Chapter 128
Melgil stirred awake, her lashes fluttering against the soft light spilling in through the tall dormitory windows. The faint aroma of warm bread and seared eggs drifted through the air, accompanied by the quiet clink of cutlery. Blinking the remnants of sleep away, she pushed herself upright, the quilt sliding down her shoulders.
Across the modest yet well-kept room, Daniel stood at the small dining table, setting out plates with methodical precision. The table was built into the space, a standard feature of the dormitoriesmade from sturdy oak polished to a soft sheen, with two matching chairs. The tiny cooking alcove was just behind it, complete with a brass-burnished stove, a narrow marble counter, and shelving stocked with simple kitchenware provided to each resident. A steaming kettle sat on the corner, faint wisps of vapor curling upward in the morning light.
Their room was part of the Northwind Dormitory, one of the seven student housing buildings within the sprawling Royal Academy compound. Northwind was a five-story structure, its pale limestone façade softened by ivy that climbed its edges, framing the tall arched windows. Each floor housed twelve rooms arranged along a central corridor, with high ceilings and wide beams that gave the place a sense of openness despite the compact living quarters.
The dormitory's architecture bore the mark of late Imperial Collegiate style a blend of practical stone masonry and refined artistry. Polished marble steps led to the main double doors, crowned with an ornate crest of the Academy carved into the stone lintel. Inside, polished wooden floors reflected the warm glow of enchanted crystal lanterns, which floated at even intervals along the hallways, humming faintly with stored magic.
The Royal Academy's seven dorm buildings each had their own distinct charm and were spread evenly across the east wing of the compound. Northwind stood closest to the training grounds, favored by students with a rigorous martial schedule. Eastspire, with its pointed roofs and airy balconies, catered to the magically inclined. Silverleaf had enclosed gardens and study nooks. Hollowstone was older and stoic, its heavy stone walls nearly soundproof, perfect for those who valued silence. Dawnrest overlooked the lake and boasted the largest communal dining hall. Ashgate had reinforced stone and an almost fortress-like design for alchemical safety, while Moonwell, the smallest, was tucked near the old library, favored by scholars and archivists.
Despite the Academy's scale and the wide variety of personalities housed within, the dormitories shared a common atmosphere, self-contained little worlds with their own rhythms. Each room was designed for both comfort and function, giving students a sense of independence while still keeping them within the disciplined reach of the Academy's rules.
Melgil's gaze lingered on Daniel as he moved with quiet focus, the sunlight catching in his hair, the steady motion of his hands almost meditative. She thought of the shadows he navigated daily, the letters whispered in secrecy, the unseen threads of power shifting around him. And yet here, in the warmth of the small dorm room, there was only the soft clatter of breakfast and the promise of a quiet morning, at least for now.
Melgil sat up fully, letting the blanket fall so that the morning light traced the curve of her shoulder and the delicate line of her collarbone. It wasn't calculated enough to be called deliberate, but not careless either, a quiet reminder that she was more than a scholar or an informant. She had been many things in her life, and though she bore scars invisible to most eyes, she was still a woman who longed to be seen, admired, and cared for.
Daniel, whether oblivious or simply disciplined, placed a plate in front of her without comment. "Eat while it's warm," he said, settling into his own seat.
She picked up her fork but allowed her gaze to linger on him for a heartbeat longer than necessary, watching the way his hands moved, steady, precise, as if even the simple act of cutting bread was part of a larger, deliberate plan. "You didn't come back until late last night," she remarked, her tone light, but her eyes holding a quiet question. "And yet, here you are, up with the dawn. I wonder if you ever truly rest."
"Rest is relative," Daniel replied, taking a sip of tea. "Some things require thought more than sleep."
She tilted her head slightly, letting a strand of her hair fall forward before tucking it back, her fingers lingering just a moment near her neck. "Then perhaps you'll share some of those thoughts with me. I heard whispers last night… whispers that carried a name I thought long buried Serath Valmoré."
Daniel's eyes narrowed slightly, but his tone remained calm. "Whispers have a habit of carrying both truth and lies."
"True," she agreed, her voice softening. "But these whispers had weight. There are movements within the Academy, subtle but coordinated. Not all of them are against you, Daniel. Some… may even wish to see you succeed." Her gaze held his for a moment longer than politeness required, a faint smile touching her lips. "But even allies can have their own price."
He set his cup down, his expression unreadable. "And yours?"
Her smile deepened just enough to make it ambiguous. "Mine… I will tell you in time. For now, just know that I came here last night to wait for you, because I don't like uncertainty. And I would rather be where I can see you, than wonder from afar."
