Chapter 89: Mom Didn’t Ask for a Title

Dante met his mother at the gate with his last assessment finished and a loose coat button he hoped she wouldn’t notice.

She noticed before the library appeared beyond the concealment.

"I brought your thread," she said, lifting her bag. "Does the empire not repair buttons?"

"It maintains several urgent priorities."

"It could maintain the sewing kit I packed."

The kit was still in his desk. He admitted this while taking her bag. His mother looked more pleased by the ordinary answer than she would have been by a speech, leaving him briefly unsure what expression to wear.

Her guest pass worked at the same gate where the hidden campus had first opened around them. She stopped as the upper walkways appeared, then stepped aside to let another family through.

Dante waited with her. There was no need to hurry toward the people who knew his name.

Across the lawn, flower sprites pulled at a stubborn bloom while a bee hovered nearby with the patience of a customer watching staff training. His mother’s black hair lifted in the breeze. Her lighter red eyes followed the tiny workers.

He had wanted her to see this world when he first arrived. He still did. The sight didn’t have to prove he had escaped anything for it to be wonderful.

"The pond has better seats," he said.

They arrived as a professor folded a coat over one arm, stepped onto the bank, and changed into a silver fish above the water. A quick flash vanished below the surface. The coat remained neatly on the bench.

His mother stared at the ripples. "Who watches the coat?"

Dante had prepared remarks about magical freedom. A small stone attendant saved him by lifting a numbered token beside the bench.

"Oh, good," Mom said, accepting the arrangement.

They met Jett at the dining hall. He carried the tray to their table and immediately claimed Dante had learned useful things despite retaining most of his original opinions.

"Friendship includes discretion," Dante reminded him.

"Have either of you been doing laundry?" Mom asked.

Jett betrayed the alliance before the first bite.

Dante tried to explain the distinction between sorting clothes and allowing a cloud to do something artistic to them. His mother asked whether that meant yes or no. Jett laughed into his drink, and Dante decided his roommate had become too comfortable around foreign powers.

Posey joined them before her squad commitment, her hair tied with the familiar navy ribbon. She greeted Mom and asked about the drive. Dante pulled a chair beside his before she needed to ask.

She sat as though she expected to be welcome. His mother saw that, then looked at him. His ears warmed in a way no crowd had managed.

Rhae stopped by long enough to describe her drinks order. Dante asked her to explain the different bottle sizes. She talked about costs and returning customers, and his mother asked sensible questions. Neither needed him to translate how impressive the work was.

He enjoyed listening anyway.

Honey found them outside with a photograph of the stubborn flower finally opening. She explained why one good result didn’t settle the whole comparison. Mom listened, then asked about the different supports beneath the stems.

Honey brightened and turned the photograph so she could show her.

Dante had carried a pot. That did not make the flower his achievement. He still felt absurdly proud watching two people he cared about enjoy the same conversation.

Their walk took them through the residence common room. Lucan worked at the open study table, making space for Evan’s supported wrist. Evan thanked him for putting the notes where he could read without reaching through a stack of books.

At the smaller table, Nell waited for Dante’s nod before moving a spare chair out of the aisle.

Mom noticed both things. She waited until they were outside before speaking.

"People trust me here," Dante said first.

"I can see that." She glanced back at the door. "Trust ought to make a chair easier to move, though. Not something people worry about asking for."

He could explain. There were reasons for Nell’s caution, things his mother had not seen, decisions made before this afternoon. A long enough account would give him plenty of places to arrange the blame more attractively.

Instead he remembered eating lunch in a bathroom stall at his old school. He had balanced the food on his knees and prepared a normal answer for her inevitable question about his day.

He had wanted somebody to save him a seat. Now people looked at him before choosing where to sit.

"I like being wanted," he said. "Sometimes I notice that before I notice anything else."

Mom took his arm. "You don’t have to stop liking it. Look at the person too."

He didn’t become somebody different beside her. He still saw places he wanted to change and people who might stand with him. He still believed he could do something extraordinary here.

But she loved him without applying for a position. She could criticize a button and a choice without threatening to leave. That fact made room for a thought he might otherwise have argued away.

Before they reached the parking path, he showed her the photograph with Jett’s Tideball teammates. Damp shoulders crowded around him. Somebody’s wet hair had caught the light. Dante’s smile looked less controlled than he remembered.

"Which one won?" she asked.

"The whole team." He pointed out Jett and explained the pass he hadn’t chased.

"You look happy."

He had been. The picture contained no crown and no proof that anyone feared him. They had simply pulled him into the group because they wanted him there.

He saved it where he could find it easily.

At the gate, Mom hugged him and told him to call before little problems became large, expensive ones. He promised. She gave him the thread, and he watched until she reached her car.

The small spool sat in his pocket all the way back to residence, an unimpressive object he felt oddly reluctant to lose.

Nell waited near the entrance. She held the repayment notice Honey had helped her read. This time she showed it to Dante herself.

"Can you help me find work I’m allowed to do?" she asked. "I don’t want to make things worse."

He read the amount and the dates. Compared with a falling rig or an unknown magical connection, the problem looked small. Compared with Nell’s frightened face, it looked enormous.

He could help. He could make it smaller while someone looked at him with complete hope.

Dante folded the notice carefully, feeling the dangerous pleasure of knowing exactly how to become necessary.