“Good,” said Ferla. “I’ve asked Gorga to share it with me.”

A screw tightened in Lovisa’s throat. Her professor, Gorga Balava, was a forgiving grader, whereas Ferla had an eye for reading Lovisa’s work and detecting exactly where she’d been lazy. She’d written a section of the paper just this morning, and maybe it had been too easy. She’d have to take a closer look.

“Say hello to the boys for me,” said Lovisa as her parents moved toward the door.

“Come home for dinner and say hello to them yourself,” said Ferla, speaking with the kind of friendly challenge she accorded to her students and her colleagues, and her daughter when they were in public. This was why Lovisa always came to class early. She wanted the sense of belonging bestowed by her public mother.

Ferla and Benni left the room together. Then Gorga Balava pushed through the door, a small man with a ring of graying hair, a bonded fox of his own at his heels. Lovisa didn’t like anyone’s fox, because all foxes snuck and hid and she hated not knowing if a conversation was happening right in front of her that she couldn’t hear. But Gorga’s fox was less annoying than the others, because their relationship seemed based less on secret communication and more on the professor’s indulgence. For example, this morning his fox was prancing around in little fur booties, sparkling with gems. Ridiculous.

“Nice to see you, Lovisa,” said Gorga.

“You too, Professor Balava.”

“Was that a union of rivals I saw leaving just now?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“I don’t suppose you overheard any of their conversation?”

“No, sir.”

“I don’t suppose you’d tell me if you had?” said Gorga, with a flash of a smile that contained warmth, a kind of teasing. Almost every teacher in the academy’s school of politics and government also worked in the Keepish government in some capacity, large or small, and Gorga was no exception. He was an elected representative of Parliament, like Benni. An Industrialist, also like Benni. And everyone in government, regardless of their party, was nosy.

“I saw them exchange meaningful glances,” Lovisa said, making a joke of it, but remembering the look that had passed between her parents. Her mother’s face had contained a question, and her father’s, an answer, one that had caused Ferla to light up with curiosity. Lovisa was adept at reading silent conversations. Maybe that was why foxes made her so irritable. Their conversations with their humans were uninterpretable.

“Are you ready to talk about the upcoming zilfium vote?” asked Gorga.

Lovisa sighed. “I knew there was some reason I didn’t bother to do the reading.”

“I don’t believe you didn’t do the reading, Lovisa.”