Valeria's boots carried her past the last archway into the dormitory quarter, her pace unhurried, measured.
It had been happening since she arrived, after all.
Since she'd settled into her temporary dormitory. Since she made the mistake—or the deliberate choice—of walking toward Lucavion during the banquet.
It was deliberate, of course.
And she didn't regret it.
But that didn't mean the others agreed.
To them, it had been a misstep. A visible one. A message.
To walk toward him. Not away.
That was the mistake.
'I kind of expected it…'
She wasn't a fool. A knight, yes—but not blind. Her blade might be her focus, but she had grown up in a house where politics hung thicker than incense.
'Smile when the prince walks by, even if your teeth grind. That's what your father told you, remember?'
She remembered. She always did.
And now here she was.
The girl who stood beside the boy who challenged a prince.