The silence that followed was not awkward, rather, it was thick with unspoken questions and the faint tension of two people each holding more cards than they were willing to show. Outside, the bells of the Royal Academy began to toll, marking the start of the day. Inside, the small dormitory room felt like a pocket of quiet before whatever storm was coming.
Melgil closed the door to Daniel's dorm room behind her, the faint click of the latch sounding far louder to her ears than it should have. She walked the short hallway in measured steps, her face a calm mask for any who might happen to see her, but inside, her thoughts tumbled over one another in restless currents.
The warmth of the small breakfast lingered in her mind—not the food itself, but the image of him standing there, sleeves rolled just enough to reveal forearms marked with faint traces of training, moving with a quiet certainty. She had tried, in her own way, to reach him, not just with words, but with presence, with the silent language that passed between glances and half-smiles. Yet he had met her attempts with the same unshakable composure that made him infuriatingly difficult to read.
She knew he was not immune. She had caught the flicker in his gaze when she shifted just so, the barest tightening of his jaw when her voice softened. But he was holding himself apart, whether from caution or ignorance, she could not tell. That distance… it frustrated her more than she wanted to admit.
Slipping into her own room, Melgil leaned against the door for a heartbeat, closing her eyes. The truth was simple, she wanted more than just an alliance with him. She wanted to see him falter, to see him moved not by calculation or necessity, but by something real. An emotional response. Something that would prove he could look at her not as a piece on a board, but as a woman standing in front of him.
With a slow exhale, she straightened and crossed to her wardrobe, pulling free the neatly pressed Royal Academy uniform. The crisp fabric whispered against her skin as she dressed, the polished silver buttons catching the light. Outside, the Academy grounds were already stirring with students hurrying to their classes. She took up her satchel, pausing only to glance in the small mirror by her desk.
Her reflection smiled back not the warm smile she had shown Daniel over breakfast, but the sharper, more knowing one she wore when playing a longer game. Today's lessons would be in the classroom, yes… but her real study was of him. Daniel might think he was keeping the distance between them under control, but Melgil intended to close that space, inch by inch, until it was no longer there at all.
And when that happened, she promised herself, it would not be over a calculated maneuver or a political bargain. It would be real—or it would be nothing.
The late morning sun hung bright over the Academy courtyard, scattering gold across the cobblestones and the manicured hedges that lined the central path. Students bustled between lectures, the air alive with chatter, the shuffling of books, and the occasional burst of laughter. Daniel walked among them with measured steps, a satchel slung over his shoulder, his mind already drifting toward the upcoming combat session.
Matheo Roclus was not a man one arrived late for. The former Knight-Captain of the Order of the Silver Crest had a reputation for drilling discipline into his students with the same intensity he had once driven into soldiers. Rumor had it he could spot a sloppy stance from a hundred paces—and correct it with a single barked command.
Daniel's path was set and his focus steady… until Melgil appeared.
She stepped out from one of the side archways, her Academy uniform tailored just enough to complement her figure without straying from the strict dress code. Her long hair caught the sunlight, and she moved with a deliberate grace that made those in her path instinctively shift aside. She saw him instantly, and her smile—soft, almost private—was for him alone.
"Daniel," she greeted, her voice carrying over the courtyard's hum without being raised.
He inclined his head politely, intending to continue on, but Melgil closed the distance in a few confident strides, falling into step beside him as though it were the most natural thing in the world. "Heading to Roclus's class?" she asked, tilting her head slightly, a lock of hair slipping over her shoulder.
"Yes," Daniel replied evenly. "You?"
"I have a theory lecture in the east wing," she said, though her tone suggested the details of her schedule were far less important than the fact that she was here, walking beside him. Then, with calculated boldness, she reached out and brushed a nonexistent speck of dust from his collar—a small gesture, but intimate enough to turn a few passing heads.
Daniel caught the motion in the corner of his eye. Subtle, yet deliberate. He neither flinched nor leaned in, maintaining the same composed pace, but the murmur of nearby students told him the display had not gone unnoticed. Melgil's smile deepened just enough to confirm she was aware of it too.
"You really should be more careful," she said lightly. "People might start thinking you've let your guard down."
His answer was calm, almost amused. "And you would prefer I didn't?"
"I'd prefer," she said, eyes forward now, "that you choose the right person to let it down for."
The statement hung between them as they neared the edge of the courtyard. Ahead, the stone archway leading to the combat grounds came into view, and beyond it, the tall, broad-shouldered figure of Matheo Roclus stood with arms folded, surveying the incoming students like a general preparing for inspection.
Daniel slowed his step just enough to put the conversation to rest without answering her directly. "You'll be late for your lecture," he said.
Melgil's lips curved in that same knowing way as she stepped aside. "Then I suppose I'll see you later, Daniel."
