Tuesday started with rain.
Not the light mist of the competition weekend but actual rain, the kind that came in from the western hills in autumn and committed to being what it was for the full length of the day. It arrived sometime before five and was still going at six-thirty when the academy began its morning routines, the grounds wet and the covered walkways between buildings doing the function they had been architecturally designed for.
William heard it before he opened his eyes.
He lay still for a moment listening to it against the dormitory window. Kai was already awake — he could tell by the quality of the room's silence, which was different when Kai was sleeping versus when he was simply still. A sitting quality rather than a lying quality.
"Rain," William said.
"Since approximately four-thirty," Kai said, from somewhere in the room that wasn't his bed. "The western hills weather pattern. It'll hold through afternoon at minimum."
