Beatrice barely had time to catch her breath. One moment, she was being examined like a rare artefact by Levi, and the next, she was being dragged down the main hall by a very hyper, very emotional Isabel.
"I've already planned your whole schedule," Isabel was saying with bright eyes and wild hand gestures. "You'll bunk with me—unless you want the corner cot. Farlan tried to claim it, but I'll arm wrestle him for it—and I saved you a hook for your cloak, and there's a hidden stash of jam under the floorboards in the mess hall, and—"
"Wait, jam?" Beatrice managed between breaths.
"Focus! This is the important stuff, Bea!"
They turned a sharp corner—and nearly crashed into someone rounding the other way.
"Whoa—!"
Farlan steadied both girls in one fluid motion, his hands instinctively gripping Beatrice's arms. "Easy there. You alright?"
Beatrice nodded, slightly breathless. "Hi, Farlan."
He smiled. And it was soft. So soft.
"You look different," he said, still holding her elbows just a second longer than necessary. "Not in a bad way. Just… like the wait is finally over."
Beatrice blinked, surprised by the way her chest fluttered at his tone.
"Welcome..." he added more quietly, eyes crinkling.
Behind them, Isabel made a dramatic gagging sound.
"Oh my god. We're not even two minutes into the tour, and you're already flirting. I'm going to punch something."
"I wasn't flirting," Farlan said quickly, stepping back with a sheepish grin.
"You were practically proposing," Isabel muttered, grabbing Beatrice's wrist again and storming down the corridor. "Come on, before he starts composing poetry."
"Hey!" Farlan called after them, "I wrote that one poem one time!"
"You tried to rhyme 'albinism' with 'prism!'"
Beatrice was giggling before she realised it.
The barracks were larger than she expected. Cleaner. There was a long training hall with padded walls, an armoury that smelled like fresh oil, and a common room full of worn couches and mismatched bookshelves. Isabel showed her all of it—like a tour guide hopped up on sugar and sunshine.
"This is the east wing," Isabel continued, waving dramatically toward the hallway of sleeping quarters. "I already cleaned your bunk. Well… I moved my laundry off it. That's basically cleaning."
Beatrice chuckled. "Thanks, Isabel."
"Oh, and the best part—" Isabel yanked open the last door and stepped onto a sun-drenched balcony overlooking the western forests. "This is where we sneak snacks and have top-secret late-night heart-to-hearts."
Beatrice stepped out beside her, awed. The forest stretched endlessly, and the breeze carried the smell of pine and smoke. It was peaceful in a way that made her chest ache.
Isabel leaned on the railing. "I missed you."
"I missed you too."
"I mean, Levi tried, y'know? He was moody and snappy and wore that cravat like it had healing powers, but…" Isabel glanced sideways. "He only looked alive when your letters came."
Beatrice went quiet.
Isabel grinned. "So. Just so you know—you're kind of important to us."
Beatrice's cheeks turned pink. "I… didn't know."
"You better catch up fast, little moonlight." Isabel bumped her shoulder. "People are waiting for you."
At that moment, Farlan came around the corner with a plate of something suspiciously berry-colored.
"I figured you might want something sweet after the long trip," he said, holding it out to her. "Don't ask where I got it."
Beatrice took the plate with a soft laugh. "I already know it's jam from under the floorboards."
"...Damn it, Isabel."
She just smirked and folded her arms.
Beatrice sat down on the bench near the railing, the plate in her lap, the sunlight catching on her hair. She took a bite of the berry tart and sighed contentedly.
Farlan sat beside her, just a little too close. Isabel leaned against the rail, watching them with narrowed eyes and a mischievous smirk. And behind them, unnoticed in the hallway's shadow, stood Levi.
Cravat perfectly tied. Hands in his pockets.
Watching.
Quiet.
His eyes flicked to Farlan's proximity.
His jaw ticked.
Then he turned and walked away without a word.