[Enid's POV]

  I wake up at six bells with my mind already racing through alchemy problems that kept me up half the night. The transmutation sequence Professor Moonwhisper assigned isn't working the way the textbook says it should, and I've been stuck on step three for two days now. If I don't figure it out soon, I'll fall behind, and that'll just give more ammunition to the people who already think I don't belong here.

  I get dressed quickly, just my plain Academy robes, my hair in a simple braid, nothing fancy like the other noble daughters do because I don't have time and, to be honest, I don't care. I'm heading to Professor Moonwhisper's office at seven bells, hoping to catch her before morning classes start.

  Her office door is closed. I knock, wait, and then knock again. Nothing.

  "She's not there," a passing sixth-year says without stopping. "I saw her heading toward the old alchemy wing about twenty minutes ago."

  The old alchemy wing. That's on the opposite side of campus, the section they use for advanced practical work and private tutoring. I head that way, navigating corridors that get progressively less populated until I'm in areas most students don't visit regularly.

  I ask a few more people—a janitor who points vaguely east, a third-year who thinks maybe she saw Professor Moonwhisper near classroom 3-B—and finally I'm standing outside a door where I can hear voices inside.

  Perfect. She must be meeting with another student.

  I knock once and push the door open. "Professor Moonwhisper, I'm sorry to bother you, but I have some questions about—"

  I freeze.

  There are six people in the room. Professor Moonwhisper is standing at the front near a blackboard covered in what looks like organizational charts. Professor Sinclair is there as well, leaning against a desk. A young student I sort of recognize from second year. Sebas the gardener, which is strange because what would a gardener be doing in an academic meeting? And then there's Mika from the library... my friend Mika, who's always so kind when I need help finding books.

  And right in the middle of it all, sitting in a chair like she owns the place, is Nyx Shadowmere.

  The new transfer student. The half-demon girl who got harassed by Penelope's faction. The one who somehow made the entire Traditionalist group start avoiding her.

  She's sitting there, and everyone else is positioned around her like she's important. It's almost like she's leading the meeting. Professor Moonwhisper has her hand on Nyx's shoulder, and it almost looks like she's showing some deference.

  What is this?

  They all look at me, and the silence is immediate and heavy.

  "Oh!" I say, backing away from the door. "I'm sorry! Wrong room! I was looking for Professor Moonwhisper for some library research questions, but clearly this is a bad time!"

  I close the door and walk away as fast as I can without actually running, my heart pounding in my chest.

  What was that? What did I just see?

  Nyx Shadowmere in what looked like a secret meeting with faculty and staff. With Mika. With people who have no obvious connection to each other except they were all arranged around that small demon girl like she was someone powerful.

  Is this about Penelope? Is Nyx planning something against the Traditionalists? That would make sense... she was harassed, she has House Montclair's backing, maybe she's building some kind of resistance or political counter-movement.

  But why would Professor Moonwhisper be involved? She's Vice Headmaster, she should be neutral in student politics. Unless House Montclair has more influence than I thought. Unless there's some connection between Shadowmere and the Academy administration that I'm not aware of.

  And Mika was there. Sweet, quiet Mika who's never mentioned being involved in anything political. Does she have a grudge against Penelope too? Did something happen that I don't know about?

  I need to talk to Mika.

  I change direction and head toward the library, practically running now, my mind spinning with possibilities and theories and that strange image of Nyx Shadowmere sitting in that chair like a queen holding court.

  ***

  [Nyx's POV]

  I get back to room 347 still processing what just happened—about the demon conspiracy meeting, Enid walking in, and the absolute disaster this is turning into—and find Freya and Maribel in the middle of what appears to be an actual argument.

  "Your system is making it hard for me to get to my stuff," Freya says, sounding frustrated.

  "Your stuff was all over the place, and it was messing with people's ability to study," Maribel says, totally unfazed.

  "They were organized by my system!"

  "Your system was chaotic."

  "It was functional for me!"

  "Objective measures disagree."

  I close the door, and they both turn to look at me like I'm supposed to solve this.

  "Don't drag me into whatever this is," I say immediately.

  "Maribel reorganized my desk without asking," Freya says.

  "Freya's materials were invading the shared space, and that's against the rules," Maribel said.

  "You moved my books!"

  "Your books were all jumbled up in ways that didn't follow any kind of logical layout.

  "They were fine!"

  "They were a risk of collapse!"

  I look between them and realize this is one of those roommate conflicts that has no good resolution. It's just two people with completely incompatible approaches to existing in shared space.

  This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  "Can you compromise?" I try.

  "I'm willing to accept a modified organizational protocol if Freya agrees to maintain minimum standards—"

  "I'm not going to agree to standards that make me ask for permission to access my own stuff!"

  "That's not what I said—"

  "That's exactly what you said!"

  "Mischaracterization of my position—"

  "Stop using academic language to avoid admitting you're being controlling!"

  I grab my bag. "You know what, I have class. You two work this out. Or don't. Whatever."

  "Nyx, you can't just leave—"

  "Watch me."

  I escape into the corridor and head toward Professor Thorne's Magical Theory class, grateful for an excuse to avoid roommate drama. The classroom is already half full when I get there, students settling into their usual seats, and I notice Enid right away.

  She's sitting in her usual spot near the front, but a bit isolated. When I walk past her, she looks at me. Like she assessing me.

  I take my seat in the Independent section and catch her stealing another glance my direction. I look away, pretending to sort my notes, and feel her attention shift back to the front.

  This is fine. Everything's fine. She just saw me in a weird meeting with faculty and staff, and Mika is her friend, so presumably Mika told her something to explain it that doesn't involve "actually we're all demons plotting against humanity."

  Professor Thorne enters and launches into lecture about advanced mana manipulation theory, and I try to focus on taking notes despite knowing Enid is periodically looking my direction.

