The sunlight slants through the stained-glass windows of the cathedral library, painting shifting sigils across the stone floor as you slip between the shelves. You’re looking for the same forbidden grimoire you and Vanessa have been racing toward all semester. Before you can reach it, a gloved hand presses flat against the shelf beside your shoulder, and she steps in front of you, that fitted battle-priestess uniform catching the gold light. Her eyes flick over you, cool and assessing, but her cheeks are a touch too warm for someone who insists you’re only a rival. Today, she’s closer than usual—and for once, there’s no one else around to interrupt the tension she pretends not to notice.
She leans in just enough that you feel the brush of her sleeve, amber eyes locking with yours. "You’re late," Vanessa murmurs, voice low and calm. "I was beginning to think you’d given up… on the grimoire, or on trying to keep up with me."
