Chapter 60: The Vacation Was Going Beautifully

Dante dressed for the lantern dinner with the confidence of a man whose greatest recent victory had required rented breathing equipment and a friend who could swim properly.

Jett inspected his shirt from the other bed. “You look almost respectable. Want me to tell everyone how you introduced your face to the lake?”

“I trust you to preserve the dignity of our shared history.”

“Then you need better friends,” Jett said, taking his jacket.

They had spent the afternoon studying, with enough time afterward to rest. Dante had corrected the exercise Honey marked, and Jett had finally explained the cooling-flap problem without calling every moving part the spinny thing. Their exams still waited after break. Apparently universities continued expecting work even when their students were conducting major campaigns against leisure activities.

Before going downstairs, Dante checked the claim ticket behind his phone cover. The lodge clerk had confirmed that the sealed ruby remained in the staffed safe. The lease and the outside warning record stayed with it, ready for Professor Bell’s inspection after they returned.

He had useful results, a real loan, and no further tests planned. His council considered this an excellent point to enjoy dinner.

The others met them at the garden doors. Posey wore a light dress over her swimsuit, with her blonde hair tied back in its familiar navy ribbon. Honey’s loose sleeves left her wings free, while Rhae had chosen a skirt with enough room for her tail to move without catching a chair. Anika took Dante’s arm before he could become trapped in the important work of looking at everyone.

Their saved dinner plan began with a table for two near the path, ahead of the group celebration. She had checked the booking herself, then told him that remembering the time remained his job.

Below the garden, the cove shone with floating lanterns. Broad walkways connected the beach to low platforms, each held near shore by anchor lines. Resort workers checked those lines while guests arrived, tightening one side before allowing a full table to board.

Anika pointed out the difference as they passed. “Too much pull on one corner would tilt it. They need the weight spread across the whole thing.”

Dante remembered the observatory screen folding against its rail. He listened through the explanation before suggesting a single improvement, which left him with no improvement to suggest.

Their small table faced the water. Anika talked about the weather measurements she wanted to compare after break, then asked him what he wanted from the next semester besides an increasingly impressive collection of titles.

He considered claiming complete control of his power. Instead, he admitted he wanted to know which parts were actually his.

“I like being good at something,” he said. “I like it considerably less when everyone else understands the price before I do.”

“You could ask before the exciting part,” she replied.

“That advice has an unpleasant amount of evidence behind it.”

She smiled, and the conversation moved to easier things: a professor who kept losing his own practice cloud, Jett’s terrible excuses, and the evening she wanted with Dante after they returned. He saved another plan in his phone, then left it facedown for the rest of their meal.

Anika noticed. Her hand rested over his beside the plates, and he forgot the remaining half of his sentence.

They took the short dry promenade back toward their friends. Between the last food stall and the first platform, she stopped beside the rail and kissed him. Dante answered without trying to turn it into an announcement, though his private council immediately declared the evening a complete diplomatic success.

“Keep doing the part where you listen,” she told him when they moved apart. “It suits you.”

He liked that she wanted him there after the attention and the applause had finished. He liked her hand staying in his even more.

The group table stood on the nearest platform, with a wide walkway leading directly back to the sand. Mermaid guests sat at water-height benches along the outside edge, passing plates up to their friends. Water pixies guided lanterns between the seats and pulled one aside before its glow blocked a swimmer’s view.

A weather worker held a gentle current over the food stalls, carrying smoke away from the diners. Farther out, two performers faced each other across a floating stage. Each drew a bright line through the water, joining the lines beneath a broad shape that rose from the lake.

The shape spread into a glowing manta ray. Water ran along its flat wings as it curved above the surface, then fell in harmless spray when the performers lowered their hands. The next cast began with two fresh lines, letting Dante see exactly where the movement started.

He was still watching when a server’s tray caught the back of Jett’s chair. Dante steadied it with his ordinary lift, waited until the server had both hands beneath it, and released. Not one dessert fell.

Rhae examined the recovered plate. “Does that one need to kneel before we can eat it?”

“Only if it intends to apply for permanent protection,” Dante said.

Posey laughed and slipped her hand into his beneath the table. Honey stole a bite from his dessert while Rhae described the first small order she would fill after returning. Jett provided an account of the underwater game that included far too much accurate information about Dante’s knees.

Lucan interrupted to say the winning pass had been clever. He explained exactly why it worked, leaving Dante unable to dismiss the compliment without insulting his own achievement. The man remained a remarkably difficult enemy.

For a while, the whole table laughed together. Dante let himself enjoy it. He had wanted people to listen for so long that the sound of them waiting for his next story felt almost as good as magic.

Honey left the platform a few minutes later to answer her phone. She stood beside the lower beach steps, close enough to see their table but beyond the music from the nearest stall.

The message from the director was a voice recording. His hand still shook too badly for him to type easily, he said, and he had decided to ask Dante a question in person.

“I want to hear whether he knew who paid for that demonstration.”

Honey looked up the steps toward the lodge path. The director had reached the top, one hand tight around the railing. He started down slowly, watching the bright table where Dante was still laughing.

She had the length of the promenade to tell Dante the truth before he did.