"Harsh,” Beck says, biting a huge piece out of bread, hardly chewing, then swallowing. “Did you suggest she go fuck herself? What do you have to lose at this point, right? It’s not like she could be even more shitty to you. And I doubt she could fail you any harder than she already has.”

"That's terrible advice," Ambrose interjects, adjusting his glasses. "Antagonizing instructors before the Crucible is strategically unsound."

"Everything is 'strategically unsound' with you," Beck complains. “Using the restroom without making sure there’s enough wiping tissue would be strategically unsound.”

Mireen narrows her eyes. “Yes… it would, Beck.”

He shrugs. “I’m just saying. Sometimes you’ve got to live your life. See what happens.”

Ambrose ignores him, turning to me instead. "Speaking of strategically unsound... we should start practicing with Brunhild. If she's going to be our fifth, we need to make sure we work well together."

I nod, even though my mind swims with responsibilities already. Training sessions with Raith. Time I want to devote to still pouring over the Unbound book, looking for anything I might have missed. Finding a way to slip outside the castle and practice flying with Typhon. All this on top of our usual duties here.

"I'll let her know," Beck says. "You guys free tonight? I could see if she can meet us."

"Not tonight," I say quietly as I think of my plans to meet with Raith for more training.

Mireen tilts her head. "Right. She’s probably wanting to practice some channeling to catch up with Sestra.”

"Right," I say, suppressing a twinge of guilt because that’s not at all what I’m planning.

"Tomorrow, then," Mireen says. "Instructor Pilton is off doing gods-know-what with that group of legacies this week. We can use the time we'd normally be in Military Tactics class to practice with Brunhild."

"Sounds good," Beck says. "I'll pass the word on."

The conversation shifts to more Crucible preparation, but my mind wanders. I can't stop thinking about what Raith and I overheard yesterday at the quarry—Bastian's concern that this year's Crucible would be a bloodbath, his father's dismissal of those concerns, the mention of "burned out marks" and a siphon possibly hunting students. The revelation that Bastian, of all people, seemed genuinely worried about our safety.

I can't even remember when the last time Bastian directly spoke with me was. He was there to break up the fight a few days ago, but he hasn't been checking in with me anymore. I wonder if he's conflicted about keeping me a secret from his father. It certainly sounded like his father would have wanted to know he was helping an unbound develop her powers by handing over old secret family books.

But why is he protecting me, too?

"Earth to Nessa," Beck says, waving his hand in front of my face. "You still with us?"