Rowana caught Lysara at the stairwell before she could disappear into the upper corridors.

  “No,” she said, fingers closing around Lysara’s sleeve. “Not tonight.”

  Lysara glanced down at the hand on her arm, then back up. “I wasn’t—”

  “You were,” Rowana said mildly, already steering her away. “You always are.”

  They didn’t go far. Just one of the older common rooms tucked off a service hall, its stone walls warmed by lamps that had never been bright enough to matter. Cushions had been dragged into a loose circle. Towels stacked near a low table. Sweets prepared on low tables. Someone had smuggled in a bottle that smelled faintly of citrus and alcohol, the kind that warmed more than it dulled.

  Rowana had turned the table into a station. Bowls. Gloves. A warped mirror propped against the wall. A bottle of dye with its original label scratched out and replaced by a handwritten warning: Test first.

  Tessa sat cross-legged on the floor, short hair already damp, eyeing her reflection like it had personally betrayed her.

  “If this stains my scalp,” she said, “I’m haunting you.”

  “You say that every time,” Rowana replied, mixing without looking up. “And every time you come back.”

  “That’s because you’re competent,” Tessa muttered, twisting a strand of her dark, ash-brown hair around her finger.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “Don’t spread that around.”

  Adeline watched from her chair, arms folded, posture immaculate even without uniform. “At least you’re committing,” she said. “Half-measures look like regret.”

  Tessa snorted. “You say that about everything.”

  “Because it’s usually true.”

  That earned a ripple of laughter—quiet, tired, real.

  Makeup followed the dye. Nothing dramatic. Color passed hand to hand, applied badly on purpose, wiped off, tried again. Someone declared a shade bold. Someone else called it a mistake. Someone defended it anyway.

  The bottle made a slow circle. No one poured much. Just enough to soften edges, not enough to blur them.

  Conversation drifted the way it always did when no one wanted to talk about what was coming.

  Boy ratings. Loud. Unfair.

  “Overrated.”

  “That’s slander.”

  “I’m not saying he’s useless. I’m saying I wouldn’t trust him with my back or my drink.”

  “That’s two standards.”

  “Both important.”

  Lysara leaned back against the wall, listening more than speaking. It felt strange, being here. Just voices overlapping. Towels being swapped. Someone swearing softly when dye splashed where it shouldn’t have.

  It wasn’t about impressing anyone.

  It was about being young enough to still do things that didn’t matter.

  The night bells rang once.

  No one jumped.

  They finished what they were doing. Towels folded. Gloves tossed. Makeup wiped back to something acceptable.

  The mirror disappeared.

  Rowana walked Lysara to the door.

  She didn’t say anything at first. Just reached into the pocket of her coat and pressed a small pouch into Lysara’s hand, fingers closing briefly around hers.

  “You won’t be disappointed.”

  Lysara felt the weight of it. Familiar. Prepared.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Rowana nodded once. “Don’t disappear without telling someone.”

  “I’ll try.”

  The corridor beyond was already thinning. Prep schedules tightening into hard lines. Voices lower. Footsteps more purposeful.

  The pause was over.

  Lysara returned to her room and set the pouch carefully beside her pack before beginning to sort what would go with her into the forest.

  Pressure settled back into place.

  Familiar.

  Inevitable.

  And waiting.