"Where have Lux and Frore gone?" I muttered under my breath, scanning the west corridors and garden for the hundredth time. "I told them to come back early. I have somewhere to be yet they've been gone for three hours."
My irritation simmered hotter with every passing minute.
"And those two little fuckers are concealing their mana signatures," I added. "They're doing something they shouldn't."
Just you two wait. When I get my hands on you—"I'm sorry…"
I walked straight into someone.
Not lightly. Not gracefully.
My forehead and nose met what felt like a stone wall disguised as a chest. Pain shot through my face and I stepped back, rubbing my nose with a glare already prepared for whoever had dared exist in my path.
"It's quite all right," the man said calmly.
The voice was deep, smooth, and edged with quiet authority. Familiar enough to make my annoyance pause mid-breath.
I looked up.
Recognition hit instantly.
"Your Highness?" I whispered.
Up close, there was no mistaking him, the posture, the composure, the effortless presence of someone born above the rest of the world. Even dressed plainly, without royal colours or insignia, nobility clung to him like a second shadow.
I lowered my voice further. "What are you doing here… alone?"
It made no sense. Someone of his status doesn't walk around freely, not without knights, escorts, watchers, and at least three or ten shadows guarding them.
"It's been a while since we last saw each other, hasn't it, Lady Florence," he said with a faint, knowing smile.
I narrowed my eyes slightly. "You didn't answer my question."
"I'm here incognito," he replied easily. "Knights and escorts tend to attract attention. Attention tends to attract unnecessary problems."
"That sounds exactly like something you would say after causing those problems yourself," I muttered.
His smile deepened unashamedly.
"Besides," he continued, slipping a hand inside his coat, "I came to see you personally. And to give you something important."
"Important things are usually delivered through official channels," I said. "Preferably sealed and stamped."
He pulled out a cream-colored envelope edged in subtle gold filigree far too refined to be ordinary mail and held it toward me.
"And yet," he said softly, "some things are too important to trust to other hands."
I reached for it.
He pulled it back at the last second.
I stared at him flatly.
"…Really?"
"Why don't we take a little stroll first?" he suggested, smirking like a man who enjoyed being difficult on purpose. "Important conversations shouldn't happen so openly where everyone grows ears."
He really does whatever he pleases. Honestly at this point I should just start charging him for all the chaos he causes me.
And if I'm being painfully honest?
This is my fault.
Entirely.
Undeniably my fault.
I spoiled him rotten.
I let things slide. I covered for him. I fixed his messes one too many times. And now look at him fully grown, fully powerful, fully insufferable dragging me around at his pace like I signed a lifelong contract to manage his nonsense.
This is what happens when you overwater a plant. It becomes a vine. Then it strangles your house.
Wonderful.
He walks like the world will adjust its schedule for him. It does. Talks like consequences are optional. Decides things like everyone else is a side character in his story.
I should smack him.
Just once. A clean, corrective, older-sister smack straight to the back of the head.
Unfortunately, we are in public. Unfortunately, he is royalty. Unfortunately, striking him would be labeled treason instead of discipline.
Laws are so restrictive.
I straightened my posture, locked my expression into that graceful, diplomatic smile I reserve for royalty, nobles, and people I want to throttle.
If anyone looked closely, they might notice the smile had the emotional warmth of polished marble.
I dipped my head slightly, voice smooth, respectful and absolutely loaded with long-suffering big-sister energy.
"As you wish, Your Highness."
He made me escort him.
With this kind of authority, which only royalty wields. I ended up walking half the academy grounds beside him while he spoke about the most painfully ordinary things imaginable: weather patterns, architectural symmetry, tea blends, student festivals from other nations as if he were not the crown prince.
Meanwhile, I was internally calculating how fast I could fake my own disappearance. Being seen with the Crown Prince is like moths are to a flame. Not that I particularly care what anyone thinks or says.
Then he asked the one question that backed me straight into a corner.
"Show me your favourite place here."
My steps slowed.
Favourite place?
Does it even exist?
I couldn't exactly take the crown prince to the Abyss Forest unless he wished to be eaten or cursed. The highest rooftop I frequented was forbidden to students. The archives were restricted and monitored. These are absolutely not an option unless I wanted a national incident.
Which left only one safe location.
The only place I absolutely did not want to go with him.
I sighed internally. I just hope no one is there.
And if they are, may they have the good sense to remain silent. Anyone saying something stupid in front of His Highness will not be surviving the aftermath.
Since when has luck ever favoured me?
The moment we stepped into the pavilion clearing, I groaned quietly.
