I slipped back into the barracks on the first floor with all the exaggerated care of a man who’d survived an evening far too interesting for his own cardiac health and was now determined—absolutely determined—to avoid even the faintest whisper of further complications.
The hallway behind had been suspiciously quiet, the sort of silence that made wonder if the universe was briefly distracted with soone else’s disaster long enough to grant a five-minute window of undeserved rcy.
I took it, of course—because when the universe hands you anything that isn’t an imdiate punishnt, you grab it before it rembers who you are.
I eased open the door with the delicacy of a surgeon picking shrapnel out of a royal backside, only to be greeted by the barracks’ signature bouquet: warm bodies, old linens, tal hinges that squeaked when the temperature changed by half a degree, and that persistent undertone of "too many people sleeping in one room and pretending everything is normal."
The grandfather clock at the far end ticked with that lodramatic, self-important gravity only clocks older than several political dynasties can manage. Each tock echoed through the dark like a slow, judgntal sigh.
I tiptoed across the floorboards as though auditioning for the role of "Sneakiest Cartoon Character Alive," shoulders tucked, elbows hugged close, toes gliding across the planks with theatrical delicacy.
My body had spent so long dodging Iskanda’s blows that moving quietly felt like an instinct, which was almost funny in a very "my life is absurd" kind of way.
I made it all the way to my bunk, fingers just curling around the first rung of the ladder, when a low snort rumbled from below like so irritated beast.
Brutus lay sprawled across the bottom bunk, one massive arm draped off the side, eyes glinting up at with a look that was half "I’ve been waiting for you" and half "I knew you’d try to sneak in like this."
His lips curled into that smug, sleepy grin of his as he muttered, "You finally crawl back from your royal beating, huh?"
His voice was raspy from sleep and too deep for a whisper, which ant it vibrated up the ladder like he was trying to shake off.
I shushed him imdiately, looking around like so guilty raccoon caught rummaging through a pantry after midnight, and hissed, "I wasn’t crawling anywhere. And it wasn’t a beating. It was training."
Brutus’s eyebrow rose so high I worried it might detach from his face and wander off to live a better life. "Right..."
I wrinkled my nose at him, muttering, "Go to sleep, you doofus."
He chuckled—a deep, rolling, chest-rumbling chuckle that said he absolutely loved this. "Aye, aye, boss," he murmured, turning over. And then, within seconds, a massive snore thundered out of him with the volu and sincerity of a dying walrus.
I gave him an unamused look he couldn’t see, then climbed the rest of the ladder and plopped face-first onto my bed. I didn’t even bother to cover myself at first. I rely rolled over before laying there, arms spread out, staring at the ceiling beams as if they might offer a dal for surviving today’s round of mayhem.
The room stretched out beneath in soft gradients of shadow, all of it settling into that heavy, late-night quiet that falls after a day spent breaking bodies and spirits in the na of discipline.
To my left, across a narrow aisle of bunks, Mia slept curled in Freya’s arms, the two tucked together so neatly they looked like they’d been sculpted that way.
Freya’s hair draped across Mia’s shoulder like a protective vine, and Mia’s face—thankfully cleaned of tears and gri—was the calst I’d seen it all day.
On my right, the rest of the crew lay in various chaotic sleeping positions: arms dangling off bunks, one leg hanging dramatically into the aisle, soone’s blanket wadded into a pillow that looked like it had been punched into cooperation.
A soft chorus of snores and breathing filled the room like a badly tuned orchestra, strangely comforting in its own ssy sort of way.
Across from , Elvina slept on her top bunk, posture elegant even in unconsciousness, her smug little face fixed into the exact expression she always wore—like she was above everyone even in her dreams.
She had her arm draped over her forehead in a dramatic swoop that suggested she’d fallen asleep thinking sothing pretentious.
I sighed, pushing her existence out of my mind as the grandfather clock at the end of the room chid softly. The heavy brass pendulum swung in slow arcs, each tick rolling across the room like a lazy drumbeat.
