Chapter 65: _ Helping Gone Wrong

Elira was so shocked that her jaw hinged open. Her eyes darted between our intertwined fingers and my face as if waiting for me to laugh and reveal the punchline.

I simply offered her a dashing smile and kept moving, leading us out of the security sector.

"So," I murmured, glancing down at her as we reached the top of the stairwell. "Where is your first class? Or do you even know where you’re going yet?"

Elira’s small nose crinkled in frustration as she tried to match my long strides. "We don’t know yet. We were told someone would direct us once we left the holding block, but then you hijacked our morning."

I chuckled. "Right. First years. I forgot about the newborn orientation protocol." I paused at the threshold of the doors, turning to look at her. "In that case, your immediate destination is the Great Hall. That’s where every lost initiate goes to be fed and watered. An announcement usually comes around breakfast to herd the first-years toward their respective lecture wings."

From two steps behind us, her bouncy friend let out a delighted gasping squeak. "Oh! That’s so helpful! I’ve heard stories from upperclassmen about how much fun eating in the Great Hall is! The floating trays! The fire-roasted meats!"

The red-haired one nudged her viciously with her elbow, muttering a sharp scolding under her breath. "Shut up, Miriel! You’re babbling at a Tiger Prince!"

"Mind your business, Bren!"

I didn’t care about Elira’s little entourage. My focus was squarely on the stubborn markless girl whose hand was currently trapped in mine. But if I was going to play the charming, accessible royal and keep her comfortable enough to lower her defenses, I had to keep the mood light.

I glanced back over my shoulder at Bren, giving her a playful wink that made her stiffen even further. "It’s fine, redhead. She’s actually right. The Great Halls are usually quite a spectacle in some of the Academies, and lucky for you three, I know the quickest route to the Dragon Academy’s Great Hall. I’ll take you there myself."

"Why would you even want to do that?" Elira blurted.

She abruptly tried to snatch her hand backward out of my grip.

It was a terrible choice on her part. Because I didn’t let go, the sudden backward momentum snapped her forward, sending her crashing against my chest.

My free arm instinctually swept around her waist to keep her from tumbling backward, steadying her against the broad width of my torso. Her hands planted flat against my leather jacket, and for a breath-stealing second, her face was mere inches from mine.

Our eyes collided.

And right there, in the middle of a dusty stairwell, that bizarre sensation from the Gala hit me again. It was the same pull I’d felt when she’d stood across the room and our eyes met for the first time. This gravity tugged at the core of my sternum, as if something deep inside her was directly calling out to me.

"Get up, boy."

A reverberating rumble echoed inside the depths of my mind.

I flinched internally. What the hell?

I always kept my shifting essence, a golden-eyed shadow tiger I called Rykos in a state of magical hibernation. Waking a shift-spirit consumed vast amounts of personal mana, and I preferred hoarding every drop of my reserves for arena duels and high-stakes combat.

Rykos usually slept for weeks at a time.

Yet the moment this dragonless girl slammed into my chest, the giant cat inside my soul stirred, stretched his huge claws, and yawned.

Rykos grumbled in my head with uninvited curiosity. "Why are we holding a trench rat, Zevaranthius? Is she a snack? She smells so... inviting."

Go back to sleep, Rykos. She’s no one. We are only conducting an operation. I snapped mentally, fighting to keep my expression smooth on the outside.

"She doesn’t look like an operation. She looks tiny. Push her over."

I pushed the cat’s intrusive thoughts back into the dark and focused on Elira. Her cheeks were flushed in a delicious shade of pink. I could feel her breath hitching softly against my collarbone.

"Careful, Sweet Dragonless," I purred, letting my thumb rest against her hip for a beat longer than necessary. "If you wanted an embrace, all you had to do was ask."

"I was trying to get away from you!" she gasped, hurriedly pushing herself off my chest, though her hand remained stubbornly clamped in mine as I led her through the double doors and out into the open courtyard.

The morning air hit us instantly, but so did the overwhelming noise of the Dragon Academy’s grounds.

