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My feet touch the cold stone. I stand. Take two steps. Stop. What would I say? Nothing. That's fine. We've done nothing before. I look toward the door. Then toward Nyra. Sleeping. Tomorrow is still here. They aren't leaving until tomorrow night. There will be breakfast. Training. Preparation. Hours. I will see Caelen. I will see Rhyven. Obviously.

I get back into bed. Pull the blankets up. Across the corridor, Room 305 goes quiet.

Tomorrow.

I'll see them tomorrow.

Chapter Sixty

I wake at five. Not because of bells. Not because Nyra moves. Not because someone knocks on the door. I just wake. Eyes open. Heart already beating too fast.

For several seconds, I stare at the ceiling. Then I remember. Today.

The room is dark. Nyra sleeps across from me.

Outside, the Academy is quiet in the strange way it only ever is before dawn. I lie there. Still. Listening.

Nothing. Then—Room 305. I sit up. No voices. No movement. No Caelen complaining. No Rhyven opening drawers too loudly because apparently he has never learned how to exist quietly before sunrise.

Nothing. I get out of bed. Bare feet against cold stone.

Cross the room. Open the door. Room 305 is open.

Empty. Both beds made badly. Caelen's worse. Rhyven's barely disturbed. Their field packs are gone. Weapons gone. Flight gear gone. Deployment coats gone. I stand there. Stare.

A passing third-year notices me. "They left at four thirty."

My eyes move toward her. "Where."

"Western grounds."

"Already?"

"Final preparation."

Right. Of course. I nod. "Thanks." She keeps walking.

I remain outside the room another few seconds. Then close the door. Not mine. Theirs.

Nyra is awake when I return. She looks at me. Doesn't ask. Good. No classes today. No training. No exams.

No first-year response drills. No dragon practicals. Nothing. The Academy suspended normal operations until deployment. Apparently everyone decided we deserved rest. Idiots.

At six, I go to breakfast. Caelen isn't there. Rhyven isn't there. Dax isn't there. Soren. Maelis. Every third-year preparing for deployment is somewhere else. The dining hall feels enormous.

Cassian sits beside Nyra. He looks at me. "Morning."

"Debatable." Good. Normal.

I take food. Eat three bites. Stop.

"You should eat." Nyra says.

I look at her. "Don't." She raises both hands. Nothing else. I drink coffee. It tastes wrong. Probably because nobody steals it.

At seven, I try investigating. Heart of Varethia. I read the same paragraph four times. Nothing enters.

Nyra sits on the floor with three different historical indexes. Cassian has joined her. He is complaining about handwriting. Again.