Then Zyon walked over to Celia, as casual as if he’d just finished a morning jog rather than beating the collective crap out of us innocent fellows.
"I’m going to get my wounds treated. Can I?"
Celia blinked—just a little too long. For a moment, even she was stunned. But she caught herself fast, her voice crisp and composed.
"Yeah, sure. You can go."
Zyon gave her a small nod and turned, walking off like nothing had happened. No swagger. No dramatics. Just that eerie calm he always had.
Meanwhile, Art pushed himself up from the wreckage of the training ground and looked straight at me with blood crusting his temple and his coat half burned.
"Why did we gang up on him again?"
I shrugged, dragging myself up with the elegance of a dying old man. "Maybe because our shared braincells decided that was a smart idea. Or maybe it was pure delusion."
Art nodded like he was analyzing some great philosophical truth. "Yeah. Both it is."
We both limped like war veterans returning from the front lines. I was fresh out of the Cryo pods and it felt like I’d already earned myself another day inside. My body ached in places I didn’t even know could ache.
’Now I get why those medical wards are everywhere.’
I dragged myself to the closest bench, plopped down, and let out a sigh that probably carried the weight of my entire existence.
I needed a breather. A long one. Preferably with coffee, or a coma.
And then Amelia joined me.
She quietly sat beside me, her skirt brushing against my leg, and for a second I caught the faint scent of violets and ink.
She didn’t say anything at first—just sat there. Then finally:
"Was that really necessary?"
I gave her a tired, wry smile. "Probably not. But I just felt like doing it, y’know? Never tried that? Doing something just because it felt right?"
I nudged her with my shoulder, just lightly, teasing.
She looked down and smiled, but there was something soft and distant in her eyes. "Yeah. Don’t know how it feels."
That hit me a little harder than I expected.
Yeah. She really was a princess—of both name and burden. Born into power, groomed for legacy.
Amelia Everhart didn’t get the luxury of spontaneity. Everything she did had to be calculated, measured, polished like her bloodline’s legacy depended on it.
Especially here in Alaris.
She wasn’t even in her own continent anymore.
Everharts hailed from Mythria, that faraway continent split between two kingdoms constantly at each other’s throats.
One, the Everharts’ own dominion—full of honor, pride, and pressure.
The other, Opalcrest, full of ambition, bloodlust, and the worst part? War was on the horizon.
Everyone knew it. In a few weeks, the continent would light up with fire and screams. It was inevitable.
That tension leaked into her, too. You could see it.
The way her shoulders tensed. The way she kept her head bowed like she wasn’t allowed to take up too much space.
She was brooding again. one moment—this one act of watching me fight and laugh—reminded her how little freedom she actually had.
I couldn’t let her keep sinking like that.
It was something innate. I couldn’t keep seeing people like that, it irked me the wrong way.
So without thinking much, my hand reached over and rested gently on her back, moving slowly in calming circles.
"Hey," I said, my voice softer now, almost a whisper. "That’s not something to feel bad about. Your life isn’t over just because of the weight on your name. You’ve only just stepped into adulthood. A whole Chapter’s opening up in front of you."
She didn’t respond, but I could feel her listening.
"We’re here now. Rose Academy. And here, we’re just... us. No houses, no bloodlines, no crowns or expectations hanging over our necks like nooses. Just us."
My hand moved up slowly from her back to her face. My fingers brushed her cheek, gently cupping it.
"Do what you want. Nobody’s stopping you here. Nobody’s got the right. And if they try—if they talk, push, threaten, or dare question you—ignore them. But if they don’t back down?"
I smiled, wide and wicked.
"Call me. I’ll handle it. Happily."
I didn’t even know what I was saying at that point. Maybe I was just ranting. Maybe it was the adrenaline. Or maybe—maybe I meant every damn word.
Her eyes paused on my face, reading something there, and for a moment, time did that thing again—slowed.
A genuine, mesmerizing smile.
The kind that didn’t belong to a princess or a diplomat or a figure of nobility.
And in that moment... damn. I forgot all about the bruises.
But someone else didn’t.
A cough—loud, pointed, and painfully staged—cut through the atmosphere like an annoyed teacher clearing her throat in a silent classroom.
I side-eyed, fully expecting to see Art or maybe Lilith trying to butt in with some snarky comment or ill-timed joke.
The same Mia I had been casually ignoring this entire time.
Yeah, our earlier banter had ended. She was supposed to be cooling off, reflecting on her mistake—or at the very least, learning not to pull impulsive stunts like that again.
A little cold shoulder never hurt anyone. Consider it brotherly justice.
But of course, she never knew when to quit. And I knew that and that was why some punishment was necessary.
And now—now she wasn’t alone.
She had brought her roommate with her. That tall, silent, always-too-composed chick with glacier eyes and a regal posture like she was born to sit on a throne of judgment.
Golden-eyed, straight-backed, and standing just behind Mia like a damn bodyguard.
The sight alone irritated me.
Like... Why? Why was she standing there like she was Mia’s personal protector?
I was the one who kept Mia out of trouble. I was the one who dragged her away from danger, from idiotic decisions, from herself.
This whole shadow-knight act Verena was pulling? It felt like she was trying to take my place.
And that did not sit right with me.
Mia coughed again, a little louder this time, clearly annoyed I was giving Verena more attention than her.
I turned to her with a half-smile and an arched brow. "What?"
She didn’t answer right away.
Instead, she sat beside me with her usual flair of casual entitlement, like the spot had been hers all along.
Then she motioned to Verena, who silently followed her cue and sat beside her, expression unreadable.
A triangle of awkward tension settled around us. One overly familiar sister, one emotionally constipated roommate, and me—caught between relief and residual annoyance.
Then, Mia grabbed my hand.
Warmth. A faint green hue bled from her palm into mine.
I watched as the light danced across my skin—calming, healing, wrapping around the pain in smooth waves until the worst of it began to fade.
Wounds closed. Aches softened. The burning in my ribs dulled to a manageable throb.
’Fuck yeah!’ I almost cheered aloud.
No Cryo Pods for me tonight. I was finally getting out of this mess with my spine intact.
Of course... that also meant I wouldn’t be seeing that gorgeous nurse again.
Sweat beaded on Mia’s temple. The healing wasn’t instant. It was draining her, bit by bit, and still she didn’t stop.
Her eyes met mine, stern but soft. A clear contrast of concern and irritation.
"You called me reckless, remember?" Her voice was tight, accusing but not hostile. "What exactly... would you call that stunt you just pulled?"
My mind raced through a hundred possible excuses. Something clever. Something logical. Something that sounded remotely justifiable.
And then I gave her the most serious expression I could muster, like I was confessing some grand truth.
She stared at me like she wanted to smack me.
Verena blinked once, then slowly turned to look the other way, clearly deciding this was none of her business.
I held Mia’s gaze without flinching.
Because technically... it wasn’t completely false. I got combat experience from it. And I didn’t die.
That counts as training, right?
Of course, she saw straight through me. She knew it was absolute bullshit. She probably wanted to argue. Wanted to dig in and call me out.
Because technically... it kinda made sense. The type of half-truth that sounded legitimate to anyone but her. And unfortunately for her, logic was on my side today.
She couldn’t do anything.
I had the high ground, and I was riding that smug wave hard.
I leaned back, raised my brows, and gave her that classic "I win" look.
She rolled her eyes so hard I’m pretty sure she saw her past lives.
Then, without another word, she stood up with a sharp exhale and stomped off—heels clicking like thunderclaps—leaving Verena to follow in her trail like a quiet shadow.
Grinning like a genius.
’Ahahahhahahaahahhah!’