(Lysara POV)

  The room sounded different once the last trunk was lifted free.

  It wasn’t quiet exactly. Just… wider. Air moved where it hadn’t before. Light reached the far wall without stopping short. The space felt sober, stripped of excess, like a surface wiped clean and left to dry.

  Then she was gone, steps brisk, efficient, already moving on to whatever came next.

  Rowana hovered in the doorway after her, half in, half out, arms wrapped around herself in a way that tried to look casual and didn’t quite manage it.

  “I mean,” she said, bright, a little breathless, “a single room is kind of incredible. I won’t have to negotiate light or noise or—” She stopped, then smiled again, softer this time. “But it’s still weird.”

  She stepped back in long enough to squeeze Tessa’s arm, then glanced at Lysara. “We’ll still meet. Meals, study breaks. You’re not getting rid of me just because our courses split.”

  “I know,” Lysara said. She paused, feeling the weight of the word before letting it go. “We’ll figure it out.”

  Silence settled properly this time.

  Lysara stood where she was and let the room finish changing. The empty space held for a moment, unfamiliar but not unwelcome. It felt cleaner. Easier to breathe in. Like something unnecessary had been removed without asking.

  “Well,” Tessa said, hopping backward toward her bed, “it’s just us poor commoners now.”

  She glanced around the room, then shrugged. “It’ll be quieter without Rowana. But second term will be busy.”

  Tessa shifted one of the remaining beds an inch, then another, testing the balance. “We can move this closer to the wall,” she said. “Give you more light in the morning.”

  They worked without urgency, trading small adjustments back and forth. A shelf cleared. A chair rotated. The room slowly rearranged itself into something that made sense again.

  Tessa glanced at her. “You okay?”

  “Yes.”

  Once the last thing was set down, Lysara’s attention drifted forward, as it always did. To what came next.

  Second term courses. What they would ask of her. What access they offered.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  She had chosen carefully. Classes that would take her closer to field samples, to living materials, to observation instead of theory alone. Some would expect substitutions early. Others could wait. Timing mattered.

  Her mind began sorting through what she had brought with her. What was already gone. What wouldn’t last another term.

  A few plants would need replacing sooner than she’d like.

  Money crept in at the edges of the thought — not as panic, just pressure. Enough to require planning. She pushed it into the same mental ledger as everything else.

  There would be alternatives. There always were. Similar properties. Local equivalents. Things that grew nearby if she knew where to look.

  “We should eat,” Tessa said after a moment. “Before the cafeteria fills.”

  The cafeteria was already loud in the way only shared hunger could make it. Plates clinked, benches scraped, voices overlapped without apology. Warmth and steam hung low, carrying the smell of bread and something spiced enough to wake her appetite properly.

  Tessa claimed a corner spot without comment, sliding a tray aside to make space. Lysara followed, letting the noise wash around her instead of through her.

  Rowana didn’t sit.

  “I’m just grabbing something quick.” She backed away mid-sentence, already turning. “Orientation meeting for my track, then storage keys, then—”

  She stopped, smiled, softer. “I’ll find you later. I mean it.”

  “I get it,” Lysara said. “Go so we can miss you.”

  Rowana nodded, satisfied, and disappeared into the crowd.

  “She’s going to love having a room to herself.”

  “She will and hate it a little.”

  Tessa smiled. “Yeah.”

  They ate in companionable quiet for a few minutes. Not silence — just low exchange. A comment about the bread. A shared look when someone nearly dropped a tray. The kind of talk that didn’t need holding onto.

  Lysara noticed him as soon as the space shifted.

  A familiar energy threaded through the noise — purposeful, restless, just slightly out of sync with the room. She looked up as Kayden threaded between tables, tray balanced in one hand, scanning faces with that same alert ease he brought everywhere.

  She hadn’t seen him in two weeks.

  Kayden spotted them and grinned, bright and unguarded. “There you are.”

  He dropped onto the bench across from them like he’d always been there. “I swear this place rearranges itself when I’m not looking.”

  Tessa snorted. “You’ve been gone.”

  “Field,” he said easily. “Training. Correction. More training. Studying. Eating when someone remembered to tell me. Sleeping when I couldn’t avoid it. Repeat.”

  “That sounds… efficient,” Tessa said.

  “Yup.” Kayden replied cheerfully, gulping down his food. “Efficient. It works.”

  His gaze flicked to Lysara. “You look settled.”

  She considered the word. “I am.”

  “Good.” He took another bite, then added, casual as anything, “Second-command knights don’t get much time to drift.”

  Tessa blinked. “Already in your second year?”

  Kayden shrugged, trying and failing to look unconcerned. “New promotion. New team.”

  “That’s not nothing,” Tessa said.

  “I didn’t say it was.” He grinned again, softer this time. “So. What did you pick?”

  “Alchemy,” Lysara said, spoon hovering briefly over her bowl, “and apothecary.”

  She hesitated. “Field-adjacent.”

  Tessa opened her palm. A few sparks flared, and a slight smile crept onto her lips.

  “Mage.”

  Kayden’s eyebrows lifted. “We have trial rotations. Observers from other teams too.”

  Tessa tilted her head. “You think you deserve us?”

  Kayden snorted. “No. I think you should be seen.”

  Then, to Lysara, more carefully, “There are support positions. Research. Logistics. You wouldn’t be expected to hold the line.”

  He shrugged. “Show up. See if it fits.”

  Lysara met his gaze. He wasn’t pushing. Just offering.

  She nodded once, filing the information where it belonged. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Good, do that.”