Dixon climbed through the window and hopped down to the floor on light feet. The room was dark but Wil saw him clearly in the dim light. He sat cross-legged atop his bed and set his book down beside the flickering candle on his side table as Dixon kicked off his boots and shrugged his satchel off his shoulder.

They were sixteen, in their seventh year at the Venandi. Though it was far past curfew, Wil waited up for his friend. Partially to keep watch for any roaming Masters checking the dormitories, but mostly to find out about the time Dixon spent outside the walls of the witch hunters’ order.

“I come bearin’ gifts,” Dixon said. He reached into his satchel and pulled out a bottle of wine and a bundle of bread and cheese wrapped up in a cloth.

Wil grinned and stepped down from his bed, crossing the room as Dixon divided some of the bread and cheese between them. The pair had a couple glasses in a drawer, swiped from the dining hall, and Wil poured them each a glass of wine from the bottle.

“Cheers,” Dixon said, and they clinked their glasses together. Wil returned to his bed with his glass and handful of food—it was much better than the bland but nutritious stuff served to the apprentices of the Venandi. The boys were silent for a few moments as they ate.

Well? Are you going to keep me waiting forever? Wil signed, setting down his glass. How’s Narah?

Finishing his food and drink, Dixon grinned and collapsed onto his bed with a contented sigh. His long legs hung off the edge, swinging idly as he lay on his back. “She’s class,” he said, signing his words as he spoke them. “We sat by the river and talked. And other things. She brought the wine and food.”

Send her my thanks, then. You still haven’t told me what she looks like, though, Wil signed, giving his friend an admonishing look.

“Sure I have,” Dixon said. “She’s bonnie.”

Wil rolled his eyes. No one in our class has seen a girl since we got here, he signed. You’ve got to give me more to go on.

Dixon flipped him his middle finger, and Wil flipped it back, more from muscle memory rather than any sort of offense taken. “I dinnae havtae tell ye anything,” he said with a laugh. “Use yer imagination.”

Wil gave a dramatic sigh. Fine.

Dixon chuckled and rose from his bed, standing to change into his sleeping clothes. Wil smiled softly to himself and opened his book again, looking down at it in his lap as his roommate changed.

Dixon had met Narah by accident. He’d snuck out one night to venture to the nearby village of Thalas to get something to drink. Drinking wasn’t permitted on the Venandi’s campus, but Dixon didn’t much care for that rule. Wil kept watch like he had tonight as Dixon snuck out—Wil had better vision at night, but Dixon was better at sneaking because he had working ears.

Dixon had come back that first night with a bottle of wine and a starry look in his eyes and told Wil about the girl he’d met in the tavern in the village.

“She’s the most wonderful thing I’ve ever seen,” he’d said, a goofy smile on his face. “I think I may be in trouble here, mate.”

That was almost a year ago, and ever since, Dixon had been sneaking out to see Narah at least three times a week. During the day he and Wil attended their classes and training, but most nights Dixon spent a few hours outside the walls. When Dixon spoke of her, it was clear to Wil that it wasn’t just something casual.

Dixon hopped up onto his bed, sitting atop his sheets as Wil set his book aside once more. “Anything happen while I was out?” he asked.

Wil shook his head. No. The Masters are oblivious as ever, he signed.

Dixon grinned. “Class.”

When do you see her again? Wil signed.

“A coupla’ nights from now,” Dixon replied. “She’s off takin’ care o’ some things and then we’ll meet by the river again.”

Wil smiled at his friend. Well, I hope I get to meet her someday.

Dixon returned the smile easily. “Me too, mate.”