Page 59 of Kingmakers, Year Two

The couch fills up with half-drunk students. Cat tries to perch on a stack of filing boxes instead. The boxes tip over and she tumbles onto the floor, papers spilling everywhere.

I run over to help her up.

“I’m fine,” Cat says, face as scarlet as the punch. “You keep dancing. I’m not hurt, just clumsy.”

I help her scoop the papers back into the boxes, though it hardly matters. Everything on that side of the stable is trash, as faras I can see. Stored and forgotten, with no chance of being recovered again.

When we’ve cleaned up the mess, Cat says, “I’m pretty tired. I think I’m gonna head back to the Undercroft.”

“I’ll take you,” I say.

“I can go alone.” Cat shakes her head. Her whiskers have smeared across her face so she looks more like a chimney sweep than a kitten, but still completely adorable.

“No, I’m going with you. It’s not safe to be alone in the dark,” I say firmly.

I know Cat is making her own way at Kingmakers as best she can, but it’s late at night, and Rocco and his friends might be lurking around, pissed about being banned from the party.

“I’ll take her,” Hedeon says unexpectedly. “I’m gonna head to bed, too.”

“Are you sure?” I ask. Hedeon’s not one to offer a favor, generally speaking.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Hedeon says irritably. “I wouldn’t have said it otherwise.”

I look to Cat to see if she’s comfortable with this.

“Alright, thank you,” she says to Hedeon.

Anna and Leo are still dancing, though Anna is tipsy enough that it looks more like swaying, with Leo half holding her up. Ozzy and Chay have disappeared. Matteo passed out on the dusty green sofa.

Now that I’ve been pulled back to reality, I’m realizing I should probably go to bed myself, before my inhibitions sink any lower.

“I think I’ll head out, too,” I say to Miles.

“I’ll walk you,” he replies, not trying to argue with me.

We leave alongside Hedeon and Cat, the four of us sticking together until we reach the junction point where Cat needs to head south toward the Undercroft, and I go north to the Solar.

The night air is crisp and windless. Only a few lights shine out from the windows of Kingmakers, allowing the blanket of stars overhead to glitter dense and brilliant. Hedeon looks up into the sky moodily, ignoring Cat now that they’re not dancing anymore.

Cat is so exhausted she can barely walk straight. Her classes are hard on her. She’s not used to this level of activity every day. Besides Combat, Stealth, and Environmental Adaptation, which can all be extremely physical, the conditioning classes require us to go for long cross-country runs down in the River Bottoms, as well as grueling workouts in the gym. Even Marksmanship classes are strenuous—my hands and arms ache after a long session of shooting.

I give Cat a quick hug as we part ways, saying, “Sleep in tomorrow if you can.”

She nods sleepily.

I watch her and Hedeon walk away, ensuring that Hedeon stays right by her.

Then it’s just me and Miles, alone on the dark, empty campus.

Somehow this feels even more intimate than dancing pressed tight together.

I’m shy, all of a sudden.

Miles breaks the silence between us.

“Did you make those?” He nods toward my paper wings, composed of hundreds of individually-cut feathers, each with its own unique design, like a snowflake.

“Not a chance,” I say. “That was all Cat. She’s so artistic. She was supposed to go to art school this year, before I fucked it up.”

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