“What?”
“It was noted in your last housing survey that you were having difficulty sleeping.”
I blinked.
I genuinely didn’t remember writing that.
Then again, the Runevald housing surveys were absurdly invasive. Questions about magical fluctuations, dreams, emotional states, sleep cycles…
At the time, I’d assumed it was because the Institute sat directly atop intersecting ley lines that threaded through the skies of the multiverse.
Now? Now I wondered if they monitored students far more closely than any of us realized.
“Um,” I said slowly, still staring at the faint blue glow fading from my fingertips, “actually, yes, sleeping at night is always difficult for me.”
That much was true.
Because lately, sleep had become impossible.
Not because of anxiety.
Not entirely.
Because every time I closed my eyes, I saw silver-blue eyes staring back at me from the dark.
Because my body seemed painfully aware of Sten, even in his absence.
Because wanting him had become its own kind of insomnia.
“I was actually going to speak to my advisor about switching into more nocturnal classes next semester,” I admitted.
“Mm.” Professor Kenna folded her hands neatly before her. “A wise idea, Miss Cordoza.”
Something about the way she said it made my skin prickle.
Not strange exactly.
Just knowing.
“Tell me,” she continued smoothly, “has Sten been a satisfactory tutor?”
The question should not have made my pulse jump the way it did.
“Oh,” I said, trying for casual and failing spectacularly, “yeah. He’s actually quite brilliant.”
Understatement of the century.
Professor Kenna watched me carefully.
Too carefully.
“He designed an entire celestial mapping system,” I rushed onward, desperate to sound normal. “Like—an actual functioning inter-realm astronomy program. It overlays ley line activity and tracks celestial movement across multiple planes simultaneously.”
The professor looked unsurprised.
“Did he?”
“Yes!” I said, unable to stop myself. “I mean, it’s incredible. I had no idea he was?—”
