Isabel's POV
When I wake up, it takes me a second to realize I'm not in my dorm. The ceiling is unfamiliar-smooth and dark, lit softly by the morning light bleeding through half-shut curtains. The air smells faintly of rosewater and ink.
Right. Enid and Wednesday's room.
More importantly-Wednesday let me stay. Again.
I shift under the blanket. Fluffy. Pink. Definitely Enid's doing.
Or Wednesday's.
That thought makes something in my chest do a full gymnastics routine.
I sit up slowly, brushing my fingers through my tangled hair, trying not to glance too quickly toward the desk. But I do. Obviously.
Wednesday's already there. Of course she is. She's dressed like she never slept-dark blouse, boots laced to kill, braids perfectly in place. Her fingers clack against the typewriter, but I know she's aware I'm awake.
She doesn't look at me, but she speaks. "You drooled less this time."
"Oh, thank god," I murmur. "I was worried I might ruin your perception of me."
"It's intact," she replies, still not looking. "Mostly."
Mostly.
I bite down a smile and stretch my arms above my head. "So... how'd I end up here again? Last thing I remember is you threatening to hex me if I tripped another mirror trap."
"You fell asleep before the checkpoint review. Enid insisted we bring you back. I considered leaving you on a bench, but apparently that would've been 'emotionally unavailable' of me."
"God forbid." I swing my legs over the side of the bed. "You'd hate to develop a reputation."
Now she glances over her shoulder. "I already have one."
"And yet, here I am. Alive, un-hexed, and covered in a pastel blanket."
She stands then, crossing the room. "You're not completely insufferable."
"Wow. That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me before breakfast."
Before she can answer, the door swings open.
Enter Enid Sinclair: Sparkle incarnate.
She gasps like she just walked in on a murder-or worse, someone wearing brown with black. "Oh. My. Gosh."
"What," I deadpan.
"You slept here again?!"
Wednesday sighs like she's physically allergic to Enid's volume. "Technically."
"And you're still alive?" Enid's eyes flick between us, suspiciously wide. "Did you guys make out and forget to tell me?"
I blink. "What-no!"
Wednesday just returns to her typewriter, unbothered. "That would imply I was willing to put my mouth near hers."
"You say that," I mutter, standing up, "but you did let me stay. Again."
"Out of convenience."
Enid lets out a dramatic gasp. "This is literally the plot of a slow-burn dark-academia lesbian romance. You realize that, right?"
Wednesday speaks without turning. "If you assign our interactions to fanfiction tropes again, I'll hex your lip gloss to taste like anchovies."
Enid grins like she's just won the lottery. "So you're not denying the lesbian part."
I freeze halfway through tying my boots.
Neither of us says anything.
Enid narrows her eyes, then claps her hands together. "I knew it! I knew it! The gay tension is thick enough to cut with a werewolf claw!"
"I'm going to strangle you with your own glitter scrunchie," I mutter.
She flounces across the room and plops on her bed, kicking her heels. "You're both broody, emotionally repressed, and weirdly obsessed with each other's routines. You're made for each other."
"I'm not obsessed," I snap too quickly.
Wednesday's typewriter clicks pause.
Enid smirks. "You brought her coffee this morning."
"I brought everyone coffee-"
"There were two cups."
I groan. "You're impossible."
"You're in love."
I throw a pillow at her face. She catches it mid-air with wolf reflexes and hugs it like a trophy.
Wednesday types again, but not as fast. Not as sharp.
That's when I know she's listening.
⸻
Later That Morning
Nevermore's quad is buzzing-students in clusters, gossip swirling like autumn wind. Trial survivors are being treated like B-list celebrities. I spot Xavier brooding near the fencing shed, sketchbook open, glancing up every few seconds like he's waiting for someone to walk by and validate his romantic delusions.
I avoid eye contact.
Enid's skipping beside me, still glowing with matchmaking pride. "So, what did Wednesday say when you asked her to be your partner? Did she hesitate? Did she sigh dramatically and say something like 'Fine, but only because your death would be inconvenient to witness?'"
"Honestly," I say, "it was more like 'Don't push your luck.' But then she didn't say no."
"Which means she wanted to."
"Which means she didn't not want to," I counter, because I'm still processing whatever the hell she meant last night when she told me I had a chance.
Enid giggles. "I give it three more nights before one of you kisses the other."
"Yeah, right. Maybe in your Wattpad head."
"You already dreamt about her."
"I did not!"
"You said 'Wednesday, don't look at me like that' in your sleep."
I stop walking. "You're lying."
"I literally recorded it. Want me to play it for her?"
I lunge for her phone. She screams and bolts.
⸻
Wednesday's POV
Enid's voice travels through the hallway, followed by thunderous footsteps and Isabel yelling something about legally binding gag orders.
I don't look up from my manuscript. But I do listen.
They sound alive.
Annoying, yes. Chaotic. But also... grounding. Like background noise I've secretly come to rely on.
The raven taps at my window again. Always at the same time. Like it's trained.
It drops a single black feather on the sill and waits.
"You're early," I say.
It cocks its head like it understands.
I reach for the letter tied to its leg and open it carefully. Inside: a sealed note from my mother. No doubt another passive-aggressive reminder that my extracurriculars reflect poorly on the Addams name.
I crumple it, toss it in the bin.
The raven doesn't leave.
Instead, it hops to the edge of my desk and stares at the words I've just typed.
"She moved through the maze like a flame disguised as a girl, untouchable and bright enough to burn."
I backspace the line.
Twice.
Then re-type it.
⸻
Isabel's POV
I'm halfway through lunch when Xavier finally corners me, sliding onto the bench beside me with a pout.
"What," I say, chewing deliberately.
"You and Wednesday?"
"Try again."
"You ditched me to partner with her during the Trials."
"You're not entitled to my trauma bonding schedule, Xavier."
He frowns. "You like her."
"What's your point?"
"I liked her first."
"Okay, preschool logic."
"She's weird."
"I'm aware."
He stares at me. "Does she like you back?"
I don't answer.
Because the truth is-I don't know. Not for sure. But I know what it felt like when she brushed my hand in the mirror maze. When she let me stay. When she said I had a chance.
That means something.
Right?
⸻
Later That Night
I return to the dorm late. Enid's out, probably with Ajax. The lights are low. Wednesday's still up, typing. Her eyes flick toward me as I enter, then quickly back.
"Hi," I say, voice quieter than usual.
"You're late."
"Had to help Xavier with something."
I wait.
A flicker crosses her face. Barely there.
Jealousy?
Please?
"I see," she murmurs, but it sounds hollow. Mechanical.
I cross the room slowly and sit on Enid's bed, facing her. "Do you?"
She doesn't answer.
I press. "You said I had a chance. I've been thinking about that."
Silence. The tension coils like a snake between us.
"Do I?" I ask again.
Wednesday stops typing.
And turns.
Very slowly.
"You ask too many questions," she says, eyes unreadable.
"You avoid too many answers."
We stare at each other. The air is thick with everything we're not saying.
And then-finally-her voice drops.
"You do."