Of course, they were there.
The trio.
My peace's natural predators.
Many students who noticed us but kept their distance. Seniors and even a few professors tried to approach, curiosity written all over their faces but one calm glance from the crown prince stopped them mid-step and sent them retreating like rats.
But these three? More specifically Vivian and Cassian. Them and the crown prince are the worst possible combination. They hesitated at first after calmly assessing the situation. There would be no stopping them.
Oh no. That was the moment I knew it was over.
"We greet His Highness the Crown Prince," they said in unison, bowing. "May the glory of the Dragon and Sun be upon us."
"At ease," he replied smoothly, taking a seat as if this were all perfectly normal and not a disaster unfolding in slow motion.
It was a good idea to have chairs out here in the farthest corner of the academy.
That vermin sat right there as it was the most natural occurrence.
I had been perfectly happy not seeing his face until the bet's deadline. Fate, however, clearly enjoyed comedy.
Before I could turn around and pretend to vanish, Vivian and Cassian grabbed my arms and dragged me a step back.
Their whispers were sharp and urgent.
"Why are you with the crown prince?" Vivian hissed.
"And why did you bring him here instead of the Headmaster's office?" Cassian added.
"We go way back," I answered calmly.
"WHAT?!" they whisper-yelled together.
I smiled pleasantly through clenched patience. "Don't just stand there. Sit. It's rude and His Highness is watching."
That worked instantly.
They sat mischief gleaming in their eyes.
I moved to the table and began preparing tea, setting out cups and a proper assortment with steady hands and a perfectly composed expression the picture of noble elegance.
Internally, however, I was screaming.
Between the prince, the bet, the vermin, and my friends —
This table wasn't a tea setting.
It was a recipe for disaster in making.
We sat in silence for several long minutes, the kind that stretched thin and fragile over porcelain cups and rising steam. Only the faint clink and the whisper of wind through the courtyard trees disturbed it. No one dared speak first, not with the crown prince seated among us like a calm, smiling catastrophe.
Then, at last, His Highness broke the quiet.
"Are these three your friends, Lady Florence?"
The question was gentle.
The trap inside it was not.
Vivian and Cassian, yes. Without question.
But that vermin?
Friend was too generous. A nuisance. Ongoing problem. Future victim perhaps. But friend? Absolutely not.
Unfortunately, if I said that aloud, I'd earn a sermon about cooperation, unity, emotional maturity, and other exhausting topics delivered by someone younger than me and he'll be far too pleased with himself.
I sighed internally, sacrificing my pride for convenience.
"Yes," I said at last, forcing the words out through my teeth. "All three of them are my friends."
The table froze.
Vivian blinked.
Cassian nearly dropped his cup.
The vermin looked personally offended by the promotion.
Yes, yes. I know. I sound insane. Let's move on.
"In hell—" he started.
Nox cut him off instantly with his hand. He, too, had suffered enough royal lectures in the past to recognize danger signs.
One by one they introduced themselves properly. Titles, departments, specialities — the full ceremonial nonsense. His Highness listened with polite patience that didn't quite hide his amusement.
Then he laughed softly.
"You didn't need to go to such lengths," he said. "I already know who her friends are and who are not."
His gaze slid deliberately to that vermin.
I narrowed my eyes. "Since when did you grow up just to tease people?"
"Since it became effective," he replied smoothly.
"If you keep this up, I'm not attending your birthday banquet."
"That would be unfortunate," he said lightly.
At last finally he handed me the envelope he'd been tormenting me with all afternoon.
"Your invitation," he said. "You cannot decline this banquet. Father specifically wants you present." His smile sharpened slightly. "And this time bring a partner."
"I'll attend," I answered. "But I won't be bringing a partner."
Vivian choked on air.
Cassian made a strangled noise.
"You won't?" the prince repeated.
"I won't."
He leaned back, studying me like a chessboard that had just made a bold move.
"Then you leave me no choice." His tone turned formally pleasant which was always dangerous. "Cecilia Florence, you will be escorted to the royal banquet by Asier."
I stood up instantly. "I refuse."
"You can't," he said calmly, smirking now. "It's an order. I offered you a choice. You selected the consequence yourself."
…He really just used the crown prince card on me.
Unbelievable.
"If you'll excuse me," he said, "I have prior appointments to attend."
If the Crown Prince thought he could make me attend the banquet with that vermin.
He's absolutely right.
I could ignore nobles, insult professors, sidestep royal aides, and accidentally-on-purpose forget protocol… but I could not ignore a direct order from the heir to the throne.
