Page 128 of Legacy Elite

I come back to the residence at about six and there's somebody standing at the corner of the building — not on the path, at the corner, in the dark, where the wall turns toward the bins and the service door.

I nearly take his head off.

"Miss Miller—"

"Why are you in the alley?"

"There's a security position here now." He's about fifty, in an academy coat. "Since Friday."

"Why?"

"Because you can stand in the gap between that wall and the hedge and see straight through the ground-floor corridor into the stairwell." He points. "Anyone coming down from your floor."

I stand in the dark and look at the gap.

He's right. You can see the whole corridor. You can see the door to the stairs. If you stood here for a week you'd know exactly when I come and go and exactly who walks me home.

"Who found that?"

"Came through the security review."

"Who found it?"

The man checks something on the tablet he's holding.

"Ardent flagged it," he says.

Right. Of course. Caspian's been on campus all week, and House Ardent has professionals, and they'd have—

"Caspian Ardent," I say.

The officer looks up.

"No," he says. "Ander Ardent. In writing, Thursday night. Sightlines and lighting. We had it covered by Friday morning."

I don't say anything for a second.

Thursday night.

Four hours after I walked out of a corridor and told him to stop punishing me, Ander Ardent went and stood in the dark by the bins behind my building, and worked out where somebody would have to stand to watch me, and wrote it down.

And hasn't said one single word about it since.

"Thank you," I say to the officer, and go in.

I see him on Monday.

I'm coming out of the residence at eight and he's across the courtyard, coming down the administration steps with his bag on his shoulder and Soren beside him, in the middle of a conversation, not looking at anything in particular.

And then he does it.

He glances at my window.

It's nothing. It takes half a second and he doesn't break stride and I don't think he knows he's doing it — his eyes go along the front up to the corner where the wall turns, to the man standing in the gap by the bins. Checks the position. Checks the door.

Checks me.

And stops. Because I'm standing right there on the path, twenty feet away, watching him do it.