Captain Morris arrived every early in the morning.
William heard her before she appeared — the particular cadence of boots on corridor stone that moved with military purpose and didn't adjust for the acoustic environment.
Captain Morris had spent enough years in situations where announcing yourself early was a liability that the habit had apparently become permanent.
She stopped in the doorway and took in the room in one sweep. Henrik in his bed. Three students arranged in the particular configuration of people who had been waiting and were trying not to look like it. The folder on the bedside table. The message crystal.
Her expression didn't change.
"Henrik," she said.
"Elara," he said. "Close the door."
