Chapter 5 The Dragon Prince

Come next morning and the air in Room 214 was tense. Vanya wouldn't stop pacing while Mabel sat on the edge of her bed, nursing a lukewarm coffee. The Academy felt like a beast holding its breath. Outside, guards marched in pairs, and the usual morning gossip had curdled into fearful whispers about Lady Liandrin’s collapse.

"It’s not just you," Vanya said, catching me watching her. "The whole campus feels like it’s waiting for a bomb to go off.”

Then, she marinated into the topic she wouldn't let off. “And… who knows? Maybe your rejecting the golden boy broke the weather, too."

She flopped onto her bed, ignoring the silver duvet. "Seriously, Jeaine. Kaelene? In Astraea, he's the peak of the food chain. You don’t reject a mate bond. You just... accept it and ride the coat-tails to a comfortable life."

Mabel nodded. "The Moon Goddess gave you a gift, and you treated it like a bad smell."

"Appearances deceive people more often than monsters do," I said.

My voice sounded flat, even to me. They didn't know the monsters behind that cute face. They hadn't seen the sword slide between their own ribs.

Vanya let out a dramatic sigh. "Fine. Stay cryptic. But if the entire Academy starts hating us because of you, I'll tell Lady Crispy von Barbecue to make your hair toast."

I blinked. "You named your dragon Lady Crispy von Barbecue?"

"What?" Vanya frowned. "She looked like she'd appreciate a title."

I couldn't help but shake my head incredulously while Mabel laughed her eyes out. Who names their beasts Lady Crispy Von Barbecue?

Vanya, apparently. It was the first time I’d laughed in two lifetimes, and for a fleeting second, the terror retreated.

But only for a second because laughing feels wrong after rejecting the person I once loved.

Soon, we left for classes and split up in the courtyard. I was left alone, my skin prickling as I headed toward the lecture hall for Political Strategy. Every hallway was different. A classroom that should have been on the third or floor was in the basement. Students I hadn't met until the final years of the war were already wandering the halls, arguing over textbooks.

These subtle changes… They’ll take some getting used to.

I reached the lecture hall for Political Strategy. Most seats were claimed. I scanned the room and found a row of empty chairs next to a young man in dragon-nobility silver.

My brows arched in confused. The entire row around him was empty. Strange. There were students standing at the back of the hall, yet no one had chosen the seats beside him.

Either they feared him...

...or respected him enough not to intrude.

But then again, the young man seemed completely oblivious to the attention. He sat with a book in his hand, turning a page with calmness. His posture radiated a stillness that made the surrounding noise feel trivial.

As I looked even further, I frowned. No… Silver hair, silver eyes… that unnerving composure.

My knees wobbled. It was him. Gideon Ignis.

The commander who had stalled three of my campaigns. The only dragon strategist who had ever forced me into a retreat. The man whose every move I had spent years studying across blood-soaked battlefields.

What was he doing here? We weren't supposed to meet for another four years. My feet rooted themselves to the floor. Every taken seat in the lecture hall suddenly felt like a mistake. But the only empty ones were beside him.

Great.

I forced my legs to move and slid into the seat.

The scent of charred cedar and burning incense drifted toward me. It was achingly familiar. My wolf stirred in response to something I couldn't quite understand.

Against my will, I stole another glance. He was beautiful.

That had always been the problem with dragons. They looked like works of art until they started burning cities.

The years of war had never given me the luxury of noticing details beyond survival. Here, beneath the morning light instead of smoke and fire, I found myself studying the sharp line of his jaw, the way strands of silver hair slipped over his brow as he silently mouthed the words on the page before him.

Heat crept up my neck, and I immediately hated myself for it. I was a General. I was a survivor. I was not a girl who stared at boys in classrooms.

Get a grip, Jeaine.

"Morning," I said, forcing my voice to be neutral.

He didn't look up. He offered a micro-nod, a gesture so dismissive it was almost impressive.

Fine.

I opened my own book, digging my nails into my palm to ground myself. If he wanted to play the arrogant noble, he could do it by himself. I focused on the page, but I could feel him sitting there… I could almost taste him–

The professor entered, cutting off my thoughts—which were unbelievably silly. The man didn't head to the podium. Instead, he strode toward our row.

