his chin. On dust jackets across the country, the ascetic profile of the eminent Dr. Rhodes was knowingly the same each time. The pose caught him as both striking and austere.

Nathan walked over to her and patted her hand. The slender fingers were elegant, lovely actually. She too could have played. Perhaps he’d teach her. Nodding sagely, he twisted the screws. “You don’t have too many friends here, do you, Analise?”

“No, sir. I haven’t had much time.”

He sniffed with disdain. “I doubt you’ve ever even had a boyfriend, like normal girls.”

“No,” she whispered, doubts swirling.

“Yet, you’ve been here for a year now.” He patted her shoulder. “It is to be expected, given your freakish upbringing.”

“Freakish?” She’d called herself a freak a million times, but the taunt from him felt like a blow.

Enjoying himself now, and the glazed look in her eyes, Nathan continued, “Semantically speaking. You have abnormal linguistic skills. You were reared by two intellectually abnormal parents. By any definition, you are a freak.”

When he explained it, it seemed less like an insult. “I–I never thought about it.”