Back at the Academy, Lan Yue couldn't sleep.
She lay on Zhao Lingxi's bed—not her own narrow cot in the adjoining room, but the silk-sheeted bed that still carried the faint scent of her mistress. Cold mountain pine and something warmer beneath it, something uniquely Zhao Lingxi.
She had told herself it was practical. The main room was better positioned to hear if anyone approached. She was guarding the quarters.
Liar, her own mind whispered. You just miss her.
She pulled the pillow closer and stared at the ceiling.
Day one. Two more to go.
Morning came gray and cold.
Lan Yue had promised to watch over Zhao Han, so she made her way to the lower quarters where the boy was staying with Liu Ruyan. The Academy had grudgingly allowed him to remain on the grounds while his sister was a student—a courtesy that likely came from Mo Tian's influence rather than any goodwill.
She found Zhao Han sitting on a bench in the courtyard, swinging his legs and eating a steamed bun.
