“Morning!” Grit shouted.

I shot up. Fek yawned, bare arms stretching up from under his covers. I turned to my side, but the bed opposite mine was empty, already meticulously made.

“Oh, Minnelil is already out,” Grit said. “She sleeps way too little. It can’t be healthy.”

“She needs only about half as much sleep as us,” I mumbled.

“What?” Grit asked.

“Nothing.” I stood up and ran a hand through my hair. It was getting long. I guess it didn’t matter as much here since no one was trying to grab it anymore. I’d only been in one scrap this past month. Must be a personal best. “Does anyone have scissors? Or can I get my hair cut somewhere in here?” I asked. Memories of last night tried to push to the front of my mind, and I wasn’t ready for that.

Grit gathered her hair in her hands, starting to braid it. The white of her hair blended with her skin, both equally bright. “Most people get haircuts when they visit home.”

“I cut my own hair!” Fek said.

“Yeah, and you look like you do,” Grit said.

I scoffed. Maybe the Bursar could do it? Her scalpels looked really sharp. She’d probably decline, saying that it would be too hard not to cut my throat. “I guess I can ask if Ang has a pair of good scissors. I bet Minnelil could cut my hair if—“

I stopped talking as blood rushed to my cheeks, imagining her hands running through my hair. I glanced around, making sure she wasn’t here.

“Yeah, she offered to cut my hair after the last time I did it,” Fek said.

“For a good reason,” Grit said.

“Don’t be like that. It was fine!”

“You looked like a frantic mushroom!”

A knock on the door interrupted them. A skeleton opened it and Falar stepped in. He looked from one of us to the next, wrinkling his nose. “We leave after lunch. Make sure you are ready.”

Grit’s mouth hung open.

Fek reached over and poked at her chin from below with his finger.

She snapped it shut, then opened it again. “Yes, lecturer!” she shouted.

“Sure,” I said.

Falar nodded and turned around. He pulled the cowl over his head and stepped outside, looking back at us over his shoulder. “Don’t make me regret bringing you along.”

“Almost forgot to say something snide, eh?” I said.

Grit grabbed my wrist with both hands, glaring at me with.

“Hah,” Falar said. “Our expe—“

The skeleton shut the door.

I frowned at the closed door. Grit held on to my wrist. Her palms were so coarse, like having my hand stuck between two boulders.

The skeleton opened the door.

Falar stood with his arms across his chest behind it. He sighed, opening his mouth to speak, then closing it again. He threw a look at the skeleton. “No, you ruined it. The moment is gone. Reanimated by Jextor, weren’t you?”

The skeleton’s bones seemed to press together under his gaze. Falar spun around and marched off.

The skeleton wiped its forehead, its hand making a scraping sound against its skull.

“Weird,” I said.

“Minnelil said that the personality of the necromancer can bleed over to the undead somewhat,” Fek said, scratching at his hair. Even I could tell it was pretty shaggy now that I looked at it properly.

“Jextor would have the personality to spare,” Grit said slowly.

---

Grit was completely uncontrollable after Falar’s visit. She almost made us miss breakfast by running around the dorm, figuring out what to pack. She piled all of her clothes on top of her bed.

Turned out she had a lot.

When we finally got to the Breakfast Hall, Minnelil was just finishing eating. We nodded at each other, but she said she needed to handle something and ran out. Coward. I was grateful to her.

After breakfast, a skeleton arrived with instructions in Falar’s handwriting for me and Grit. We could only bring one satchel each for notes, a book or two, and what personal items we would need. What was wrong with personal items?

What a creep.

It all meant packing didn’t take that long after all. I got the coats and a pair of scissors from Ang. Fek offered to cut my hair as Minnelil still wasn’t around, but I said I wasn’t quite that dumb.

---

Minnelil came back a bit before lunch. “Oh, you’re still here?” she said.

I sat on my bed and held up two books to her. “Yeah, I’m trying to decide if I’m going to take Basic Reanimation or Death, Death, Death.”

Minnelil wrinkled her nose. “Basic Reanimation for sure. The other one isn’t worth anyone’s time.”

“Should have guessed from the name,” I said, throwing the book over my shoulder. It landed on my pillow with a thump. “Um, did you sleep well?”

“Quite well, thanks.”

“Good, good.”

I licked my lips.

Fek broke the silence by tapping his fingers on the table. “I slept pretty ok too?” he said after a moment. “When is it lunchtime?”

“Pretty soon,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Ugh.”

“You’re going to have that lunch with Frederik?” Minnelil asked.

“Yeah. Debt’s a debt. And yes, that is the way things work. At least for me.”

