Chapter 66: _ A Firecracker, This One

The girl’s expression tightened. For the first time, she actually looked at Elira. The dismissive delight in her eyes vanished because she had finally realized I wasn’t holding No-One’s hand by accident.

The courtyard erupted into another wave of whispers.

I didn’t care.

Elira, however, clearly cared. Very, very much.

She tensed up like a drawn bowstring, her face turning crimson as the whispers grew louder.

She gave another frantic tug to free her fingers. "Your Highness! Let go! Everyone is staring at us!"

Instead of releasing her, I tightened my grip just enough to keep her locked in place, matching her furious glare with an unbothered smile. "I told you, let them stare. It’s good for their circulation."

"This is ridiculous!" she hissed, trying to dig her heels into the cobblestones, though I effortlessly kept walking, dragging her along like a very angry, very stubborn kite. "You’re making a scene! Why are you even doing this?!"

"I told you. I’m here to help."

"That doesn’t make any sense! Why would a Tiger Prince care about an investigation that doesn’t concern him? It’s not a Tiger initiate who was attacked, and Academy security is already handling it!" She protested.

Argh. She sure was a defiant one. Now, I see why Raice had talked to her and why Ajax would want to dance with her. This Dragonless No-One actually had the guts to tell a royal Prince he wasn’t making any sense.

I stopped dead in my tracks, turning on my heel so fast she almost ran into me again.

I leaned down, bringing my face down to her level until our noses were touching. "When something catches my attention, Sweet Dragonless, I don’t just let it go. I don’t care if it concerns me, my realm, or the gods above. If I want to solve a puzzle, I solve it."

Her hazel eyes widened at the intensity in my tone, her lips parting slightly as she stared up at me.

And then, right in the center of my chest, a fluttering sensation erupted.

It was light, ridiculous, and completely foreign.

Did... Did my heart just skip a beat because a markless girl looked at me with anger? Absolute madness.

The sensation came again. Except this time, it wasn’t in my chest but in my veins.

A strange warmth rushed down my arm, following the exact path of the hand holding hers.

My blood was moving and it was not because I commanded it.

I’ve had my abilities awakened since I was fifteen and ever since, I had trained hard to master them. Now, not once since I’d learned to control it had it ever moved on its own.

But now it did... Because of her.

This markless No-One.

Panicking at the absurdity of my own physical and physiological response, I released her hand so abruptly that Elira lost her balance entirely, stumbling backward and landing flat on her rear with an ungraceful THUD against the manicured grass bordering the walkway.

Oops.

From behind us, Miriel and Bren let out snorting laughs before quickly clapping their hands over their mouths.

"Hey!" Elira yelped, staring up at me from the grass with pure fire in her eyes. "What was that for?!"

Rykos cackled in my head, stretching out in his mental space. "Smooth Zevaranthius. Very regal. Throwing women into the dirt. That will certainly make her trust us."

Shut up, cat.

Suppressing a smirk, I offered her a dramatic bow, extending my hand back down to her. "My apologies, Sweet Dragonless. My hand slipped. Allow me."

She glared at my outstretched fingers as if they were covered in poison, but realizing she was sitting on the ground in front of fifty snickering Dragon initiates, she huffed and slapped her palm into mine. I pulled her, hoisting her back onto her feet in one swift motion.

"You are unbelievable," she muttered, aggressively brushing dirt and stray grass blades off her skirt.

"And yet, you’re still walking with me," I pointed out, gesturing for her to keep moving as we approached the grand, vaulted entrance of the Great Hall.

"Only because you know where the food is!" she snapped, though her lips twitched with a tiny fight against a smile.

I chuckled, falling into step beside her, making sure my shoulder lightly brushed against hers as we walked. She was defiant—more defiant than any noble girl I’d ever met.

Anyone else in Last Bastion would have been trembling, offering up praises, or blushing like fools just to be in my presence. But Elira was treating me like an annoying, overly persistent nuisance.

It was absurd. She was at the very rock bottom of the Academy hierarchy, a girl with no dragon and no lineage, defying a royal heir to his face.

