“It was an accident, Sa’han,” Kal said, using the elven honorific, as he clearly didn’t know the man’s name.
“Accident?” the man echoed. “You’re both too old for this. What happened?”
Trisk said nothing. They’d never believe she hadn’t broken the room-wide charm. She’d been the butt of too many jokes, taking the blame for all of them because to do otherwise would only increase the torment. She had a rep, even if none of it was true.
“Felecia?” the man said, and she started, wondering how he knew her name.
“I, ah, punched him, Sa’han,” she admitted. “I didn’t tap a ley line until he did.”
“And yet the result is the same.” The man regretfully turned to Kal. “Your temper is still getting the better of you, eh, Trenton?”
“She has no right to be here, Sa’han,” Kal said haughtily. “There are only three offers on her table. The center is for the best, not slag.”
Trisk’s eyes narrowed, but he was only saying what they were all thinking. Behind her, she could feel Quen’s slow anger building, but it was too late. His contract was binding.
But the man only handed Kal a spell with which to clean his face. “And your tongue still doesn’t check in with your brain before waggling,” he said as Kal used the very blood from his broken nose to invoke the charm, and, in a wash of aura-tainted magic, his face was clean. “You think she copied her way to her grade average?” the man said, and Kal’s face flashed red. “You are drastically lacking in the art of stealth and misdirection. Your emotions and wants are as clear as a child’s. Learn what you lack or forever be the shadow of potential that you are today.”
Trisk felt herself pale as he turned to her. He could see right through her, all her grand hopes looking like a child’s pretend. “And you need to find out who you are before you bring your house any more shame,” he said, his rebuke hitting her hard.
Her chest hurt, and she dropped her head. In the near distance, the loud voices of Kal’s parents became obvious as they tried to force their way through the circle of people.
The enclave member sighed, gathering himself. “Kal? Trisk? As neither of you has signed with anyone, you’re allowed to remain on the floor, but you’re confined to your tables. Quen, you have your placement. Go wait in your room.”
Trisk snapped her head up, suddenly frightened. Quen would go through hell now, as Kal would blame him for everything she’d done. “Quen, I’m sorry,” she blurted.
Quen’s mood softened, and he managed a smile. “Me too,” he said. “Don’t worry about it,” he added as he gave her shoulder a squeeze, but what she wanted was for him to take her in his arms and tell her nothing would change between them. “I’ve dealt with worse. I’m proud of you, Trisk. You’re going to do well. I know it.”
He was slipping away from her, and she could do nothing. “Quen . . .”
He looked back once, and then he was gone, the colorful dresses hiding him as the band started up again. The enclave dignitary had vanished as well, and people began to disperse.
Trisk’s eyes rose to find Kal standing with his parents. His father was trying to straighten Kal’s swollen nose, and his mother was attempting to distract the NASA representative from the shattered remains of the hall’s protection.
No one was venturing across the pile of crystal, and Trisk winced when her father’s tall form stumbled to a halt at the fringes, hesitating briefly as he found her eyes and then turned to make his way around it. “The Goddess protect me,” she whispered, nudging a stray crystal out of her way and collapsing in her interview chair. There was no way to make this look good.
“Trisk? Tell me this wasn’t you,” her father said as he worked his way into her booth.
A surge of self-pity rose, and she blinked fast, refusing to cry. “Quen signed with the Kalamacks,” she said, voice cracking.
Her father’s breath came in, but then he exhaled with a knowing, forgiving sound, the shattered chandelier and rising argument at the Kalamack booth suddenly making sense. “I’m sorry,” he said, his hand warm on her shoulder. “I’m sure he knows what he’s doing.”
His quick understanding made her feel worse. “I wish he’d know what he’s doing with me.”
Her father dropped to a knee before her and took her into a hug. Her throat closed, and it was as if she were twelve again as he tried to show her all was not lost, that something good would come from it. “Have you made a choice?” he asked gently.
She knew he wanted her to take a position and move forward, but accepting anything other than what she’d worked for felt like failure. His arms still around her, she shook her head.
Slowly his grip fell away. He stood, silent as a special crew began to sweep the crystal into shipping boxes for off-site decontamination. “I’ll get us some coffee,” he finally said. “You’ll be okay for a moment?”
She nodded, knowing it wasn’t coffee he was after, but the chance there might be someone who owed him a favor. Her breath rattled as she exhaled. There were no more favors to be had. He had spent them all getting her this far. She could probably be excused for the effrontery of trying to make it in a man’s field if she looked like their ideal, her efforts excused by her probable goal of finding a better husband. But she didn’t even have that.