"Ouch." She takes a bite of her sandwich. "You going to survive it?"
"Don't have much choice."
She nods and goes back to her reading. I'm grateful she doesn't push it, doesn't make it into something it's not. We eat in comfortable silence for a while and then she says, "Oh, you're not going to believe what happened in Shifter Biology yesterday."
"What?"
"Some first-year asked Ms. Rivera if wolves could get hiccups." She's grinning now. "Like, genuinely wanted to know. And Rivera just stood there processing the question and then she smiled. Like a real smile. I didn't know her face could do that."
"Can they get hiccups?"
"Nobody knows! That's what made it perfect!" Lily's laughing. I'm laughing too. For a moment we're just two normal girls having lunch and talking about something stupid.
Then I see Sera Whitlock walking past our table with three other senior girls, and the moment breaks.
Sera doesn't stop but she slows down just enough to make it intent, and one of the girls with her says something I can't quite hear and they all laugh. Sera's eyes cut to me for just a second and then away again, dismissive.
I look back at my food and Lily reaches across the table and squeezes my hand once before letting go.
"Ignore them," she says quietly.
"I'm trying."
I don't remember the walk from the dining hall to Biology. I just know that one moment I'm staring at the remains of a meal I barely touched, and the next I'm watching Rivera draw pack hierarchy diagrams on the board, the dull ache in my cracked ribs pulsing in time with the scrape of her chalk. I press my palm against my ribs under the table and try to focus, but the pull from the corridor is still sitting in my chest, quieter now but present, like a note held too long after the instrument stops. I've been registering it all morning without meaning to. The way it arrives before I see him. The way it fades but never fully goes. The way it's different from ordinary awareness of another person, more physical, more involuntary, more like something happening to me than something I'm doing.
"Miss Bardot." Rivera's voice. I look up. "Can you tell me the primary difference between inherited alpha status and earned alpha status?"
I stand. "Inherited status comes from bloodline, ma'am. It's passed down through family lines regardless of individual capability. Earned status comes from challenge and combat, proving dominance within the pack structure."
"Correct. And which system is more common in modern Council-sanctioned packs?"
"Inherited, ma'am. The Council prefers bloodline succession because it's more stable and predictable."
"Good." She nods and moves on.
After class she stops me at the door. "Nova, can I have a moment?"
The room empties around us.
"I heard about the chapel," she says quietly. "I can't do anything official about it but if you need someone to talk to, my office is open. Third floor, west wing."
"Thank you, ma'am."
"I mean it." She touches my shoulder briefly. "You're doing well in this class. Don't let them take that from you."
She leaves. I stand in the empty room for a moment with that small warmth before the weight of the rest of the day presses back in.
My legs are shaking by the time I reach the training hall. Because I haven't shifted yet I'm forced to sit out the drills, which means my only job is to sink onto the cold metal of the observation bench and try to keep my eyes open while the rest of the room spars. I've been on it every session since I arrived, watching the others move, taking notes on footwork and transitions and the way their wolves carry themselves differently than their human forms, faster, more economical, less self-conscious.
Today the main ring has Knox Wilson paired against a fourth-year who has won every drill I've seen him in. The fourth-year is good. Moves with easy confidence. When Professor Crosssignals the start I lean forward slightly because I want to see how this goes.
What follows is efficient and brutal and over fast. Knox doesn't fight the way anyone else in that room fights. He doesn't establish tempo or probe for weakness. He just responds, differently every time, no pattern you can read, and when the fourth-year finally shows hesitation in his face Knox is already moving into the gap it created.
Clean takedown. The fourth-year hits the mat.
Cross blows her whistle. "Reset."
The third exchange is when everything changes.