Still, I would rather dramatically fake my death than walk into a royal banquet arm-in-arm with him.
Of all people, he could've chosen Cassian who is civilized, polished and would be a great choice to stand next to. But no. He had to pick the worst possible option.
What did he even see in him?
Trouble? Entertainment? A personal joke at my expense?
"If you think I'll go willingly," he said coldly, turning toward me, "you're mistaken."
I scoffed. "Like I want to go with you."
I folded my arms. "Be grateful I didn't finish what I started after your little restraint stunt."
His eyes narrowed. "You poisoned me."
"I gave you the antitode. You're welcome."
"Both of you stop," Cassian cut in quickly, physically stepping between us like a man diffusing a magical bomb. "Please. This is a royal banquet, not a battlefield. The high society is a cruel place. One wrong word, one wrong expression, and rumours will eat you alive."
He looked between us with genuine concern.
"This will be your first banquet together. At least try to behave. Don't cause a scene. Don't threaten anyone. Don't poison anyone. Don't kill each other."
He wasn't wrong. Noble banquets weren't dances; they were hunting grounds with chandeliers. Smiles were weapons. Compliments were traps. One misstep could echo for years.
I exhaled slowly. He's right. I can't afford to lose control there.
Then a thought hit me.
"Wait," I said, turning back to him. "Why are you giving such a long lecture when I'm the one attending?"
Cassian blinked. "Because I'm attending too."
I stared.
"…You are?"
"Yes. The invitation was sent to our ducal household. Father and my brother can't attend, so they're sending me as their representative."
Ah.
That explained the speech. The unnecessary wisdom.
"No wonder you're yapping so much," I muttered.
"I am not yapping," he protested.
"You absolutely are."
That vermin smirked. "Good. Then you can babysit her."
"I don't need a babysitter," I said flatly.
"You needed one while running through the academy screaming," he replied.
That bastard was the one who chased me like a rabid dog across half the academy, and somehow I'm the one paying the price for it.
I should never have given him the antidote. I should have let him stay paralyzed for the entire week, let him reflect on his life choices while staring at the ceiling and regretting every decision that led him to cross me.
If I'd done that, I wouldn't be in this situation right now.
Forced into a royal banquet. Escorted by a temple-bred menace.
I dragged a hand down my face. I can't decline an invitation issued under His Majesty's authority.
"What did I ever do to deserve this kind of torture…" I muttered.
A beat passed.
Oh. Right.
The war. The bodies. The blood. The decisions I never regretted are only remembered.
"…Ah," I sighed softly. "Karma."
If divine punishment had a sense of humour, this would be it.
I'm willing to do anything so that vermin disappear before the banquet.
Even if he did vanish under mysterious and unfortunate circumstances, they'd still drag me there alone and pair me with some jewelled peacock of a noble heir.
I slumped back in my chair.
"I'm stuck, aren't I?"
"You sure are," Nox said cheerfully, grinning with zero sympathy.
I exhaled slowly, then looked at that vermin with the expression of someone making a painful but necessary sacrifice for the stability of the world.
"Fine," I said straightening up. "Let's call a truce for the banquet. We attend, we behave, we don't try to kill each other, and afterwards we go our separate ways and pretend none of this ever happened."
My generosity was historic. It should've been recorded.
He studied me with narrowed eyes, like he was searching for hidden explosives in the sentence.
"A temporary ceasefire?" he said.
"Yes."
He considered it another moment, then nodded once. "Sure. Why not? I have my own circumstances too."
That sounded suspiciously layered, but not my problem right now.
"Great," Cassian said instantly, clapping once like a delighted coordinator of suffering. "Then the four of us will go for dress fittings together."
I recoiled. "I already have dresses."
"You're still coming," he replied smoothly.
"I can lend Vivi one of mine if she wants," I continued, ignoring him. "Or we'll have something custom-made for her. You…" I pointed at the vermin, "...can go separately."
"No can do," Cassian said. "We're going together. Because I know you two will fight despite declaring a truce."
"We won't," he and I said at the exact same time.
We both turned and glared at each other immediately after.
Cassian smiled in vindication. "That right there is exactly why I'm coming."
How in the world was I supposed to get along with him for an entire banquet?
An entire evening of smiling nobles, hidden knives behind polite laughter, and calculated conversations and I was expected to survive it all while chained to that menace.
I needed a strategy. A survival plan. Possibly a fake illness.
Then another horrifying thought struck me.
Does this bastard even know proper banquet etiquette? Can he dance? Or is he going to stomp across the floor like a war horse in formalwear?
