Seraphina was walking around when she found William at seven forty-three in the morning, which meant she had been looking since seven-fifteen and wasn’t going to admit that to anyone.

She had a reasonable cover story prepared.

"Hey William I wanted to suggest a team coordination... no that sounds to obvious or the competition schedule."

A specific question about the survival scenario event format that she genuinely did have, though it could have waited until afternoon practice without any consequence. The cover story was fine. She had used worse.

The main training hall was empty when she checked it first. His essence signature wasn’t there — she had developed an involuntary awareness of it over months of training together, the particular quality of fire and wind that announced him like a sound just below hearing.

She noticed its absence the way you noticed a room being colder than expected.

She checked the east auxiliary hall next but it was empty.

The outdoor sparring courts were too exposed for the kind of focused solo work she expected from him, especially this close to the competition, so she skipped those and went to the secondary hall on the building’s far side, the one most students didn’t bother with because the ceiling was lower and the lighting was poor.

Finally she she found him there running forms she didn’t recognize.

She stood in the doorway for a moment without announcing herself, watching.

This had become a habit she wasn’t particularly proud of — finding reasons to observe William in motion before he knew she was there.

It was tactically justified, she told herself. Understanding how a partner moved in unguarded moments was relevant to combat coordination. She believed approximately sixty percent of this.

The forms were nothing from the academy curriculum. She knew everything in the academy curriculum.

These were structured differently — more economical than the standard sequences, no motion that didn’t connect directly to the next, and carrying the kind of weight that came from techniques designed for use rather than demonstration.

Whoever had taught him these had not been teaching him to compete.

She stepped inside and let the door close behind her.

He completed the sequence before he turned which he always did. She had noticed early on that William did not stop what he was doing when interrupted — he finished, then responded. It had annoyed her initially. Now she found it hard to imagine him any other way.

"You’re back," she said. It came out more simply than she had intended.

"Five days ago."

"I know when you came back." She crossed the hall toward him, not hurrying, keeping her stride even. Her leg pulled slightly at the outer edge of the movement — the wolf bite was healing well but had not finished healing, and footwork drills at six in the morning had not been the most medically sound decision she had made recently. "I’ve seen you at practice. I’m not talking about that."

William watched her approach with the expression she had spent months learning to read, which was not the same as an expression that was easy to read. He was present. He was thinking. Whatever he was thinking he was keeping, which was his default state, which was one of the more consistently frustrating things about him and also, if she was being honest with herself, one of the things that held her attention.

"You want to talk," he said.

"I want a lot of things. Talking is one of them." She stopped at a comfortable distance and looked at him directly. "How was your family visit. Actually."

"Complicated."

"You’ve said that. I’m asking for the version with content."

Something shifted in his expression — not much, but she had learned to read small. He was deciding how much to give her. She recognized the calculation because she did it herself, though she suspected their thresholds were set differently.

"My sister was kidnapped," he said. "Mercenaries hired to force me out of the competition. I tracked them and got her back. My mother then spent three days teaching me techniques that aren’t in any curriculum." A pause. "And giving me information about who might be behind the attempts on my life."

Seraphina absorbed this without breaking eye contact. The kidnapping landed harder than she let show. She had known something significant had happened during his absence — the way he moved was different, calibrated differently, the way people moved when they had recently been in genuine danger rather than simulated danger. She had identified the change. She had not correctly identified the cause.

"Is your sister alright?"

"Recovering."

"And the mercenaries?"

"Not a concern anymore."

She accepted that answer for what it was. "What did your mother find out."

"That the Hollow Court is likely involved. That someone with significant resources and a long timeline has been running multiple operations simultaneously. That it may connect to my father." He said the last part the same way he said everything, which was level, which she had learned did not mean it cost him nothing. "Kai was approached by the Hollow Court during the expedition. The same organization."

"I know," she said. "I was there."

"I know you were there. I’m telling you it connects."

Seraphina was quiet for a moment. She had spent five days with questions she hadn’t asked directly because William had been present only at practice, focused and purposeful and giving nothing that wasn’t relevant to footwork or coordination drills, and she had not wanted to pull at him in front of others. She had not wanted to pull at him at all, if she was being honest, because pulling at William Cross felt like a good way to watch him close off completely and she had gotten further than that and wasn’t willing to go back.

"You were going to tell me this," she said. It wasn’t a question.

"This morning, yes. Kai and I were going to find you after training."

"I found you first."

"You found me first," he agreed, and something about the way he said it — not quite dry, not quite warm, that specific register that was only his — made the distance between them feel like a deliberate thing she was choosing to maintain rather than a natural fact.

She was not particularly interested in maintaining it.

"The competition is in five days," she said.

"Yes."

"After which everything apparently escalates. According to you."

"According to the pattern, yes."

"So we have five days of relative stability in which to prepare for escalation, coordinate with each other, and participate in a multi-academy event with thousands of people and spread-out security coverage." Seraphina tilted her head slightly. "That’s a significant amount to manage."

"It is."

"And we’re going to manage it."

"We are."

She looked at him for a moment. The low morning light in the hall was unflattering in the way that honest light was unflattering — it showed everything without softening it, and what it showed was someone who was tired in a way that practice alone didn’t account for, and carrying weight in a way that was so habitual he probably didn’t notice it anymore, and looking at her with an attention that was complete and uncomplicated and which she found, every single time, more difficult to look away from than she planned.

She closed the remaining distance between them.

She kissed him the same way she behaved with most things without announcing it first, directly, and with clear intent.

His response was a half-second behind hers, which was the delay of someone surprised, and then not delayed at all, which was the response of someone who had been thinking about it too.

It lasted long enough to be unambiguous about what it was.

When she pulled back she stayed close, near enough that she could read his expression at a range where he couldn’t quite compose it before she saw it. What she saw was something she filed carefully away — not performed, not calculated, just present, just him.

"Seraphina," he said.

"Don’t," she said, not unkindly. "Not yet. Whatever you’re about to reason through can wait until after the competition." She stepped back to a normal distance, settled back into her own posture, and looked at him with the steadiness she had learned to maintain over things that were actually moving underneath. "Right now we have training, and then you and Kai are going to tell me everything properly. All of it."

William looked at her for a long moment.

"All of it," he said.

"All of it," she confirmed.

She turned toward the weapons rack and selected a practice sword, and behind her she heard him exhale, slow and quiet, in the way that people exhaled when something they had been holding without realizing finally had somewhere to go.

"Standard rules?" he asked.

"No rules," she said, and turned back to face him. "We’re running low on time for standard."

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