The Hall of Petals looked like it had inhaled a storm of sun and decided to keep it. Morning light slid down the chandeliers, and puddled on the mosaic spiral at everyone's feet. Shelves had been rolled out along the walls overnight - tall, fussy things with brass rails and steps that squeaked when you blinked at them. The air smelled like paper that had survived three wars and a very polite dust.
Seven Royal Scholars stood under the central lotus crest.
"Where is Lynea?" Kori asked the ceiling, "And she was talking about us yesterday…"
The doors swung. Lynea strode in with her braid too neat to have been rushed. She was exactly eight minutes late.
Kori put both hands to her chest and bowed like a court jester greeting a queen. "Your Lateness. The Academy thanks you for gracing us with the lost eighth minute."
Lynea did not look at the bow. "The bell schedule is poorly designed."
"Absolutely," Kori said, delighted. "Fight the bell. You'll lose, but I love an underdog."
