"But before you all peruse the robust program of extracurricular activities Wydewood proudly offers, it is time for class,” the headmistress continued. “If everyone could please place a hand on your table, we will distribute your schedules."

Azirenne and her vice-heads each raised a finger and began to trace a complex purple sigil in the air. Another round of murmuring rose. Thirtyx felt a jolt of energy—mostly from the eighth years, a drama he remembered well. Not everyone had been honest about the majors and minors they were considering, but when the schedules came out, there was no more hiding it.

The professors each pulled back their hand, and the sound of fluttering paper filled the hall. A printed pamphlet rested before each student.

The noise rose to a cacophony. Azirenne didn't attempt to speak over it. She simply turned and exited the hall, the other professors trailing after her. Thirtyx pulled his pamphlet open with his breath held.

Rhea was already pushing her field of vision into Thirtyx and Benn’s minds so the three could compare schedules, but Thirtyx gave his head an almost imperceptible shake. Not like that—not with Seerla here.

Rhea discreetly rolled her eyes before laying her schedule flat on the table. "Alright. How did we shake out?"

Benn's gaze flickered from Rhea's paper to the one in his hand. "Well we have magical capstone together, obviously. And looks like we have the same lunch—"

"For the Twins' sake, Benn, just show us." She grabbed his wrist and pulled it to the table so they could all see. Thirtyx laid his beside it before Rhea could snatch it from his hand.

Two classes alone.

Times like this made Thirtyx wonder how much of his life’s course would be shaped by his adolescent fear of being alone in class. When it was time to choose majors and minors, the twins had followed Grimmary’s instructions: Both majored in magic, while Rhea minored in political science, and Benn minored in history.

Thirtyx, caring more about protection than any future career prospects, elected to major in political science and minor in history, lining up as many classes with his friends as possible. It had served him well, but he’d known this term he'd have to endure the political science capstone alone with one of his least favorite professors. Now, he knew Benn also had one of their history classes at a different time.

Seerla—also a political science major—peered at Rhea and Thirtyx's schedules. "Oh, that's fun. I've got rhetoric with both of you and capstone with Thirtyx."

Thirtyx knew she pointed out the capstone to be polite, but he appreciated it nonetheless. "Well, at least you know you won't be Professor Dexerro’s least favorite student," Thirtyx said with a grimace. "I have that one locked down."

She didn't argue, which Thirtyx also appreciated.

Around them, the scraping of chair legs and the rustling of bags merged with the excited babbling. It was almost 9th bar, and they had better get to class.

Benn breathed a heavy sigh. "Well, Thirtyx... you ready to go learn about political dynasties from Srevda to Aaro?"

"I'm just curious to see how they make a whole term out of it," Thirtyx answered.

Seerla was already on her feet, shouldering her messenger bag. "I guess I'll see you all later, then.

Thirtyx shouldered his own bag and followed Benn to the door, but he paused before leaving the dining hall. His gaze fell on a gaggle of first-years being gathered by a teacher. A decade ago, he’d been one of them, trying to hover just close enough to Benn and Rhea to gain intel without making them suspicious.

“Hey, come on. You don’t want Professor Maloc to paint a target on you the first day, do you?” Benn nudged Thirtyx’s arm, and he shook off his reverie.

As the two headed toward class, Thirtyx wondered if he’d ever be able to tell Benn and Rhea how grateful he was that his life had gone in a different direction.