Chapter 31: _ The Way of the Lions

Elira No-One

...

I stared into the tall washroom mirror, barely recognizing the girl staring back at me.

Back in the village, Leah and I used to joke about aristocrat girls; how they probably choked on their own pride and couldn’t walk without three maids holding up their skirts.

I had never imagined I’d walk among them, let alone look like one.

If Warden Clement hadn’t provided these gowns, I would have walked into the Gala looking like a female gardener caught in a sea of silks.

"I can’t breathe," Bren grumbled, tugging violently at her dress. "My ribs are being crushed, my shoulders feel exposed, and if I try to run in these shoes, I’ll break both ankles."

Despite her complaints, Miriel’s styling was a miracle. Bren didn’t look like a warrior princess in a dress at all; she looked lethal, regal, and imposing.

"Stop wriggling," Miriel ordered, applying a final sweep of shimmering dust over her own shoulders.

When Clement said these outfits would help us stand out, he hadn’t lied. We looked like princesses.

We stepped out into the dorm corridor to find the hallway bustling with excited first-years. Bren immediately held us up, leaning against the wall.

"We shouldn’t walk to the main hall alone," Bren whispered, her eyes darting across the crowd. "Tobin could be lurking anywhere between here and the Lion Academy. We need to melt into a larger group."

"Over there," Miriel said, her eyes lighting up as she pointed down the hall.

A cluster of giggling, flashy first-year girls was gathered by the archway, glowing in expensive fabrics and dripping in spun-gold jewelry.

"...and if Prince Ivar asks me for a dance, I might actually faint," one of them squealed, fanning herself. "Though Lord Griffith’s son would be an acceptable backup."

The name Lord Griffith or his son nearly sent me puking but I held myself up. Like Miriel had pointed out, tonight, we were meant to be jolly.

"Perfect," Miriel beamed, stepping forward. "Let’s go."

"Miriel, wait–" I reached out to grab her sleeve, but it was too late.

Those girls looked too pompous and spoiled, but before Bren or I could stop her, Miriel had rushed over. I watched in awe as she laughed at their jokes, flipped her hair, and slid into their conversation without missing a beat.

A pang hit my chest. This was Miriel’s natural habitat. Watching her fit into that glittering world made me realize just how much she had lost when her family fell, and how brutal it must be for her to cope with life as a commoner.

Miriel turned back toward us, smiling brightly. "Girls, come meet my dormmates! This is Bren, and this is..."

The lead girl of the cluster turned to face us. Her eyes swept down my red velvet dress and her lip curled in appreciation. "That fabric costs an absolute fortune. Where did you get–"

She stopped dead when her eyes locked onto my face, and mine onto hers.

It was the girl from the concourse on our very first day—the one who had deliberately stepped into a mud puddle and demanded I clean her boots.

Her bright smile instantly turned ugly. "Wait a minute."

She stepped closer, her nose wrinkling in disgust. "I know you. These aren’t nobles, girls. They’re the friends of the markless trash from the trenches."

Instantly, the girls who had been fawning over Miriel recoiled like she was carrying a plague. Miriel’s smile shattered. It ached my heart to see her posture stiffen as panic washed over her face. She looked down at her own silk skirt, her throat bobbing as if the floor beneath her fine slippers had suddenly caved in.

"No amount of expensive fabric can cover up filth," the lead girl sneered, raising her voice so the surrounding students could hear.

"Wait, isn’t that the girl who dared speak to Prince Raice in the concourse?" another girl chimed in, snickering behind her hand. "The one everyone says is walking dead?"

Laughter rippled through the hall. Whispers spread like wildfire down the corridor as passing first-years stopped to stare.

"If I were marked for death by the Fae Prince, I’d lock myself in my room," a boy passing by called out, laughing. "Not put on a pretty dress to go die at a party."

The blood roared in my ears. The room suddenly felt tiny.

In all the chaos about Tobin, the wolf crest, and the red-haired stalker, I had completely forgotten the most terrifying detail of tonight: Raice Ignis-Dominus would be at the Gala.

Adrenaline spiked through my veins, mixed with a sickening wave of fear.

"Shut your mouth before I snap your neck," Bren growled, stepping up beside me.

The intensity in her hazel eyes made the lead girl choke back her next insult, stumbling half a step backward in sudden terror.

"Ignore them," I muttered. I grabbed Miriel’s trembling hand. "Maybe... maybe it’s better if I just stay behind tonight. I don’t need to draw Raice’s attention."

"Are you insane?!"

To our utter shock, it was Miriel who snapped.

She turned on me, her eyes flashing with pure fire despite the tears almost spilling from her lashes.

"You are not staying in this room. Not when we have those absolute tramps to prove wrong!"

"Tonight, we are going to walk into that ball," Miriel declared, tossing her head back with defiance. "We are going to dance with the most gorgeous noble shifters in the realm, and we are going to shine. And if any of us are going to die tonight... we are going to die shining."

Bren offered a rare smirk. "Works for me."

.

Ten minutes later, we arrived at the Lion Academy.

If the Dragon Academy was designed to showcase power, the Lion Academy was designed like wealth. Everything gleamed in gold—from the towering arches to the leafing along the vaulted ceilings.

The beauty of the different attire worn by male and female shifters of all five factions trooping in made the sight all the more breathtaking. High-collared silks, flowing velvet capes, and jewel-encrusted waistcoats moved in a dazzling sea of color. Celebration was in the air, and the Lions clearly knew how to throw a party.

"I am so glad the Lions host the ball for our first year!" Miriel squealed, jumping as she clutched my forearm. "Look at them! They are the definition of grandeur!"

She wasn’t exaggerating.

Stationed along the staircase and ushering guests into the main hall was a battalion of Lion Academy escorts. The male escorts wore low-slung, gold-embroidered trousers, their bare torsos glistening under the light as they offered charming smiles to arriving ladies.

Opposite them, female Lion escorts guided the arriving noblemen, lightly resting silver-clawed fingers on their sleeves and exchanging sultry, low-toned remarks.

Two steps ahead of us, a pair of Fae girls were giggling uncontrollably as a towering Lion escort leaned down, softly whispering something against one girl’s ear that made her fan herself frantically. The escort winked back at her, his golden tail lazily swaying behind him as he gestured toward the main floor.

Even Bren let out a reluctant breath. "Well. At least the guards here are easy on the eyes." ℯ

"Easy?!" Miriel gasped. "They’re a public hazard!"

As we trotted down the steps guided by a bronze-skinned Lion male who gave us a theatrical bow, even I could no longer hide my excitement.

For the first time since stepping foot in this realm, I didn’t feel like a hunted markless initiate. I felt alive.

So this was what it felt like to be at a ball... to live like a noble.

They had the world while we rotted in the trenches.

The moment our slippers touched the main ballroom floor, the competition of beauty hit its peak. Whispers rippled through the surrounding crowds as people parted to let us pass. But it wasn’t just the royal-grade velvet dresses Warden Clement had supplied...

Miriel’s magic had turned us into an absolute spectacle. Head after head turned in our direction—some with envious glares, others with hungry gazes—as we navigated toward an open spot near the fountain.

"Look up," Bren muttered. "The upper balcony."

I hadn’t even turned my head before my heart dropped into my stomach.