“Even your court can’t rewrite all the truths locked in these shelves. At least not if you look hard enough,” His voice was low, steady. Not threatening. Or Worse. It was sincere.
He stepped forward, catching candlelight on the edges of his defined muscles, highlighting every single one.
“I like history,” he continued. “Legacy. The kind no one dares to speak aloud.” My eyes were wide open, almost believing his words, but I knew better.
“Are you here to kill me? Intimidate me?” I asked. The words came out sharply; instinct already braced for the strike I searched for in his eyes. He didn’t answer.
My throat tightened. I didn’t want to show weakness. I couldn’t let him see my fear. He almost looked bored. “And why would I want to kill you, Princess?”
Perhaps he was not going to kill me, but he didn’t deny my other question. Perhaps he was here to intimidate me, and it was working. I was scared, I couldn’t deny it. He was close, so close I could feel the warmth of his breath. Every instinct screamed danger. He was taller than I expected, steady, unyielding, the kind of presence that filled the air like a storm waiting to break. My heart thudded hard against my ribs, loud enough that I was sure he could hear it. I wanted to step back, to run, but pride kept me rooted. I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.
“Besides, not that I can kill you, right? You were called to Dragontail.” Lorik said with a humorless grin. I swallowed hard. Perhaps if I weren’t Dragontail, he would have?
But I was not going to fall prey to his game. I needed to shake off the fear. “You hate my family.” I finally said. I kept my voice steady.
“Now that is true,” he murmured, gaze narrowing.
“Why?” I asked almost immediately.
He studied me, then: “You’ll have to figure that out.”
Silence pressed around us like stone, and I stood strong. I didn’t even move an inch. “I won’t be an easy prey,” I said with challenge. “I’m not weak if that’s what you think.”
“You may not be weak, but you are afraid,” he said, tilting his head.
The words landed softly. Like a blade laid against the skin instead of cutting it but sharp enough to bleed. He stripped me bare, even if I were trying all I could to not show it.
I straightened. “I am not afraid.”
The way he looked at me like as if I was both a test and a threat. That made my skin prickle. I couldn’t tell if he wanted to destroy me or understand me. And somehow, I didn’t know which would be worse.
He looked at me like I was a puzzle made of fire.
And some reckless part of me wanted him to solve it.
Then, from the shelf nearby, a noise broke the silence. Perhaps a person, perhaps just a book falling from a shelf.
Lorik’s eyes flickered toward the sound, then back to me.
He dropped his voice. “I didn’t come here to kill you or intimidate you.” Then he tilted his head, the corner of his mouth lifting, not a smile, something sharper. “There are worse things than getting killed, Princess.”
He said it like a slur wrapped in silk. Like the title tasted foul in his mouth. Each syllable was enunciated with deliberate mockery, equal parts of disdain, defiance, and something that sounded dangerously close to challenge.
The word hit harder than any blade. A reminder of everything I was… and everything he despised.
Before I could speak, before I could breathe, he turned and vanished between the shelves. His magic had already unraveled, silent and gone. But the sting of that one word pulsed through my chest like a curse.
Chapter 5: Dragontail Atrium
Iwoke the next day to gray light bleeding through the tower windows, thin, muted, the kind that leeches color from the world until everything feels hollow. My body might as well have been carved from stone. Just one day of choices, revelations, and danger had pressed so deeply into my bones that it was a wonder I could move at all.
For a long moment, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling as the weight of everything settled over me. Standing before the Siren. Exposing myself to the entire Kingdom, showing them I wasn’t the obedient princess they expected, but someone who wanted to fight rather than rule. Every choice I made had been another stone dropped into still water, and the ripples were spreading, far beyond the parts of the island I’d ever seen. And I’d made enemies before I’d even stepped into my first class.
When I finally rose, Soehl’s bed was already made. My reflection in the narrow mirror confirmed what I felt, shadowssmudged beneath my eyes, skin pale, my warm brown hair an unbrushed tangle. Yet even through the exhaustion, my golden eyes blazed back at me, bright as the sun. I scraped my long hair into a sleek ponytail, tugging until the pull on my scalp cut through the fog. A swipe of blush across my cheeks, a touch beneath my eyes, not vanity, but armor. A way to look less like someone who’d spent the night wrestling with the weight of a crown she had just thrown away.
The Dragontail sigil inked on my arm gleamed, unyielding, alive with its own pulse. I brushed my fingers over it and felt the magic thrum back. It was not a dream.
I traded my pajamas for the green Dragontail uniform. The high-waisted trousers hugged my hips and legs like a second skin. In the dark night when I wore it to the library, I didn’t examine it up close. Every seam was tailored for movement and precision. The cropped long sleeve top fastened up to a sharp collar. Its dark green fabric was trimmed with faint gold stitching that caught the morning light. My midriff stayed bare between the two pieces, part tradition, part intimidation. The uniform wasn’t just clothing; it was a declaration of allegiance. From now on, my body, strength, and will belong to Dragontail.