Chapter 84: _ A Start To Our Day

The only exception was Ajax.

I felt zero attraction to the Lion Prince. Instead, my gaze flicked to my left wrist, where the bracelet rested against my skin. Every time I looked at it, dread settled in my stomach. I knew... I knew that it was a leash disguised as a gift, and I had no idea what it did or how to break it.

The morning sun broke over the mountain peaks, pouring golden light through our dormitory window.

I stood in front of the small vanity mirror, holding up the only remaining outfit I owned from home. It was a faded brown linen tunic with frayed cuffs and patched trousers that looked more like rags than proper scholar attire.

I turned to the girls, who were lacing up their boots. "When do you think the Academy gives first-years our official uniforms?"

Bren snorted as she pulled her belt tight. "They don’t. First-years don’t get official faction uniforms until second year—or unless you earn high merit marks."

My shoulders slumped. I looked down at my two worn-out Stonewick tunics. One was stained with drainage mud from two nights ago, and the other was literally unraveling at the hem.

I needed money. I needed to find a way to hustle for copper coins just to buy a basic cotton shirt from the campus market.

A dry laugh escaped my lips. It was hilarious how much this place was changing me. A week ago, I was struggling just to avoid village gossipmongers, and now I was sitting here actively planning a side-hustle like a market vendor just so I didn’t look like a beggar during classes.

The dormitory corridor was a bustling hive of noise as initiates spilled out into the halls.

"My life is ruined," Miriel whimpered, dragging her feet beside us with a heartbreaking pout. "I stood in the Portal Hall for an hour yesterday, crushed between a hundred screaming initiates, and Prince Ivar wasn’t even on the Mission squad!"

Bren chuckled, adjusting her satchel. "Told you not to waste your time."

"He’s a third-year prince! He should have been leading them!" Miriel whined, dramatically throwing her hands over her eyes. "Instead, we got Lady Cicily. Do you have any idea how terrifying that fourth-year dragon is?! She marched past us in battle plate with that huge runic sword, looking like she wanted to slaughter the entire crowd just for breathing near her path! Everyone literally backed up against the walls in complete terror!"

"Cicily is the most powerful female warrior in this Academy," Bren noted, her eyes gleaming with respect which was literally the first time I’d seen Bren idolize anyone. "She doesn’t play games. If Rector Maddox put her in charge of the emergency squad, whatever happened is serious."

"Well, her scary face ruined my romantic afternoon. I wanted dark armor and wolf smiles, not fourth-year dragon threats." Miriel huffed, crossing her arms.

Hearing Miriel getting so serious with her infatuation with the wolf Prince was making my skin crawl. Was I protecting her by not telling the truth or was this a betrayal of her trust?

I couldn’t tell.

I no longer knew right from wrong and could not even make a single decision I was sure of. And this... this all began ever since I stepped into this godforsaken realm. No... it was ever since I met them.

The princes.

Bren turned her attention to me. "Tobin’s official disciplinary hearing with the council is tomorrow morning. I can’t wait to hear what Warden Clement uncovered."

I paused as we turned the corner toward the courtyard. "You know... it’s strange. We haven’t had a single attack or threat since Tobin was locked in the detention vaults two days ago. Does that mean he really was the real attacker the entire time?"

"Of course it was him!" Miriel chimed in, tossing her hair. "He wanted to trick us into thinking it wasn’t him so Warden Clement would release him! But the wardens are too smart for that."

"I just wonder how Commander Clement is holding up with the whole investigation. You know, he can’t afford to make a mistake...," Bren remarked quietly, her eyes flickering toward the Academy Security building.

Instantly, Miriel and I stopped in our tracks. We turned our heads in unison, staring at Bren with matching, wicked grins.

"Oh?" I purred, nudging Bren’s shoulder with my elbow. "Commander Clement, is it?"

"The stern, hot commander. Who knew you like them older?" Miriel gasped, her disappointment over Ivar gone as a sly smile spread across her face. "Bren! Do you have a thing for the stern, hot as a flame commander?!"

Bren’s cheeks instantly flushed crimson. She reached for her dagger hilt defensively. "Shut up! Both of you! I was asking a completely normal tactical question!"

"A tactical question about his handsome jawline?" I teased, laughing as Bren tried to shove past us.

"Spill it, Bren!" Miriel giggled, skipping in front of her to block her path. "Did he look at you when we were at his office yesterday?! Is there a secret romance brewing between the huntress and the commander?!"

"If either of you says another word. I will use both of you for target practice during field training!" Bren growled, her face burning as she stomped toward the Great Hall doors.

We laughed, hurrying after her into the hall.

The dining hall was a hive of morning activity. Hundreds of initiates were packed together, filling the high-vaulted room with overlapping voices, the sharp clatter of silverware, and the rich scents of spiced pastries and roasted meats.

Standing right beside the entrance was Discipline Warden Silas.

He was draped in a high-collared black coat, his eyes sweeping across the crowded aisles. He was making sure there was absolute order today.

As Bren, Miriel, and I stepped through the archway, Silas’s gaze locked onto us.

His eyes stayed on my face. He didn’t speak a word, nor did he shift his posture, but the icy glare he threw at me was a silent warning: Cause one drop of trouble today, and I will personally throw you into the deepest vault of the Dragon Quadrant.

I swallowed down the sudden lump in my throat, keeping my gaze straight ahead as we walked past him.

Walking back into this hall felt deeply surreal. My stomach twisted as I looked around at the restored stone pillars and immaculate marble floor. Just yesterday morning, Prince Zev had dragged me in here by my hand, shattered a dining table, and engaged in a bloody, wild brawl with Prince Remus—all over me.

The moment we passed the threshold, whispers flew through the nearest tables. Students ducked their heads together behind menu cards, casting mocking glances toward my frayed Stonewick tunic.

"Don’t look at them," I whispered to myself, pulling my chin up and shoulders back. I had promised myself I would act cool, unbothered, and entirely indifferent to the gossip, no matter how much their glaring eyes burned.