More from a sense of listlessness than anything, Thirtyx watched the caravans for a while. A new carriage would pull up to the drop-off point. A student, sometimes with family, would hop out and stretch. They’d search the crowd for any friends who might have arrived earlier. Those friends would rush forward to greet them and help them with their things.

When a particularly overloaded carriage pulled up to the line, Thirtyx seized his opportunity to sneak back onto the path without being noticed. He hadn't faced classes without Rhea and Benn in... well, ever. If their absence had emboldened Vix to act out against him, would it embolden the teachers as well?

He set his jaw against the memory of his third year and the near-constant torment from Professor Kracurelle—torment that made it acceptable to probe into his history and the operations of the mostly sequestered Verith state in front of full classes. At the naive age of 10, Thirtyx had felt like Kracurelle turned the whole school against him somehow when, in reality, she’d just given a voice to the anti-Verith sentiment that had bubbled under the surface for most of the professors’ lives. 

The term had been a turning point for Rhea and Benn, who began defending him when the teachers’ questions got too invasive, biased, or downright derogatory. They’d been friends before that, but not the kind of friends Thirtyx was truly sad to see go at the end of term—a sadness only compounded when, for the first time, no carriage arrived to take him home. 

When their fourth year started, Benn and Rhea acted far too smug for Thirtyx to rule Kracurelle’s absence a coincidence, and the other teachers had visibly dialed back their animosity. The twins never admitted what they’d told Grimmary, but they did mention coyly that the king held two votes on the Wydewood school board.

But if the king’s adolescent spies were the only thing keeping the abuse at bay, how would the staff and students react to their absence?

Thirtyx joined a crowd of students dragging a massive couch into the dorm and tailed them into the stairwell, letting their distraction and the bulk of the furniture render him mostly unnoticed. When he slipped through the door to the fifth floor, he kept his head down, hoping his shaggy dark hair would hide his pointed ears enough to get him to his room without trouble.

To his great relief, everyone was too busy unpacking and gossiping to pay him any notice. He beelined to his room and, despite his hunger, pushed the door all the way closed. He couldn't bear to listen to all the cheerful gatherings knowing what he'd have to face tomorrow... alone.

Thirtyx crawled onto his bed, drew his legs up to his chest, and planted his face between his knees to avoid looking at Benn’s empty side of the room. He only had until tomorrow morning to prepare for what was coming. Why hadn’t they warned him? Had there been some kind of error in communication? Or had they never actually been as close as Thirtyx thought? Or was something deeply and terribly wrong at the palace?

He wasn't sure how long he let himself indulge in his self-pity, but he was shaken from his stupor by a loud ruckus in the hall—some sort of cheering. He bit back more of that burning envy.

He heard the doorknob jiggle.

Thirtyx leapt up. They'd figured out he was alone and defenseless.

The lock clicked. The door swung open.

"Well my stuff is heavier! If we'd have dropped your stuff first, we'd have lugged the heavier load to both rooms!"

"I don't think you can make that argument when you're not helping me carry anything."

A trunk and a pair of suitcases thunked to the ground, released from their levitation spell. There, behind the baggage, stood Rhea and Benn, like nothing in the world was amiss.