He stopped beside Gideon and inclined his head in a respectful bow.

"An honor, Your Highness. On behalf of Chancellor Vance, welcome to Astraea Academy. We are grateful you accepted his personal invitation despite the... complicated history between the Academy and House Ignis."

Whispers spread through the room like a virus.

"The Chancellor invited him personally?"

"A Dragon Prince?"

"I thought the Ignis family boycotted Astraea."

The professor turned to the class. "Students, I trust you will extend every courtesy to Gideon Ignis. Future heir of the Ruby Citadel."

My stomach sank. So it wasn't just Vanya. Chancellor Vance hadn't merely changed a few room assignments. He had personally invited Gideon Ignis into Astraea Academy and somehow, in the same field as me.

That had never happened.

In my previous life, House Ignis had treated Astraea with open contempt. They trained their heirs in the Ruby Citadel, far away from the political games of the Shifter Lord. Gideon had never set foot inside these halls as a student.

Yet here he was, sitting beside me. Four years too early. My pulse pounded against my ribs. Vanya. Gideon. The handpicked dormitories. Chancellor Vance.

None of it was coincidence anymore. No… it was too much too soon to be.

Someone was rearranging the pieces on the board before the game had even begun. My memorized future was collapsing faster than I could rebuild it.

How was I supposed to win a war when someone had already rewritten the opening moves?

What was Chancellor Vance looking to gain doing this? What he hatching some kind of plan? If so, what are they and why the fuck are they getting in my way?!

The lecture began, but I didn't hear a word. I was too busy trying to slow my heart rate. Then, the sound of the lecture hall doors being kicked open drowned out the professor's drone.

Three Enforcers marched in, flanked by two royal investigators wearing the crest of the Silver Fang Pack.

The silence that followed was absolute.

The lead investigator didn't bother with a preamble. He stepped into the aisle, eyes scanning the room until they landed on me.

"Jeaine Cauthon."

Liandrin sent for me already?

I stood. My legs felt like lead. The investigator held up an official warrant. The heavy seal of the Shifter Lord’s court gleamed in the light.

"You are under arrest for the attempted poisoning of Lady Liandrin Silver Fang."

WHAT?!

The room inhaled as one. My mind went blank.

Poisoning? I hadn't seen Liandrin. I hadn't even been in the same wing as her.

"That's impossible. I've been on campus for less than twenty-four hours." I shook my head, trying to make sense of the accusation.

The investigator ignored me. He reached into his coat and produced a small vial. The liquid inside was green. "This was recovered from your belongings during the morning inspection."

I looked at the vial. I had never seen it before in my life.

No, no, no. Someone planted it.

Someone saw me as an easy target, a rogue with no name and no protection, and they had executed their play perfectly.

The reality hit me with more force than the sword had years ago. I was no easy prey and I swear by the Moon, I’d show everyone exactly that. I was not a doormat to be trampled upon. I’d die before letting the sufferings I’d endured in my past life follow me into this one.

The Enforcers moved in. Cold iron restraints—the kind used to suppress wolf-shifter magic—clicked around my wrists. The metal burned with a biting sting that leeched the strength from my limbs.

I felt every eye in the room on me. Some were horrified, some were judgmental, but most were simply terrified.

I was burning with shame. I was a General who had led thousands into the teeth of death, and here I was, being shackled like a common thief in front of a lecture hall full of children.

And then, I looked toward the back of the room.

Gideon Ignis hadn't moved. He hadn't stood up, hadn't gasped, hadn't turned his head. He remained exactly as he had been: relaxed, book in hand, eyes fixed on me with a chilling curiosity.

The enemy I fought with sweat and blood in my past life was watching me fail. And the worst part, the part that made me want to scream, was that I felt exposed, seen, and utterly humiliated under his unblinking gaze.

As if he could read my mind, Gideon Ignis closed the book in his lap. It was the first time he'd moved since the investigators entered. His silver eyes met mine and by the Moon, wasn't surprised.

He looked…