"This conversation is unnecessary. We have exams to focus on."
Lucavion gave a soft laugh under his breath. "Ah. There she is."
Elara's lips tightened—not outwardly, but enough that she felt the faint pull at the corners. He always noticed when she shifted; he always tracked which version of herself she let forward.
She hated that.
"I don't know what you mean," she said calmly.
"Of course you do." His voice was warm, almost indulgent. "But if pretending otherwise keeps you balanced, I won't object."
Elara didn't answer. She didn't need to. Silence now was not vulnerability—it was armor.
By the time they neared the Magisterial Annex, the hallways had grown quieter, the echo of their footsteps the only sound in the long stone corridor. The looming doorway ahead was carved with runes and exam sigils, its archway cold and imposing in the morning light.
Lucavion slowed his pace fractionally, matching her stride as they approached.
