Dean's face softened at once.
"Sylvia."
"I mean it. Not as your secretary. I think Minerva was right to take that away before it became something I could not carry properly. But maybe one day I will understand enough to help without walking into traps wearing a cheerful smile and comfortable shoes."
Dean looked at her for a long second.
Then he said, very gently, "I do not have you as my best friend because you are useful."
Sylvia went still.
Dean's voice remained light, but the words were not. "If I want usefulness, I can hire a capable professional. Several, probably. With terrifying credentials and a complete inability to make me laugh."
Sylvia swallowed.
She then smiled, because smiling was easier than letting her eyes sting in Dean's very expensive sitting room.
"You should do that for the secretary position."
"I intend to."
"Good. Hire someone painfully competent."
"I will."
"Someone who understands intelligence risk, state documents, and palace politics."
"Yes."
