Chapter Forty-Four — Quills, Questions, and Quiet Princesses
(First-person, Mavis)
When I woke the next morning, I wasn't in a void, or on a frozen throne, or choking on seawater. For once, I woke up in a bed that wasn't about to fall apart at the seams.
The sunlight streaming through the enchanted window was warm, soft, almost suspiciously gentle. I blinked against it, rubbing the sleep from my newly blessed eye—which still ached faintly, like something sharp was adjusting inside my skull.
Jerry was curled on my chest like a judgmental cat. When I sat up, he slid off with a thump.
"Oof—Mavis, warn me next time you move your ribcage."
"I'll be sure to file a notice," I muttered.
Movement caught my eye.
Seraphina stood by her closet, already dressed in her academy uniform—dark navy blazer, crisp white shirt, fitted trousers tucked neatly into polished boots. She looked every bit the model noble: composed, tidy, calm.
When she turned, her hazel eyes softened faintly.
"You're awake."
I cleared my throat. "Yeah. Mostly."
"Good." She straightened the collar of her blazer. "Your written exam is this morning. If you'd slept any longer, I would have had to wake you myself."
Jerry whispered, "Oh no. A princess leaning over your bed? How tragic."
I elbowed him under the blanket.
Seraphina pretended not to notice—though her lips twitched, like she was holding back a smile.
"I laid out your uniform," she added, gesturing to the neatly folded navy set on my desk. "It arrived while you were still recovering."
I blinked. "…Did you iron it?"
"Of course."
"Why?"
"You're representing the Valefleur dorm wing," she said simply. "It would reflect poorly if you arrived looking… rumpled."
"I don't arrive rumpled," I protested.
She glanced at my hair—which currently resembled a bird's nest.
"…Usually."
I groaned and threw myself out of bed.
By the time I wrestled myself into the uniform (which fit unsettlingly well), Seraphina was waiting by the door.
"You look fine," she said when I pulled at the sleeves for the fifth time.
"Fine as in acceptable," Jerry translated. "Not fine as in attractive."
"JERRY."
Seraphina coughed into her sleeve—definitely stifling a laugh.
"Shall we?" she asked.
We walked together down the dorm hall. I expected silence, but Seraphina wasn't as aloof in the mornings as she'd seemed last night.
"Your swordsmanship ranking is impressive," she said. "Alya mentioned you trained alone for most of your life."
"Something like that," I said, trying to sound like a noble who'd had private tutors. Not… whatever I actually was.
"And your summon," she continued lightly. "He seems strong."
Jerry rose proudly on my shoulder. "I am not strong. I am mighty."
Seraphina blinked. "…He talks."
"Oh, yes," I said. "Unfortunately."
Jerry hissed.
Seraphina's laugh was soft—barely more than a breath—but real.
The testing building was a large circular structure with stained glass windows depicting historical battles and magical achievements. Students filed inside in tense silence.
Seraphina glanced at me before splitting off. "Good luck, Mavis."
"Thanks. You too."
She nodded once and disappeared into the higher-ranked entrance.
I entered through the general door, Jerry tucked smugly inside my collar like some sort of illegal contraband.
Inside, rows of desks waited. A stern instructor slapped a packet in front of me.
"Name?"
"M-Mavis Van Buqeat."
He checked the list and nodded. "Rank results pending. Begin when ready."
The test was… a nightmare.
World history I'd glanced at before. Fine.
Mathematical theory? Evil.
Noble etiquette? Terrifying.
Monster taxonomy? I drew a picture and prayed it worked.
Written sword theory? Easy.
Alchemy? I bullshitted every answer with confidence.
Jerry peeked over my shoulder. "That is not how you mix a binding agent."
"I'm improvising," I whispered back.
"Improvising is not alchemy."
"It is today."
When I finally set down my quill, my hand was cramping like it had aged forty years.
The instructor collected my test without a word.
I found my schedule slot for my first class: Magic Theory — S Rank.
My heart hammered. I couldn't even cast properly—my last spell turned into a drowning bubble.
I walked into the enormous lecture hall and froze.
Nobles filled nearly every seat. Students murmured to each other, comparing spell efficiency, lineage, elemental affinities—flexing power like breathing.
I felt like an imposter wearing someone else's skin.
Then Seraphina looked up from her seat in the center row.
When her eyes met mine, she tilted her head toward the empty seat beside her.
Invitation.
Jerry flicked his tongue smugly. "See? She likes you."
"She does NOT—this is just manners—"
But Seraphina smiled faintly.
And something in my chest fluttered.
I walked toward her and sat down, trying not to trip over my own feet.
"You made it," she said quietly.
"Barely."
"You'll be fine."
Her confidence was unnervingly reassuring.
A professor swept into the hall, robes trailing magic that shimmered like heatwaves.
"Welcome to S-Rank Magic Theory," he announced. "If you're here, the academy expects exceptional things from you."
Great.
No pressure.