Midnight.
The perfect ti for bad decisions.
Right on cue, tal clanged sowhere within the walls. Not loud enough to wake anyone, but just loud enough to make jolt upright like a startled cat.
I leaned over the side of my bunk, squinting at the nearest vent. A few seconds passed before a muffled curse echoed from behind the grate—several, actually, strung together like soone pulling taut a string of firecrackers.
Then Dunny’s dusty head popped out like so sort of disgruntled goblin erging from a cave. His blond hair was sticking out in every direction, tangled with dust and cobwebs, and his cheeks were sared with gri in a way that suggested the vents had been actively fighting against him.
"Dunny!" I whisper-hissed.
His eyes lit up instantly—big, bright, and relieved—as though he’d been half expecting to erge in the wrong room or fall into a laundry chute.
He wriggled free of the vent with all the grace of a newborn fawn and clattered onto the floor with a soft thump.
Before he could even think about stepping on the nearest pair of shoes, I reached down, grabbed him by the collar, and hauled him up onto my bunk. He scrambled his legs up behind , and almost instantly we ducked under my blanket like two kids hiding from an imaginary monster.
"Was anyone following you?" I whispered. Dunny shook his head, then imdiately wavered, "N-N-no... I an yes—wait, no..."
I stared at him, unimpressed. "Dunny. Were. You. Followed?"
He swallowed, eyes darting around as if the vents themselves might accuse him. "No. I’m sure. Pretty sure. Very sure. Mostly sure..."
I resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose. "Fine. Did anyone see you leave?"
"N-no," he said, then winced and added, "I don’t think so? I was quiet! Quiet-ish."
I groaned so quietly it sounded like a sigh, then let the matter drop. There was no use interrogating him when he answered questions like soone spinning a roulette wheel.
"Well?" I whispered, leaning closer. "What did you find?"
Dunny perked up imdiately, shoulders straightening as though he’d been waiting his whole life to be asked that question.
"Everything! I watched Iskanda the whole day like you told to. She woke up really early and stretched for thirty-two minutes, which is weird because I didn’t know stretching could take that long and—"
"Dunny," I cut in gently, "sothing useful."
He blinked, thinking hard enough that his nose scrunched. "Right. Um. Okay. She spent a long ti with this necklace thing? The one with the ruby in it."
My heart skipped. "What was she doing with it?"
"She kept tinkering with it," he said, miming odd little gestures with his fingers. "And writing notes. Lots of notes. In the second floor’s main library."
A sharp, satisfied grin tugged at my lips. "Perfect," I whispered. "Anything else?"
Dunny shook his head. I reached out and pinched his cheek once in praise, earning a tiny squeak from him. "Good work. Now go back before anyone notices you’re missing."
He puffed his chest slightly at the complint, which made snort quietly, then wriggled out of the blankets and scampered back toward the vent.
He hoisted himself up with a struggle, shoved the grate aside, and slipped inside before pulling it back into place with a soft click. The wall swallowed him whole, then fell silent again.
I sighed, letting my head flop back onto the pillow, exhaustion seeping into like ink through wet parchnt. My eyes drifted shut—just for a second, I told myself. Just to breathe.
And then a faint rustling cut through the quiet. My eyes snapped open. Slowly, carefully, I lifted my head and peered through the dark.
Elvina was sitting up.
Her posture was rigid, tense in a way that didn’t match soone waking from a dream. Her eyes flicked around the room, sharp and nervous, scanning for movent. Her fingers curled tightly around sothing in her hand. She took a deep breath, then moved.
Silently.
Smoothly.
Suspiciously.
She slipped off her bunk without a sound, landing with the effortless grace of soone who’d practiced sneaking far more than they’d ever admit.
She tugged on her shoes before padding across the barrack, each step deliberate, making just enough effort to look casual while absolutely failing at it. Then she cracked the door open and vanished into the hall.
I stared after her, wide awake now, a grin stretching across my face.
"Well then, let’s see what you’re up to."
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