The exterior face of the east wing at nine-thirty in the evening was lit by the ambient lighting of the academy grounds — enough to see by, not enough to be clearly visible from more than twenty meters.
The nearest occupied area was the south courtyard, which was far enough that the specific sound of someone climbing a building face would be absorbed into the evening noise.
William moved along the ledge with his back to the stone and his essence concentrated in his feet — wind technique at the lowest functional application, creating a gentle adhesion that supplemented his physical grip without being detectable at any significant range.
The stone was cold. The ledge was exactly as narrow as it had looked.
Seraphina was two steps behind him, matching his pace with the precise movement control of someone whose entire combat development had been built on footwork.
They reached the point below the third floor window.
William looked up.
