"We'll wait right over here," Mireen says, taking the others down the hall far enough to give me privacy.

Bastian shows no sign of even noticing the effect he has on people. Instead, he fixes his nearly white eyes on me, face serious. "Were you able to figure out the key?"

"Yes," I said. "I only have a little spare time each day, so it's slow going, but⁠—"

"Good," he says. "And you've hidden it somewhere safe? Separate from the key?"

I nod. "The book is in my room. The key is here," I say, touching my left breast before I think how odd that must look. The key is folded small and tucked into my bra, but Bastian doesn't know that.

He squints.

"Sorry," I say quickly. "It's just… It's on me. I'm keeping it with me at all times."

"Okay. And Nessa? About the trials this weekend."

This weekend? That's already more information than Sestra gave us. That means I only have three or four days to prepare.

His jaw flexes as if he's trying to decide whether he wants to say something. Finally, he gives my arm a soft squeeze. "Be careful. It's going to be dangerous. There are rumors of a rogue elemental near campus. If you see or sense anything of the sort, you run. Don’t try to fight it. Don’t try to reason with it. Just run."

With that, he walks away, leaving me with more questions than answers.

Beck lets out a low whistle as he comes back with the others. "What the hells was that about? And how the hells did you get in the pants of a legacy? I tried that the first week and nearly got myself turned into lava. Totally worth it, but still."

"You tried to fuck a fire? And a legacy, at that?" Mireen asks, mouth hanging open in shock at the sheer stupidity of it.

Beck rubs the back of his neck, grinning crookedly. "I only made my willingness apparent. She… didn’t seem to appreciate my interest.”

"Beck is suicidal. Good to know," Ambrose mutters. "Can we please go eat now, before someone else decides to threaten us in the hallway?"

There's no place in Confluence where the social divides are more obvious than the dining hall. The large space is full of long, wooden tables with bench-style seating, the polished oak surfaces reflecting the golden light from dozens of lanterns hanging from iron chains.

The Academy sets out food of all kinds at regular times. Roasted duck, carved chicken, steaming potatoes, delicious sweets, soft bread with salted butter, and just about anything else I could imagine out for the taking. The abundance still makes me dizzy sometimes.