They walked together beneath the fading light, the city loosening around them as evening settled in.

  Kayden talked easily, not to fill the silence, but to move alongside it. He pointed out streets that tangled after dark, stalls that paid fair when they felt like it, and which bells meant curfew rather than celebration.

  A sharp appreciative whistle cut through the crowd.

  “Looks Shae. Very nice.”

  Lysara’s shoulders tightened before she could stop them.

  A girl shoved past, posture loud, hair bright blonde laced with pink. Kayden’s gaze lifted—not to the girl, but to the way the flow shifted around them. He stepped half a pace outward as another cluster approached, his broad frame catching the edge of it. The crowd split and passed.

  “You new to Brimward?” he asked, as if nothing had interrupted.

  “Yes.”

  “That explains it.” He glanced at her, quick and curious. “You don’t really switch off, do you?”

  She let her shoulders drop a fraction. “Should I?”

  He huffed, amused. “Nah. Just saying—you don’t need it here.”

  They walked on. The market thinned. Stone replaced canvas and spice. Kayden matched her pace without comment, drifting back to her side once the street widened again.

  A stall near the alley burned too clean for the hour.

  Lysara checked half a step. The bottles were stoppered tight, labels neat, but the scent underneath clung, turning instead of breaking. Her fingers tightened on her strap.

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  Kayden didn’t look at the stall. He shifted slightly to the outside as a group passed the other way, posture loose, unthreatening.

  “Outer ring mixes,” he said lightly. “If something smells the same twice, I don’t buy it.”

  She breathed out and kept walking. The smell stayed with her for a moment longer, then thinned.

  “So,” he said, hands hooking into his belt, “where’re you headed?”

  “The Academy.”

  He glanced at her—quick and sharp.

  “Figures.”

  “How?”

  “You haven’t stopped paying attention.”

  She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.

  “I’m Kayden,” he added, like it slipped his mind. “Second year.”

  “You’re already enrolled.”

  “Unfortunately.” A crooked smile. “Means I know which shortcuts aren’t.”

  They passed beneath an old stone arch, its markings worn thin. Kayden nodded to it without slowing.

  “People like that one,” he said. “Gets you there faster. Also gets you noticed.”

  She adjusted her path without thinking, keeping to the center of the street. He stayed on the outer edge.

  “If you get chalk work first term,” he went on, casual, “copy what’s on the board. No extras. They don’t like creativity from strangers.”

  She nodded.

  “And don’t help people fix their work.” He glanced sideways at her. “Even when it’s obvious.”

  Her grip tightened once. She released it.

  “Alchemy rooms are cold,” he added. “Always cold. If something reacts fast, step back and write it down. Don’t correct it.”

  “Apothecary?”

  “Don’t trade mixes,” he said. “Someone always tweaks one to see who notices.”

  They crossed into wider streets. Lanterns appeared, evenly spaced. Fewer voices. More stone.

  “For noble duty,” she said.

  “That’s what they call it,” he replied. “Mostly it’s endurance.”

  Ahead, the Academy rose from the stone, its walls catching the last of the light.

  “Orientation’s loud,” Kayden said. “Best thing you can do is arrive early and say nothing.”

  She nodded.

  “Watch more than you talk,” he added, then grinned. “At least until you know who enjoys the sound of their own voice.”

  She looked at him then. At how he stood just slightly angled into the flow of the street, like habit, not effort.

  “Why are you helping me?”

  He shrugged. “Someone once walked me this far.”

  A bell rang in the distance, low and measured.

  Kayden adjusted his pace to hers as they continued on, neither hurrying nor slowing. Ahead, the Academy gates waited.

  Lysara walked beside him toward it, steady again.