And, blast it all... I found it thoroughly refreshing.

"Listen to me," I said, lowering my voice so her two friends couldn’t overhear as we approached the doors of the dining complex. "If you want to clear that fog in your head and remember what actually happened in the Sunken Arch, you need to be smart about it."

Elira glanced up at me. "What do you mean?"

"Your brain is stressed, and a stressed mind holds onto memory blocks like a vault," I explained.

I assumed a dramatically wise tone, framing my words carefully as helpful advice while secretly setting up my trap to break Ivar’s crude compulsion. "Go to the Academy apothecary tonight. Ask for Starlight Lotus tea. Drink it right before you sleep. It calms the neural magic and forces your mind into a deep, lucid sleep state. If there’s a suppressed memory hiding in your head... that tea will force it to the surface in your dreams."

She frowned thoughtfully, digesting the information. "Starlight Lotus tea? Does that actually work?"

Yes. Only because Ivar’s compulsion is sloppy. I replied in my head. However, outwardly...

"I am a Prince, Elira. I don’t give bad advice," I smirked. "Drink the tea tonight. And tomorrow, you can tell me what face you saw in your sleep."

If she drank the tea, Ivar’s frail compulsion spell would shatter like thin glass under the pressure of a lucid dream. She’d remember whatever the hell my friend was doing in that chamber and why he helped her.

Ah... The air smells so nice when the day is favorable to me, I beamed to myself.

I’d finally have the weapon I needed to squeeze the truth out of Ivar.

As we reached the archway of the Great Hall, a pair of male Dragon initiates standing near the pillars muttered under their breath,.

"Look at him," one whispered to his friend, sneering at my bronze-trimmed uniform. "Another arrogant royal jerk barging into our quadrant like he owns the place. I am so sick of these self-absorbed princes thinking they can walk in here and claim whatever girl they want."

I didn’t even bother turning my head.

Instead, I casually flicked my index finger against my thumb.

My secondary ability activated in an instant. A tiny, invisible pulse of force traveled through the air, striking the sneering initiate’s leg.

Sadly, I didn’t harm him. I simply constricted the blood flow in his left calf muscle for half a second, forcing a violent cramp to fire through his leg.

The initiate let out a pathetic yell, his knee buckling completely as he tumbled down three stone steps, landing face-first into a decorative bush.

"AHHHH!"

Miriel gasped. Elira blinked in shock. "What happened to him?"

"Gravity is a harsh mistress," I sighed, not breaking stride as I guided them through the archway.

The Great Hall was vast, breathtaking, and utterly chaotic. High, vaulted ceilings echoed with the clatter of silverware and hundreds of overlapping voices.

Last Bastion was strictly an institution for the high-born—elite shifters, extraordinarily powerful younglins, and descendants of noble houses. Even with the sudden inclusion of the ’anomaly clause’ this year that brought in commoners like Elira, the hierarchy here was suffocatingly clear.

The peak nobility like princes, dukes, and high warlords, rarely used the Great Hall, preferring private dining chambers or catered meals in their luxury quarters.

The initiates flooding the long marble tables below were mostly the common-borns, the lower-tier noble houses, or rich families whose names carried wealth but no true political power.

The moment the four of us stepped into the hall, a hush washed over the nearest tables. High-borns and commoners alike stopped eating, staring in disbelief at the Tiger Prince casually escorting a dragonless girl through the dining entrance.

"Well," I said, turning to Elira with a charming, theatrical bow. "An hungry man is an angry man, Sweet Dragonless. Your stomach will soon be happy with me. Try not to choke on the excitement."

Elira opened her mouth to shoot back a witty retort, but before she could speak, the atmosphere in the Great Hall abruptly changed.

The chatter vanished instantly.

Tables of upperclassmen hurriedly stood up, clearing their trays in a panic. First-year initiates scrambled out of the main aisle, pulling their chairs back so fast the wood screeched against the marble floor.

I narrowed my eyes, turning toward the entrance and my eyes couldn’t resist the internal roll when I saw who was coming in.