Eira awoke to the faint chime of the hall's morning bell, a silvery note that lingered in the air before fading into the early hush. For a moment, she lay still, letting her eyes wander across the unfamiliar ceiling — pale stone, carved with delicate lunar motifs that caught the dim light creeping through the tall, narrow window.
Her new dormitory in Ombrelune felt different from the compact room she'd occupied for her first two years. Larger, more refined, the space seemed made to remind its occupants that they were no longer first or second-years. A single bed sat neatly against the wall, draped in deep-blue covers embroidered with silver thread. A small writing desk faced the garden view, where a sliver of dawn painted the hedges and flowering trees in shades of blush and gold.
It was her first week in the third-year corridor, the level where third and fourth-year girls shared the same hall. This dormitory building — six floors high — was known across the school for its elegance, its quietness, and its garden that was so carefully tended it felt more like the private grounds of a noble estate than school property. The first two floors belonged to the youngest students; the upper floors to the older years. From the third year onward, the dorms were not clustered by class but mixed, forcing students to adapt to the presence of their seniors.
Eira swung her legs over the bed and stretched, feeling the coolness of the stone floor against her bare feet. The air smelled faintly of night-blooming jasmine, drifting in from the garden. Her mind flicked briefly to the shared bathhouse — something she still wasn't entirely used to. First and second-years had smaller, private bathing rooms. But here, from the third floor upward, the girls shared one large bathhouse between them, third-years to seventh-years alike.
She decided to bathe early, when the dorms were still wrapped in morning silence. Gathering her things, she tucked a towel under one arm, balanced her shampoo bottles and toothbrush in a small wooden tray, and stepped out into the corridor.
The dormitory hall was quiet at this hour. A few doors were cracked open, spilling faint candlelight, where early risers whispered with sleepy voices. Most girls were still curled under blankets. The faint scent of baking bread drifted from the hall far below.
She padded down the stairwell and into the bathhouse wing. The wooden door creaked softly as she pushed it open, stepping into a warm, humid space that smelled of steam, soap, and the mineral tang of springwater.
The bathhouse was vast — much larger than she'd expected — its ceiling lost in mist, with pale columns holding up arches from which delicate streams of water trickled into the pools below. There were two main baths: one warm enough to envelop the body in languid heat, and one cooler, brisk enough to wake the mind. Each pool shimmered under the soft glow of hanging lanterns, the surface breaking in lazy ripples.
Her eyes caught movement — and froze.
In the far corner, half-submerged in the warm pool, sat Fleur.
Or rather, lounged. She rested against the edge, hair slicked back and darkened by water, her pale shoulders just breaking the surface. A thin curl of steam clung to her skin. She looked entirely at ease, eyes half-lidded as though she were drifting between thought and dream.
Eira's face warmed almost instantly. She wasn't unused to seeing others in the bath naked— that was inevitable here — but Fleur had a way of making the simplest things seem deliberate, almost intimate.
She took an instinctive step back toward the door, thinking she might return later, but Fleur's voice drifted across the water.
"Eira," she said, her tone smooth and faintly amused. "Leaving so soon?"
Eira stopped mid-step, her hand still on the doorframe. "I— I just forgot soap in my room," she replied quickly, keeping her eyes fixed on the tiled floor.
"Soap?" Fleur guessed, the corner of her mouth curving in the smallest smirk. "Come here. You can use mine."
Eira hesitated. Her mind gave a sharp, inward protest — You're naked and you want me to…? — but she found herself moving forward, her tray of bath items clinking softly in her hands.
As she reached the edge of the warm pool, she kept her eyes carefully averted. "Close your eyes," she said, trying for nonchalance but hearing the faint quaver in her own voice.
Fleur's laughter was soft, almost intimate, curling between them like a secret. "Oh… so shy, are we?" she murmured, her eyes glinting. "Don't worry, darling." She leaned in just enough for her perfume to brush the air between them. "Of course, princess… I wouldn't dream of looking." Her gaze lingered a heartbeat longer than necessary before she turned away with a knowing smile.
Eira was unconvinced, but Fleur obligingly turned her head away. Heart skipping uncomfortably, Eira set down her tray, slipped off her pajamas, and stepped into the water. The heat closed over her like a silken weight, drawing a sigh from her lips.
When she risked a glance, Fleur had turned back, her gaze lingering for a moment before she said, "First time using the big bath?"
"Yes," Eira admitted, moving to the opposite side of the pool. "At least… first time with someone else here. I'm used to the smaller ones."
"You'll get used to it," Fleur said lazily, dipping her hands in the water and letting it spill through her fingers. "No boys. No one here to scandalize you. Except Just me."
Eira muttered something about it still being different, which earned her another smirk. Fleur tilted her head, her eyes sharp with a knowing glint, as though she found Eira's awkwardness faintly entertaining.
They talked in fragments, the sound of water filling the quiet between them. Fleur admitted she usually came at this hour to avoid the crowd. "And now," she added, "I find you've discovered my little routine."
"I thought I'd have the place to myself," Eira said.
"You can," Fleur replied with an almost lazy smile. "I don't mind sharing."
Eira focused on washing her hair, hoping the movement would keep her from noticing the way Fleur's eyes traced her, slow and unhurried. She felt her cheeks warming again and told herself it was only the steam.
When Fleur rose from the water completely naked, the motion was unhurried, deliberate — the kind of unselfconscious grace that made Eira suddenly aware she was staring. Fleur didn't seem to care, wrapping a towel loosely around herself before gathering her things.
"I'll leave you to it," she said, pausing at the doorway. "See you at breakfast, princess."
Eira only nodded, not trusting her voice.
Alone now, she let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, muttering to herself about Fleur's infuriating composure. She rinsed the last of the shampoo from her hair, brushed her teeth, and climbed out of the pool.
Back in her room, she dried her hair with a flicker of magic, shaped it neatly, and dressed in her sky-blue uniform. A touch of perfume at her throat, and she was ready.
When she reached the breakfast hall, Fleur was already there, seated at a corner table, as though the morning's encounter hadn't happened at all.
Eira collected her tray — croissant, boiled eggs, a glass of juice — and joined her.
"You've grown," Fleur said softly after a moment, her eyes tracing Eira with quiet appraisal. "Today… I noticed. You're changing—blossoming into a woman." Her voice lingered on the last word, warm and almost tender, before she looked away with a faint smile.
Eira raised a brow. "I am thirteen now."
"Mmm." Fleur sipped her tea. "One more year."
"One more year for what?"
Fleur only smiled faintly and said, "Nothing. Just thinking."
The conversation moved on, but the undercurrent remained — that quiet, almost imperceptible pull that made Eira both curious and wary, as though she were standing at the edge of something she didn't yet have the name for.