Chapter 162: 162: Academy Life Starts XIX (Birthday celebrations part Twelve)

---

The night moved on. The house held them both without asking for coins. He sat up once to pour water from the pitcher and offer it to her. She took two careful sips and touched the edge of the cup to his mouth. "Drink," she ordered softly.

He did. Their hands brushed on the cup; neither moved away.

"The future will be... less simple," Sera murmured after a while, as if telling the dark a secret instead of him. "Classes. Faces. Rules. You will be fine."

"With you nearby?" he asked.

"With me nearby," she promised, and threaded her fingers back through his. "And with that little sun downstairs."

"Fizz," he said, almost laughing. "Yes."

"Also," she added, fond and sly, "you owe me a proper story about where you grew up."

He groaned into the pillow. "I owe you a big gift."

"Then you will bring me one when you are ready," she said, and closed her eyes.

He watched her for a moment more —how peaceful she looked when sleep brought her home to herself— and then he eased the blanket higher. The night pressed its cheek to the window. The city breathed. Somewhere below, a chair scraped and Fizz announced the last game to Elara ("Two Truths and a Tall Tale, and yes, mine are all tall").

John lay back and let the quiet settle on him like a second quilt. He had known many nights that were cold and lonely. He had not known many that were warm and kind. He let this one be remembered for the rest of his life.

When he woke again a small while later —only a small while— the candle had sunk to nothing. Sera’s hand was still in his. He couldn’t hear the low sounds of the party. They all fell asleep in the hall. He smiled in the dark and closed his eyes again.

Tomorrow would come with its work and its tests and its clever enemies and its rare friends. Tonight belonged to a first time, a careful yes, and a small inn that had tried its best and succeeded.

The Bent Penny slept. The city turned the page. The temple bells dreamed of morning. And two people on the second floor, who had earned a little peace, kept it.

A few hours later....

John woke to a quiet room and a square of sunlight on the floor. For a breath he did not know where he was. Then the smell of flour and wood came back to him, and the sound of a cart in the lane, and the memory of a party, a cake and a candle, Sera and him sleeping together, and too much laughter. He reached out for Sera.

The bed beside him was warm but empty. Sera wasn’t there. He was alone in the room. For a second he thought everything must have been a dream. But then he noticed two things. First he was naked. Second...

A folded scrap of paper lay on the pillow. He turned it over with the kind of care you use for things that might break even if they are only paper.

John—

Do not tell anyone about last night. It will be our secret. I had to leave early with Ina and Elara. There is something I need to do. We will talk in the academy. I will find you.

—From Sera.

He read it twice. His face went soft and then steady again. It wasn’t a dream. He and Sera did it. They slept together. He picked up his clothes and slid the note into the inside pocket of his coat, where he kept things he would not lose.

He washed his face in the bowl of water. The water was cool and woke the parts of him that still dreamed. He set the blanket straight, picked up a fallen ribbon from the floor, took the egg and went down the narrow stairs.

The common hall room looked like a party had fought a hard battle and almost won. Chairs at angles. Streamers wilting. The last of the balloons doing that slow, sad lean they do when the air inside has decided to stop trying so hard.

Penny slept with her cheek on the table, hair loose, apron crooked, one big hand still holding a wooden spoon like a guard holding a spear. Edda slept opposite her with her head on her forearms, braid like a rope across the boards. A plate held three crumbs. A cup held a tired candle.

Fizz lay on his back on the bar like a cat that had forgotten how to tuck itself. His fur was a disaster. Cake cream made white streaks across his orange, a frosting war paint. One paw twitched in a dream. He muttered, "No, no, the pancake goes on the left, the left," and snored once —just once— like a tiny trumpet.

John smiled in spite of himself. He put the kettle on the stove the way Penny liked it done and nudged the fire with a careful stick. He found clean cups, because he knew where Penny hid them when she did not trust other people to keep them whole.

He touched Fizz’s head with one finger. "Wake up," he said, softly.

Fizz flinched and made a small fighting noise. His eyes opened. He saw John, then saw the cream on his own fur, then saw John’s face again, and put a paw over his eyes in despair. "Tell me I still look handsome," he said from under the paw.

"You look like a pastry that found religion," John said. "Clean yourself."

Fizz sat up fast and checked both cheeks with fast pats. "That bad?" he asked, already grinning. He looked at Penny and Edda and decided to be kind. He floated down to hover near Penny’s ear and whispered, "Wake up penny. Good morning, master of soup cooking."

Penny woke like a warrior — straight up, eyes ready. Then she saw John and Fizz and the room and remembered. "Oh," she said, rubbing her neck. "We celebrated hard. I was so tired and drunk I fell asleep here."