The girls’ dormitory stood on the northern slope of the academy grounds, its tall stone exterior washed in the fading light of early evening. The building looked older than the Orientation Hall, older than most of Arcanamir itself, like it had been carved out of the mountain rather than built upon it. A single lantern flickered above the entrance, the flame dancing with a faint silver shimmer that made my pulse tighten for reasons I didn’t want to examine.

The moment I stepped inside, the warmth of the common hall wrapped around me with the scent of lavender polish and freshly cast warding charms. Voices drifted through the space from the couches near the fireplace, but no one paid attention to me. Good. I needed a moment to breathe without eyes on me.

I checked the number on the small parchment rolled in my pocket. Room 3A.

The staircase creaked beneath my boots as I climbed it, the wooden railing smooth beneath my fingers. By the time I reached the third floor, the corridor was quiet, dimmer than the rest of the building, lit only by a few hovering lights that pulsed gently from sconces shaped like crescent moons.

My bag felt heavier than it should have as I walked toward the far end. Each step brought a little more of the day’s weight back into my body. The duel. Fenrir catching that spell. Valeria’s sweetness sharpened to venom. My uncle’s warnings echoing in the back of my skull.

When I reached my door, I hesitated. The brass numbers on it gleamed softly in the lanternlight, simple and unthreatening, yet something in my chest tightened as if crossing this threshold meant stepping into another unknown I wasn’t prepared for.

I pushed the door open slowly.

The room was tidy in a way that felt deliberate rather than natural. Two beds sat on opposite sides, each with a small desk beside it. A single window overlooked the training field below, where stragglers still passed by. The air smelled faintly of dried herbs and… something sharper. Something metallic.

Then I noticed her.

Lira Chesley sat on her bed, legs folded neatly beneath her, hands resting in her lap. She lifted her head when I entered, her smile blooming instantly, bright enough to feel rehearsed.

“You made it,” she said.

Her voice was soft and warm, but something about the tone made me think of rooms where every piece of furniture had been placed with intention. Controlled. Perfected.

“Yes,” I said quietly. “I found the place.”

“I was wondering when you would arrive,” she added, watching me with a focus that felt too close to inspection. “Orientation must have taken longer than expected.”

I moved farther inside and gently set my bag down at the foot of the empty bed. “It went… fine.”

“That is not what I heard.”

Her smile remained intact, but the air in the room shifted. I looked over at her carefully. “What did you hear.”

“That you were part of the courtyard incident,” she said, tilting her head slightly. The lanternlight caught the edge of her hair, giving it a soft halo. “That an heir stepped in. That the entire academy was talking about it.” She paused. “You drew a lot of attention today.”

“I didn’t mean to,” I said.

“I know.” Lira’s voice softened, but not in a comforting way. More like she was adjusting a mask. “No one means to attract their gaze.”

I tried to unpack slowly, placing my folded robe on the desk beside my bed, but I felt her stare following every move. Like she was memorizing details she shouldn’t need.

“Were you hurt,” she asked.

“No.”

“Good.” She smoothed the sheet beneath her palms, leaving no wrinkle behind. “One of the heirs stepping in is not a small thing. Especially him.”

My pulse skipped.

She hadn’t said a name. But she didn’t need to.

I turned slightly, pretending to search for a place to put my worn satchel. “How much do you know about them.”

“Enough to know that people either want their attention or fear getting it,” she said. “There is rarely anything between those two.”

I swallowed. “And you? Which side are you on.”

Lira smiled again, but her eyes didn’t warm. “Oh, I stay out of their way. Everyone should.”

Her fingers traced the edge of her blanket, moving in careful, habitual lines, as if she needed something to do with her hands while she thought.

“You met him properly today?” she asked. “Fenrir?”

I didn’t answer immediately. The memory of his eyes in the hallway rose unbidden. The steady way he watched me. The quiet warning in his voice. The way he said my name like he was testing the weight of it.

“I met him enough,” I said softly.

Lira nodded, but her expression sharpened, even as she tried to hide it. “He doesn’t speak to many people.”

“I noticed.”

“And he doesn’t step in for anyone,” she added. “Ever.”

My throat felt tight. “It wasn’t intentional.”

She tapped her fingers gently on her knee. “Maybe. But people will not see it that way.”

I pretended to adjust my pillow. “People see what they want.”

“Exactly.” Lira’s gaze locked on me. “And people want stories. Especially about them.”

Her eyes drifted toward the window, the evening light casting her in soft blue shadows. For a moment she looked younger, almost fragile. Then her expression shifted back to its usual composed calm.

“You must be tired,” she said in a voice dipped in politeness. “It has been a long day for you.”

“Yes,” I admitted.

“You can unpack later,” she said. “Sit for a moment. It helps to settle after… a scene like that.”

There was something in the softness of her tone that felt strange. Not threatening. Just… rehearsed. Like she was saying words she had practiced for another situation and simply repurposed now.

I sat on the edge of the bed. Lira watched me with an intensity that made the room feel too warm.

She clasped her hands. “Your uncle must be relieved you arrived safely.”

A small crack opened in my composure. “You know my uncle.”

“Professor Ashwyn?” Her smile warmed in a way that finally felt genuinely human. “Everyone knows him. He is kind. And brilliant. He recommended you personally to the admissions board.”

My heart beat unevenly at that. “He did.”

“That is rare, you know. Professors hardly ever involve themselves in student placements. So whatever gift you have… he must believe in it strongly.”

I swallowed carefully. “He believes I need guidance.”

Lira nodded as though that confirmed something she already suspected. “You will get that here. Arcanamir teaches more than spellcraft. It teaches survival.”

There it was.

The same word Fenrir used.

Survival.

Lira shifted, curling her legs beneath her again. “The dorms can be loud. Just let me know if you need quiet. Some people find it overwhelming at first.”

She was polite.

Kind, even.

But something hovered beneath her kindness like a thin layer of frost waiting to crack.

The room felt too curated.

Too arranged.

Too perfect for someone as expressive as she pretended to be.

As I glanced around again, something in me tightened. The faint scent of metal. The careful organization. The smoothness of her every gesture.

She was watching me not like a roommate.

But like someone assessing a puzzle piece she wasn’t sure belonged.

“Thank you,” I said softly.

Lira’s smile deepened just a fraction. “Of course. We take care of each other here.”

The way she said it didn’t sound reassuring at all.