Evaline:
Monday mornings at the academy had their own rhythm.
Structured.
Predictable.
Almost comforting.
By the time I walked into the first lecture hall for Werewolf History and Politics, the familiar scent of parchment, ink, and polished wood had already started settling my mind into student mode.
Mallory dropped dramatically into the seat beside me.
"If Professor Elira starts talking about the Treaty of Northern Territories again," she whispered, "I might actually die."
"You said that last time," I murmured back.
"And I meant it."
Noah leaned over from behind us.
"You didn't die," he said. "You snored."
"I do not snore!"
"You do," Rowan added from the other side aisle without even turning around.
Mallory glared at both of them.
I bit my lip, trying not to laugh as the professor entered the hall.
The lecture began.