Her departure was as graceful as her arrival, but Daniel could still feel the weight of watching eyes and the faint echo of her touch on his collar. He exhaled once, quietly, before passing under the archway toward Matheo Roclus and the far less subtle trials awaiting him there.
As Daniel walked on toward the combat grounds, the ripple Melgil had caused in the courtyard lingered behind him. Her gesture, simple as it might have seemed, had not escaped the notice of dozens of pairs of eyes.
Students crossing the central path slowed their pace, whispers threading through the air like trailing smoke. Some exchanged knowing glances; others pretended to ignore it while secretly storing the image away for later gossip. Melgil's change in demeanor over the past weeks had not gone unnoticed, she was speaking more openly, smiling more readily, and carrying herself with a deliberate femininity that contrasted with her earlier, distant composure.
Many were quick to draw their own conclusions. The most common assumption was that Melgil's closeness to Daniel was born of shared circumstances: both had entered the Academy at the same time, both seemingly outsiders who had nonetheless found footing with surprising speed. In the students' minds, it was only natural that such a connection would form.
Others added a sharper edge to the speculation. They recalled that the Rothchester clan, Duchess Elleena Laeanna Rothchester's name still heavy in the halls, had been rumored to play a role in restoring Melgil's standing. If Daniel truly was the duchess's newly resurfaced son, as the more informed whispers claimed, then Melgil's presence at his side could be as much political as personal. A calculated alliance.
And yet… those who had watched her closely could not deny the undercurrent of something more personal in her actions. The way her gaze lingered on him when she thought no one was watching. The subtle confidence in her movements when she approached him. The quiet, almost teasing exchange in the courtyard that morning. These details didn't fit neatly into the framework of a political arrangement, they hinted at something warmer, more impulsive, and far less rehearsed.
By the time Melgil turned toward the east wing for her lecture, the courtyard was abuzz with quiet discussion. Daniel, however, had already moved on, the murmurs fading behind him as he approached the archway to the combat grounds. Whether he had noticed the silent storm forming in his wake or chose to ignore it was a question only he could answer.
The combat grounds were already alive with the metallic ring of training weapons and the barked orders of instructors. Daniel stepped through the archway just as Melgil entered from the opposite side, the morning sun catching in her hair and drawing more than a few appreciative glances from nearby students.
Among them were three male cadets, sons of minor nobles who had been circling Melgil in conversation since the previous few days after their return, ignoring every about who she was, as they only see her beauty to be conquered.
Today, they seemed bolder, their words carrying a confident edge as they blocked her path just short of the sparring rings. Their postures spoke volumes: easy smiles masking the competitive tension in their shoulders, and the faintest trace of rivalry in the way they angled themselves toward her.
Melgil, graceful but unyielding, greeted them politely. But Daniel could see the way their eyes lingered on her, not just with interest, but with the kind of possessive curiosity that set his blood running hot. A quiet, unfamiliar coil of jealousy twisted in his chest, tightening with each passing second.
He didn't hesitate. Crossing the space between them in a few purposeful strides, Daniel came to stand beside Melgil. His presence alone shifted the air, his shadow cutting across the three men like a drawn blade. The conversation faltered, and one of the cadets—a lean, sharp-eyed type—arched an eyebrow in silent challenge.
Daniel's expression didn't waver. "She's with me," he said flatly, his voice low but carrying enough weight to slice through the ambient noise of the training yard.
Before the three could muster a reply, Daniel stepped past them toward the practice dummies, motioning for Melgil to follow. But as the cadets made a half-hearted move to block her again, Daniel pivoted, quick, precise, and unmistakably threatening.
He caught the nearest one's wrist in a grip like iron, forcing the young man to his knees with casual, controlled force. The other two stiffened, but Daniel's gaze alone kept them frozen in place.
"Do you want to test this further?" Daniel asked, his voice still maddeningly calm.
The cadet shook his head quickly, face flushing red as Daniel released him. Without another word, Daniel turned back to Melgil and, in full view of the entire combat yard, took her hand in his. The simple contact, firm, deliberate—was more than a declaration. It was a warning to anyone who might have thought her unclaimed.
Melgil's cheeks warmed, but her eyes glimmered with an emotion far deeper than embarrassment. She didn't pull away. If anything, her fingers curled slightly tighter around his as they walked past the stunned cadets. She could feel his quiet protectiveness, and the fact that he had acted openly, without hesitation, sent a ripple of something fierce and unexpected through her chest.
Around them, murmurs rose again, sharper now, some laced with admiration, others with resentment. But none dared to step forward.
Daniel only loosened his grip when they reached the sparring ring, glancing down at her once before stepping away to prepare for training. Melgil, however, remained rooted in place for a moment longer, letting the warmth in her hand remind her of what had just happened.