The central courtyard was absolute chaos. Hundreds of initiates in silver-and-gold uniforms were rushing in every direction, rushing to get seats for breakfast, upperclassmen carrying leather books, and uniformed wardens patrolling the perimeter on foot.

And the moment the four of us stepped out into the sunlight, the bustling noise died down like someone had slapped a damp blanket over the crowd.

Heads turned. Rushing feet slowed to a crawl.

Whispers broke out like a sudden infestation of locusts. Upperclassmen paused on the marble staircases, pointing wildly. Wardens stopped their patrols, their visors glinting in the morning light as they stared at the absurd sight of the Tiger Prince strolling through Dragon Academy grounds on a Moon day morning, holding hands with a markless, dragonless nobody.

I didn’t give a damn about their opinions. I was a prince of the realm; public scrutiny was as background noise to me as the buzzing of flies.

But the reaction from the female initiates was almost immediate.

Several girls who had been lingering around the courtyard suddenly straightened.

I recognized that look.

Some had been waiting for years for a chance to catch the attention of a royal. Others had been strategically positioning themselves around Academy events, hoping one of the princes might eventually notice them. A royal match meant status, influence, wealth, and a direct path into the upper circles of the Five Realms.

And apparently, seeing me holding another girl’s hand wasn’t enough to discourage them.

A blonde second-year near the fountain immediately smoothed down her uniform and pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Is that Prince Zev?" she whispered loudly enough for half the courtyard to hear.

"He’s even more handsome up close."

Another girl elbowed her friend. "Don’t stare. Go speak to him."

"With that girl?"

The girl glanced at Elira, her lips curling. "She’s dragonless. She’s hardly competition."

I almost laughed.

Another ambitious initiate had already stepped into our path.

"Your Highness!" she called sweetly, dipping into an exaggerated curtsy. "I didn’t know you were visiting our Academy."

I didn’t slow down.

She hurried alongside us anyway.

"I could show you around if you’d like. I know every private courtyard and training terrace in the Dragon Academy."

"How generous," I replied dryly.

She smiled brightly, apparently mistaking my indifference for encouragement.

Behind her, two more girls began whispering.

"Ask him about the Tiger Academy."

"No, ask him to spar."

"That’s stupid. Tell him you’re interested in Tiger combat techniques."

"Why would he care?"

"Because you’re prettier than her."

At that, my eyebrows rose.

Apparently the courtyard had transformed into a royal hunting ground, and I was the prize everyone intended to catch.

One particularly determined girl stepped forward, deliberately positioning herself directly in my path.

She lowered her voice. "Your Highness, my family is hosting a private dinner tonight. Perhaps you’d like to–"

"I won’t."

Her smile froze. I kept walking.

She hurried after me. "Perhaps another evening?"

"No."

"A luncheon?"

"No."

"A training session?"

"No."

Her cheeks reddened, but she still refused to retreat.

I heard a few muffled giggles behind her. "He’s holding her hand."

"So?"

"He’s obviously interested in her."

"Princes don’t marry trench rats."

That one earned a few approving murmurs.

Elira’s fingers twitched inside mine. I glanced down. Her face had gone even redder. She looked mortified.

I couldn’t decide whether it was because of the attention or because she was apparently being discussed like a piece of furniture someone might bid on.

Then another girl called from the steps.

"Prince Zev!"

I looked up.

A tall brunette was leaning against the marble railing, smiling with the confidence of someone who had never been told no. She slowly descended the stairs, never once looking at Elira.

"Surely you remember me."

I didn’t.

She reached us and dipped into a graceful curtsy. "Lady Seraphine. My father is Lord–"

"I know who your father is."

Her smile widened.

"Then perhaps you’d remember that our families have discussed–"

"No."

Her mouth fell open. A few students nearby snickered.

She recovered quickly. "You’re awfully difficult today, Your Highness."

"I’m usually difficult."

Her eyes flicked toward our joined hands. "And yet you seem to be enjoying yourself."

I looked down at Elira.

She was glaring at me like she wanted the earth to open and swallow her whole. A slow grin pulled at my mouth.

Perhaps, it was time to have my revenge for how rudely she’d been speaking to me.

And so, my grin turned sheepish. "Immensely."