I stopped.
This was dangerous.
I quickly remembered Vivian and Cassian still had classes and in the name of self-preservation shooed them away before they could attach themselves to the disaster any further.
Silence settled once they left.
I turned slowly toward him and sighed like a martyr accepting fate.
"You," I said through clenched teeth, "do you actually know how to conduct yourself at a royal banquet, or do I need to teach you everything from scratch how to bow, speak, and table manners?"
He glanced at me over his shoulder, unimpressed. "Worry about yourself."
"I'll be the one standing next to you when you embarrass us both."
"I can take care of myself," he said, already walking ahead as this conversation bored him.
"Oh and one more thing," I called out loudly.
He didn't stop, but I knew he was listening.
"It's mandatory for partners to match colours at the banquet."
He halted mid-step.
And froze.
Slowly very slowly he turned his head just enough for me to see the betrayal in his eyes, as I'd personally rewritten royal law to spite him.
His reaction was priceless.
After a beat, he shouted back one word:
"Black."
I smirked. Perfect.
"Good," I called back. "That way when you ruin the evening, you'll already be dressed for your funeral."
We barely had time to breathe before the day of the banquet arrived the same day the bet's deadline loomed over our heads like a guillotine politely waiting its turn.
The palace carriage arrived right on schedule, lacquered black with gold insignia blazing on its doors, drawn by two high-bred white horses that looked more disciplined than half the academy. Even the driver wore ceremonial gloves. His Majesty did not do subtle gestures, only heavy ones.
Cassian and Vivian had already left a day early that brat, had used the opportunity with surgical precision and invited Vivian as his partner.
Smooth. Efficient. Impressive.
I made a mental note to interrogate him later.
Which left me here.
Standing at the dormitory entrance in full formal attire, waiting to attend a royal banquet on the arm of the one person I would least choose even under magical coercion.
We exchanged a glance. Nothing more.
No greeting. No insult. No provocation.
It felt unnatural. Like two predators agreeing not to bite before witnesses arrived.
We entered the carriage without a word. The door shut. The driver snapped the reins. The academy faded behind us.
The silence inside was thick enough to chew.
Normally by now we would've exchanged at least three verbal attacks and one assassination threat. Instead, nothing. Just the steady rhythm of wheels and the faint sway of motion.
I watched the passing city through the window, thoughts running faster than the horses.
What exactly was this banquet for?
Royal events were never random. Never casual. Never meaningless.
It wasn't the Emperor's birthday. Not a victory celebration. No diplomatic summit had been announced. No seasonal festival either. Which meant one thing:
This was political.
And when royalty said political, it usually meant dangerous but decorated nicely.
Across from me, he sat still, too still posture straight, gaze forward, not even pretending to look bored. Observing. Calculating. Prepared.
We didn't speak the entire ride. Not one word. Not even accidental noise. It should've been awkward instead it felt like the quiet before a battlefield signal.
By the time the palace gates came into view, lit in gold and crystal light, my instincts were fully awake.
The royal palace did not glow, it dominated.
This was not just a banquet. This was a display of power.
The carriage rolled to a stop.
I reached for the door handle and he moved first.
Of course he did.
The door opened from outside, but before I could step down, his arm crossed slightly in front of me, a subtle block.
I turned slowly.
Seriously?
He stepped down first, then turned and extended his hand upward toward me formal, composed, unmistakably proper escort protocol.
I blinked.
Once.
Twice.
This was the same man who called me a demon three times last week.
Now he was standing like a textbook noble escort illustration.
Suspicious.
Extremely suspicious.
I placed my hand in his anyway. His grip was steady. Warm. Controlled.
Then he linked our arms correctly at the elbow precise angle, correct positioning not improvised, not guessed.
Practiced.
I looked at him from the corner of my eye.
What exactly is he doing today?
Because he's not acting like himself.
His expression remained neutral, gaze forward, scanning the surroundings without turning his head.
"Relax", Nox said softly. "Don't overthink it."
That's exactly what people say right before things explode.
I exhaled slowly and shifted my focus outward instead of inward.
"You're unusually well-behaved," I murmured under my breath without moving my lips.
"So are you," he replied just as quietly.
"I'm always well-behaved."
"Evidence says otherwise."
"Fake records."
"Multiple witnesses."
"Conspiracy."
We reached the entrance doors twenty feet high, sun-and-dragon crests carved in goldwood.
And just like that the game board revealed itself.
Because whatever this banquet was
It had already begun long before we arrived.
To be continued....