“Tell me, are you as interested in plant biology as she was?”
“Not really, sir, no,” Ayn said.
“Genetics then, like your father?”
Ayn shook her head, biting her lower lip. When was this interview or whatever it was going to end?
“What are your interests then?”
“Animals,” Ayn said, “but not in the same way as my parents would be interested. We have this beastie—”
“Thank you for meeting with me, Ayn,” Father Gheraeld interrupted, holding out a hand. He held her gaze. His eyes were hazel with flecks of green and gold. “It’s good to see her daughter turned out so well.”
Flustered, Ayn took his hand—his skin was cool and dry—and said, “Of course, sir. Thank you.”
“Lettie will take you to your place now,” he said, turning away from her, just as the door opened to show the iron-haired woman standing just on the other side.
Ayn didn’t need to be told, she walked quickly towards Lettie, not understanding what had just happened, but wanting to get away from Father Gheraeld as soon as she could.