Lancet slept well that night.
He sank into the mattress the moment his back touched it and stayed there, buried beneath the sheets as though the bed had claimed him. After five days of sleeping on stone, dirt and whatever flat stretch of Kestrel's mountain had hurt the least, his bed was a cushion of clouds.
Heaven.
By morning, most of the ache in his arms had dulled into manageable strains. The Academy returned to its usual rhythm around him. Bells rang. Students hurried between buildings. Instructors started the day by threatening latecomers with punishment they rarely had time to enforce.
Lancet joined Min Tu, Kasto, Anita and Luke for breakfast in the cafeteria.
Luke was slowly reintegrating himself into the group. He still acted annoyed most of the time, but he had stopped finding distant tables whenever they entered the room. That counted as progress.
