The rooms were basic: a bed, a wardrobe, a desk, and a skinny window. Mine was right across the hall from Drew's, which I double-checked before heading inside. The wardrobe was stuffed with green dresses and green linen—marking me as a Wood apprentice, just like I figured Drew's would be full of silver and black.
I was still standing in the doorway, taking it all in, when I noticed those guys from the dining hall had followed us. Three of them, older, with that annoying "I get whatever I want" vibe. They were looking at me with a look I've seen a million times and have zero patience for.
Drew saw them, too. He was half an inch out of his doorway, his face going from blank to stone-cold.
Before he could say anything, I turned back to him. "Actually," I said, loud enough for the peanut gallery to hear, "I think it'd be better if we shared a room. It's safer."
The effect was instant. Drew turned bright red from his neck up and let out this involuntary cough. Behind me, the hallway went beautifully silent for about three seconds.
Then the comments started flying.
"Lady Ava, don't pick the rookie—I can protect you way better."
"My room's bigger, just saying."
"Didn't know the girl was so bold."
I turned around, gave them a friendly wave, and walked straight into Drew's room. He was standing in the middle of the floor, looking like a guy trying to figure out which fire to put out first.
"Are you actually staying here?" he asked.
"I can take the couch." I looked it over. It was small, but flat enough. "I've slept on worse."
"They'll talk. Your parents might hear."
"You're right," I said, and I actually meant it. I'd been so focused on the creeps in the hall that I'd forgotten the bigger picture. If word got back to Count and Countess Clark that their daughter spent the night in a duke's room, it would be a disaster. The last thing I needed was to give the Clarks an excuse to mess with me.
I paused at the door. "Do you think that would be a good enough reason for them to stop talking to me entirely?"
Drew stared at me. "What?"
"My family isn't good," I said. It came out blunter than I meant—no filter, just the truth. "They'd sell me, or this whole kingdom, if it made them a buck."
The silence that followed felt heavy.
"That's a pretty harsh thing to say," he said carefully. "It might make me think you're just like them."
"You don't know me. You can think whatever you want."
"And yet you were going to stay in my room."
He wasn't accusing me; he was just stating facts. I looked at him for a second. Underneath that stiff exterior, I noticed something: not exactly warmth, but he was paying attention. Real attention.
"You're right," I said quietly. I opened the door and walked across the hall to my own room.
I sat on the edge of the bed in the green-tinted light and stared at the floor. Everything was moving so fast. How do I get back to my world? The question hit me like a ton of bricks. I had to stop everything from the priest's story. Keep Drew from leaving. Warn someone about the Clarks. Train my powers. Make sure the marriage happened so the alliance stayed strong.
And if I do all that, I wondered, does the priest take me home?
A knock at the door snapped me out of it. "Who is it?"
"Drew Porter."
I opened it. He was in the hallway in a fresh shirt, looking composed but maybe a little concerned. "You okay?"
"Yeah," I said. "Just going to sleep."
"Good." He glanced down the hall, where two of the older guys had popped up again. "I'll be right across the way."
"I know." I looked at him. "Thank you."
He gave a quick nod and started to turn back to his room. Then he stopped. "We didn't finish our talk from dinner," he said, without looking back.
"The marriage proposal."
"The partnership proposal," he corrected. "You're here because you want to be stronger. So am I. We both need that wedding blessing to hit our full potential. Neither of us has a better option. It's logical."
"What if you fall in love with someone else?" I asked.
He actually thought about it, dead serious. "I don't think that'll happen. But if things changed, we could end it. A divorce, if that's what you mean."
"Fine," I said. "Partners, then."
"Partners." He paused. "I'll take the couch tonight."
"There's a couch on that side, too," I pointed out.
"Mine's bigger."
"That's not really—" I stopped. He was already walking away, and his door clicked shut. I stood there for a second, then just shook my head.
Partners, I thought. With the guy I'm supposed to keep from getting dumped on his wedding night.
I locked my door, crashed on my "good enough" couch, and was out like a light before I knew it.