“Now then, class,” Kedrin’s voice spoke up again. “I apologize for monopolizing your professor, but there was urgent business to be discussed. We’ll give them a few minutes to hash it out. In the meantime, would you mind showing me the progress you’ve made so far? My, Ms. Asimov, those are rather interesting bowls you have there. Do they have a specific purpose?”

Zasia shoved Aldric out of the way and began beating on the office door. “Kedrin, open this door this instant!”

“It’s no use,” Aldric sighed as he returned to his desk. He turned his chair around to place his elbows on the backrest, his chin in his hands. “He just put a mana lock on the door. Knowing him, he also put a muting talisman on it so they won’t hear us.”

Zasia ignored him, pounding on the door for almost a minute longer before it became obvious no one could hear her. With a huff, she marched back to her chair and sat down, crossing her arms and glaring daggers at everything in the room that wasn’t him.

“I swear, when I get out of here, whenever that is, there will be a strongly worded letter of resignation waiting for him on his desk!” She took out a nail file and started furiously buffing her already perfect nails, refusing to look at him.

“He’s probably going to keep us in here until we make up,” Aldric said, realizing a little late that those words might not calm her. They didn’t.

She stopped her manicure long enough to shoot him a glare so fierce that he was surprised it didn’t strike him dead. “Fat chance of that. You made yourself thoroughly clear on where we stand. Per your wishes, I have nothing to do with you any longer!”

She continued to glare at him while he said nothing, just stared back. The silence hung uncomfortably for what felt like ages, and Aldric hoped she didn’t notice how his brow was tingling with sweat under her gaze. Then she resumed her nail care, once again ignoring him.

Aldric was racking his brain for the right way to approach this. Kedrin had effectively locked him in a room with a wild, pissed off animal and asked him to make friends with it. Ideas and arguments came to him and were just as quickly discarded. He caught sight of the staff case next to Zasia’s chair, and realized he knew the answer. He knew what Miraea would tell him to do.

“Zasia, I’m sorry.”

Blunt, simple honesty was the only thing he had, and he tried to infuse the words with as much sincerity as he could muster. He noticed Zasia’s buffing slowed for just a moment at his words, and she looked up at him with a measuring stare before looking down and resuming again.