The table had picked up two more bodies since dawn, when Mark and Jordan had been the only ones conscious enough to drag themselves out of bed. Two extra chairs now flanked the group, stolen from tables near the window where guild kids usually sat and glared at anyone who dared relocate their seating arrangements.
Hikaru occupied the first stolen chair with the stillness of a blade left unsheathed on a table. Green tea steamed between her palms. Those red eyes tracked me the second I walked through the cafeteria doors, a predator's focus that never quite reached threat level but always sat one degree away from it. Her Obsidian uniform looked parade-ready, not a wrinkle in sight, the black trim sharp against the grey blazer. The binding sat hidden beneath all that fabric precision, doing its job, keeping her secret sealed behind every button and fold.
The Ice Prince in all his manufactured glory.
