Within the week, the administrator said. Three days ago. She could show up in an hour or four more days and we have no way of knowing, so we’re all just sitting here, waiting for our lives to change.
I look at my phone. Something about resonance signatures. I’ve read the same paragraph six times.
Then I feel it.
A pull. Low in my chest, like a hook catching on something I didn’t know was there. I look up, out the window, and my hands go still.
Two figures on the path. Still far, just past the eastern quad. One walks like she knows exactly where she’s going.
The other one is small. Silver-blonde hair catching the light.
I’m on my feet before I decide to stand. The phone hits the floor but I’m already at the glass, palm flat against it like I could reach through.
She’s too far to see clearly. I can’t make out her face, can’t tell if she’s scared or angry or calm.
It doesn’t matter. My whole body already knows.
Her.
“Kyron?”
Rane’s voice. I don’t turn around.
“Kyron, what—”
“Window. Now.”
I hear him get up. Cross the room. He stops beside me, follows my gaze.
“Holy shit.” Barely a breath. “Is that—”
“Yeah.”
“That’sher?”
“Yeah.”
And then they’re all there. I don’t know who moved first, but suddenly it’s all five of us pressed against the glass like idiots, watching a woman we’ve never met walk up a path.
“She’s early,” Vaelor says. His voice is rough.
“She’s here.” I can’t look away from her. “That’s what matters.”
She’s closer now. I can see the way she holds herself—shoulders tight, drawn in. The way her head moves, scanning buildings like she’s mapping exits. The way she stays behind the other woman instead of beside her.
“She’s scared,” Vaelor says quietly.
“She’s careful,” Beckett murmurs. “There’s a difference.”
“Is there?”
“Fear is reactive. That’s not reactive. Look at how she moves.”
I’m looking. I can’t stop looking.
She’s close enough now that I can see her face—pale, guarded, giving nothing away—and I’m already wondering what it would take to make her smile.
“You’re staring,” Beckett says.
