The final day of the Inter-Academy Festival was meant to be a joyous celebration—a day to unwind, revel, and build memories worth cherishing.
That, at least, was the idea.
Instead? I found myself entrenched in a scenario I wouldn't have wished upon my worst enemy.
Rachel's arms were wrapped around mine, her expression one of quiet triumph. Her sapphire eyes gleamed with possessiveness that somehow managed to be both endearing and terrifying. Cecilia stood nearby, arms crossed and glaring daggers at a rather pale and trembling Elara. Seraphina's ice-blue eyes were fixed on the newcomer with cold assessment, while Rose stood slightly apart, her auburn hair catching the festival lights as she observed the tense standoff with quiet concern in her warm brown eyes.
So here I was, flanked by three princesses, a daughter of a Marquis, and a daughter of an archduke, caught in the midst of what looked suspiciously like a war council.
