Thursday morning. Nine AM. Homeroom with Vale.
I sat in the back corner of the lecture hall watching fifty first-years file in through the double doors like they were walking to a funeral. Some of them probably were. Gate mortality stats didn't lie. One in ten first-years washed out before winter break. One in twenty didn't make it to second year at all.
The numbers were cheerful like that.
Belle dropped into the seat on my left, her blue hair still damp from the showers. She smelled like the academy's generic soap and something floral underneath. Her uniform shirt strained across her chest where the top two buttons remained open. The fabric pulled tight enough that I could see the black lace underneath.
I looked away. Tried to anyway.
"Morning, milk vampire."
"Morning, gold digger."
She grinned and kicked my shin under the desk. Not hard. Just enough to remind me she could.
