Chapter 72: _ The Center of Attention

"Shut up, dwarf!" the third-year girl snapped, reaching out to shove Bren.

Before her hand could make contact, a bone-rattling buzz resonated through the floorboards.

The shadows clinging to the surrounding pillars expanded. Thick, liquid-black tendrils erupted violently from the stone floor, surging upward like a nest of awakened sea monsters. They moved with speed, resembling a writhing mass of living, pitch-black venom.

SWISH! SNAP!

"AAAGH!"

Four of the loudest upperclassmen shrieked in terror as the shadow-tendrils whipped around their ankles, violently yanking them off their feet and lifting them upside down into the air.

The tendrils coiled tighter around the students’ legs, dangling them fifteen feet above the flagstones like caught fish. One boy’s purse flipped open, showering a shower of silver coins and a half-eaten meat pie straight onto his own forehead.

The Discipline Warden stepped calmly around the pillar, his emotionless eyes sweeping over the frozen crowd.

"The Great Hall is designated for morning nourishment and quiet preparation. It is not an arena for mob harassment. Return to your designated benches, consume your meal, and prepare for lecture."

He flicked two fingers downward.

The shadow-tendrils instantly dissolved into harmless mist, dropping the four upperclassmen squarely onto their backs with an embarrassing THUD!

"Anyone else seeking to test academy discipline before the morning horn," the warden added, his gaze lingering on me and I thought I tasted my heart in my mouth, "will spend the remainder of the week scrubbing drake stables with their bare fingernails."

The crowd evaporated in three seconds flat. Students scrambled over broken chairs, practically vaulting back onto their benches, sitting up, and staring down at their wooden plates in dead silence.

Bren slowly stepped down from her seat, dusting off her sleeves and letting out a long, whistle-like breath. "Note to self: never, ever cross the man whose shadow can snap your spine."

"I told you," Miriel muttered as she tried to smooth down her wrinkled dress. "The Warden does not play."

Bren rolled her eyes, ducking her head to check if her boots were intact. "No, Miriel, you did not."

"I did!"

"Did not."

"Did too! I whispered it right before he turned that third-year into a human pendulum!"

Suddenly, a thick piece of parchment fluttered out of thin air, dropping onto the center of our wooden table with a soft pop!

Glowing gold lettering bloomed across its surface, listing an array of breakfast items alongside tiny magical quartz counters embedded in the border.

Bren blinked, poking the floating paper twice with her wooden spoon as if expecting it to bite back. "What the hell is that?"

"Is that what you’re most curious about? Floating menus?!" Miriel’s eyes bulged as she turned to me, gripping her spoon like a theatrical microphone. "Elira, girl, you’re spinning hearts everywhere you go! You’re a walking, talking disaster magnet!"

"Don’t you find it strange, Elira? What games are these princes playing with you?" Bren’s eyes thinned as she nudged a salt cellar out of the way.

Miriel looked at Bren like she had just asked why the sun rose in the east. "Bren, do you literally read zero romantic literature? Do you live under a boulder? In a cave? Under another smaller, dumber boulder?! It’s the classic, ancient trope! Rich, god-tier boy falls hopelessly in love with the poor, tragic commoner girl!" She threw her hands in the air. "Except in Elira’s ridiculously absurd case, it’s rich boys. Plural! An entire, highly unstable royal harem!"

"That is not what’s happening! Prince Zev called me a burden, and Prince Remus was just... he was just being crazy!" I hissed, my face instantly bursting into a feverish blush as I pulled my knees tighter to my chest and tried to hide behind my own collar.

"Oh, please!" Miriel scoffed loudly, leaning halfway across the table and pointing her wooden spoon straight at my nose like a loaded crossbow. "Prince Zev literally used his blood manipulation on THE Lady Vaela to force her to slap her own beloved brother just because she put hands on you! And Prince Remus looked like he was about to rip the Tiger Prince’s throat out with his bare teeth for holding your HAND!"

She leaned back, throwing her arms wide in absolute disbelief. "They are both completely, pathologically obsessed with you! And let’s not forget Prince Ajax, who went entirely out of his way at a high-society ball to give you a protective royal artifact! You have the entire royal food chain fighting in a tavern over your honor!"

At the mention of the bracelet, Bren’s theatrical smirk faded. She set her spoon down with a clack and glanced at the band wrapping around my right wrist.

"Okay, jokes aside. That’s what we actually need to talk about. Forget the stupid royal crushes and Miriel’s tragic romance novels for a second. Elira... Remus said he saw an emotional signature coming from inside that metal."

I lowered my legs back to the floor, staring down at the dark metal. "I heard him too. But... how can an object have an emotional signature? Does that mean someone’s magic is trapped inside it? Or that someone is... inside of it watching me?"

Miriel suddenly burst out into a loud, snorting laugh, waving her hand dismissively. "Oh, come on! Let’s not start writing dark fantasy ghost stories before breakfast! Metal doesn’t hold human souls—unless it’s a very specific, very illegal dark relic, which... okay, let’s not think about that. It’s probably just a high-tier protective ward. Instead of sitting here pulling crazy, terrifying hypotheses out of thin air, we should just wait until we run into Prince Remus again and ask him to explain it properly."

"I’m not sure I can wait until then," I muttered as prickling anxiety twisted my stomach.

"Take it off. That’s what Prince Remus said, so maybe you should. He also said not to trust the Lion Prince," Bren reasoned, crossing her arms over her chest.

I sighed, thinking back to my conversation with Ajax at the ball. "Funny how the Lion Prince also told me not to trust the other princes."

"So who are you supposed to trust among them now, Elira? Hm?" Miriel wrung her lips together. "The brooding Dragon? The violent Tiger? Or the charming Lion?"

Or the mad Fae... I added in my head.

Outwardly, I let out an exhausted breath. "None. Absolutely none of them."

Determined, I reached down with my left hand, pinching the dark metal and trying to slide it off my hand. I braced my feet against the bench leg and yanked.

The moment I applied pressure, trying to force it over my wrist bone, a white-hot shock of searing pain shot straight up my forearm, radiating all the way to my shoulder.

"Ow!" I gasped, violently snapping my hands apart as my entire arm went numb.