She stepped toward me, but stopped in the middle of the room. “It doesn’t need to be. People can help you just because they li… choose to.”

I cleared my throat, sniffed. “Maybe. I’m not sure. I’ll think about it.”

Grit stepped into the dorm with her satchel hanging from her shoulder. “Oh, hi Min. Decided on the book already?” she asked me.

I waved the book at her. “Yeah. I’ll go and wait for Frederik. See you after lunch.”

“I’ll come to see you off,” Minnelil said.

Hadn’t expected anything else.

Oh well. One problem at a time.

---

“You made it,” Frederik said, smiling widely. His blond hair was shaped into a sharp wedge on top of his head.

I frowned at it. “I said I would.”

“Yeah, but I had a feeling. You seem like a person who has stuff happen around them a lot.”

“Hah. No such luck this time. Haven’t been in the infirmary for weeks.”

Frederik raised his eyebrows and chuckled. “Well, shall we?”

“Sure,” I said.

He had a table picked out at the far end of the hall. I wondered how he had kept it empty, as the small solitary tables were usually the first to fill up.

“You know you didn’t have to?” Frederik said as he sat down on the opposite side of the table. He looked at me, scratching at his faint stubble with one finger.

“That’s what everyone keeps telling me. I’m already here. Too late to worry about it,” I said.

“Heh, quite,” he said. “Look, I’m interested. I know everyone here, and everyone knows me. Or at least my surname, which they think is the same thing.”

I leaned to the left to let a skeleton place a plate and utensils in front of me on the table. The plate was empty for some reason. That was odd. “Right. Go on.”

“The problem is I don’t know you. And you don’t know anyone.”

I froze halfway reaching for my fork. “Is that a threat?”

“What? Why, what? No!” he said, eyes wide. “What do you mean?”

I sucked on my lower lip. Right. Hormens had said something like that to me back in the city. It had the form of a threat, the implied helplessness, the lack of protection, but maybe Frederik hadn’t meant it like that. “Sorry,” I muttered.

He chuckled, rather nervously. He looked over my shoulder and nodded at something.

I glanced to the side and jumped at the skeleton standing behind my left shoulder. It was holding a metallic tray with a large roast. I leaned away from it, and it started piling meat on my plate. “W-what’s this?” I asked the skeleton.

“I organized something special for the occasion,” Frederik answered. “An important student council meeting, you know?”

He looked so happy, beaming at me over the table. The meat did look good, charred on the outside, rosy inside. I poked at it with my fork.

Other skeletons piled more trays and bowls on the table. One brought glasses and a pitcher. It poured a thimbleful of wine into Frederik’s glass. He tasted it, smacking his lips and nodding at the skeleton with an encouraging smile.

“Look, Lina, what I meant is that you’re a mystery. You come out of nowhere. Out of all the teachers, Falar is interested in you. Lombarte would hate you for that alone. And you don’t think I’m just a Rodn. You don’t even seem to know what it means.”

“I’d never met people with surnames before this,” I said. “Where I come from, people aren’t called Rodn. If they were called something other than their name, it was Rag or Boot or something.”

He swirled the red wine in his glass, peering at it. “We don’t get a lot of people called Boot here in the Academy,” he said slowly. “Which is exactly why I asked you to lunch. Do you know how refreshing it is when someone isn’t falling over themselves to make you like them?”

“Not really,” I said. I ladled gravy onto the roast. I hoped it was gravy and not soup or stew or something. Smelled really good, either way. “So, I’m a fun refreshment?”

He sighed. “Ah, I didn’t mean…” He frowned, but then his face lit up again and he grinned. “This is just what I meant!” He waved a hand over the table, the steaming food and the pitcher of blood-red wine. “You wouldn’t have needed to come. Never any strings attached. Let’s just enjoy the food, what do you say? I bet watching you eat will be fun.”

I glared at him, scowling with a slice of roast skewered on my fork. His face started to turn red, and he looked for a moment like he was about to start crying, then he started laughing, shaking his head from side to side.

“See what I mean?” he said, rubbing his face with both hands. “I’m good at this! Usually.”

No strings attached never meant anything except a warning to be careful. No one could be this stupid, so he had to be acting, looking for an angle. If he was, it was the worst attempt I’d ever seen. Which might be exactly what I should be wary of.

I snorted, distracting myself from the spiral. The roast smelled great. I glanced over my shoulder. Grit, Fek, and Minnelil were all watching me. Fek grinned, but Minnelil’s face was unreadable. I flashed her a smile that I hoped was reassuring.

Grit smiled and winked at me, a knowing look in her huge eyes. My face flushed instantly.

Damn it.