Sleep didn't just take them; it knocked them out cold. After hours of Vitae-fueled marathon sex that left the massive bed looking like a grenade had gone off in a silk factory, they didn't just drift off; they crashed hard.
And so, they slept right through dawn. They slept through the morning alarms. They even slept through the desperate, angry beeping of Ingrid's and Genevieve's wrist comms warning them about the Lyceum. Hell, even Zaeryn slept through his own internal clock.
They were dead to the world, just a tangled pile of satisfied limbs buried under a hastily grabbed comforter.
At the academy.
The same morning, the Lyceum's grand concourse was already bustling. Students in their crisp, dark uniforms moved in streams, their voices echoing off the high, vaulted ceilings. Morticia, however, walked at her own unhurried pace, her datapad held loosely in one hand as she sipped a steaming cup of synth-kaf.
She spotted Jyn before Jyn spotted her.