  Class proceeds normally—or as normally as anything proceeds when you're hyperaware of being observed. Professor Thorne calls on me once to demonstrate a mana-shaping exercise and I perform it competently but not exceptionally, the usual balance I'm trying to maintain.

  When class ends I'm gathering my materials when I hear her voice.

  "Miss Shadowmere?"

  I turn, and there's Enid, hands on her books, looking nervous but determined.

  "Yeah?"

  "Could we talk? Privately?"

  Oh no.

  "About what?"

  "About... what I saw this morning. And some things Mika told me." She glances around at other students filing out. "Maybe somewhere less public?"

  "I have another class—"

  "Please. It's important."

  She looks genuinely anxious, and I remember that she's caught in her own political nightmare with the prince and Penelope. Whatever she thinks she saw, she's probably trying to figure out if it'll help or hurt her.

  "Fine. There's a café near campus, right? We can talk there."

  Relief crosses her face. "Thank you."

  We walk in awkward silence through corridors and out the main gate, heading toward the small commercial district that serves Academy students. The café is called "The Gilded Spoon," which is a bit pretentious name I almost laugh, but the inside is actually quite nice. It's got wooden tables, comfortable chairs, and the smell of coffee and baked goods. I can't help but remember that I barely ate breakfast when I smell that.

  We sit in a corner booth and a server appears immediately.

  "What can I get you ladies?"

  I look at the menu and my brain short-circuits slightly. They actually have lattes here. And pastries that look professionally made. And something called "honey-rose tea" that sounds both fancy and potentially delicious.

  "I'll have the honey-rose tea and one of those almond croissants," I say.

  "Same," Enid adds.

  The server leaves, and we sit in silence while I mentally calculate how much this is going to cost and whether I can justify the expense. Probably fine since I have House Montclair's stipend and I'm supposedly minor nobility who can afford cafe visits without stress, but the freelancer instinct of tracking every expense is hard to shake.

  The tea arrives quickly—delicate porcelain cups with actual honey and rose petals arranged artistically—and the croissants are still warm from the oven. I take a bite and have to suppress the urge to make appreciative noises because wow, this is good. The layers are flaky, the almond paste filling is perfect, and the sweetness is just right... without being cloying.

  Enid is watching me with a small smile. "You really like food."

  "I really like good food. There's a difference."

  "Fair enough." She takes a sip of her tea, then puts the cup down carefully. "Mika already told me."

  My stomach drops. "Told you what?"

  She hesitates, then looks at me directly. "About the Secret Underground Resistance against the Traditionalist faction."

  I blink. "What?"

  "The resistance. The group you're organizing with Professor Moonwhisper's help, using House Montclair's support to build opposition to Penelope's faction." She's speaking quickly now, words tumbling out. "Mika explained that you were harassed by the Traditionalists and decided to fight back, that you're gathering people who've been hurt by their policies, that the meeting this morning was planning coordination—"

  "Wait, wait, wait." I hold up my hand. "Mika told you I'm running a resistance movement?"

  "Yes? She said you've been recruiting people, that Professor Moonwhisper is supporting it because she agrees the Traditionalist faction has too much power, that House Montclair is providing political cover—"

  Oh Mika. That's actually a pretty good lie. Completely fabricated, but it explains the meeting without revealing actual demon conspiracy. I'm almost impressed.

  But it also creates a whole new problem.

  "And you believe this?" I ask carefully.

  "Why wouldn't I? It makes sense. You were bullied, you have resources and backing, you're clearly powerful enough to make them afraid of you." She leans forward. "And I understand why you'd do it. The Traditionalists have controlled Academy politics for too long. They make life miserable for anyone who doesn't fit their definition of proper nobility."

  "So you think I'm organizing political resistance."

  "Yes."

  "As a transfer student who's been here less than two weeks."

  "With Vice Headmaster support and House Montclair sponsorship, yes."

  I take a bite of croissant while trying to figure out how to handle this. If I deny it, she'll wonder why Mika lied. If I confirm it, I'll be committing to maintaining a fake resistance movement on top of everything else. Either option is complicated.

  "Why does this matter to you?" I ask instead.

  She takes a breath, and I can see her gathering courage. "Because I want to join."

  "What?"

  "I want to join the resistance. Please." Her hands are shaking slightly around her teacup. "I'm so tired of being isolated. Of watching Penelope and her faction harass people and knowing I can't do anything because fighting back just makes it worse. If there's a group working to change things, I want to help."

  Oh no. Oh, this is bad.

  "Enid—"

  "I know I'm not powerful. I know my position with the prince makes me a liability. But I have information, I have access to circles you don't, and I'm willing to work for this." She's looking at me with desperate hope. "Please. Let me do something instead of just surviving."

  I stare at her and think about how absolutely fucked this situation has become. The probable protagonist of this world's story just asked to join my fake resistance movement that's actually a cover story for a demon conspiracy I accidentally became the figurehead of.

  And I have no idea what to say.

  "I... need to think about this," I manage.

  "Of course. I understand it's a security risk—"

  "Nah, it's not that. It's just complicated."

  "I can handle complicated things."

  "This is really complicated."

  "I still want to try."

  She's so earnest. So determined. So completely unaware that what she's asking to join is about seventeen layers more problematic than she realizes.

  I take another sip of tea that I can barely taste anymore and wish desperately that I was literally anywhere else dealing with literally any other problem.

  "Let me talk to the others," I say finally. "This isn't just my decision to make."

  "Others meaning Professor Moonwhisper and—"

  "The others. I'll let you know."

  "Thank you. Really, thank you for even considering—"

  "Don't thank me yet. This might be a terrible idea."

  "It might be the best idea I've had in months."

  …

  Fuck my life.