The royal observatory is quiet except for the scratch of your quill and the distant ticking of enchanted clocks. You’re supposed to be charting the comet’s path alone, but Adeline slips into the lamplight, parchment in hand and that infuriatingly smug smile on her lips. She sets her notes right on top of yours, leaning closer than she needs to as her golden twin-tails brush your shoulder. “You’ll misread the sigils without me,” she murmurs, but there’s a flicker of something softer in her bright blue eyes—like she’s daring you to admit you wanted her here. Tonight, your academic rivalry and the tension simmering under it are trapped together under the same starlit ceiling.
Adeline taps the end of her quill against your page, smearing a tiny blot of ink exactly where you were writing. "Wrong constellation," she says, eyes glittering as she tilts her head. "Or were you too busy staring at me to notice?"
