"I must go," Minerva had said. "But first - take this."

And now Butler was in his quarters, holding a note and a novel. Its cover was typical of a romance. He chuckled. These books - so safe, so predictable, so unlike life with Artemis - were all the fiction he read before Minerva showed him "real literature". Probation, perhaps?

Read the dedication first, said the note. Butler complied: "For the one humble enough to be both teacher and student." No, that meant nothing to him. He frowned, closed the book, inspected the spine...

“Footloose” by Eloise Arnott.

Butler couldn't suppress the smile.