A few days had passed.
Imeena wasn't dead yet.
Which, all things considered, was impressive given that Kaelith was the living embodiment of a chaotic death wish wrapped in a royal title and absolutely no sense of self-preservation.
In those days, Imeena had witnessed:
– Kaelith leap off a second-story balcony into a training arena "just to beat traffic."
– Kaelith argue with a guard captain about the ethics of using fire as a magical distraction spell.
– Kaelith duel a visiting diplomat's son after he made a comment about her horns—while wearing slippers and a silk robe.
– Kaelith try to charm a sentient door that was clearly cursed and probably carnivorous.
And every single time, Imeena had shown up. Silent, glaring, cold as ash. Sometimes she intervened and there was even more than that but sometimes she let Kaelith dig her own grave. But she always watched.
Because she had to.
Because Queen Serisa had said—with alarming serenity—that if anything happened to Kaelith, Imeena would spend the rest of her short, smoldering life chained to a throne made of burning regret and diplomatic paperwork.
And honestly, Serisa would do it.
So here she was.
In Kaelith's room.
Again.
It was late afternoon, sunlight slanting through the tall windows and painting the walls in gold and soft red. The curtains were half-tied, flapping in the breeze like bored nobles at a party.
The scent of roses and ink drifted in the air—Elysia's touch, probably. There were books scattered on every surface, a half-finished sword polish kit on the floor, and a tower of snacks on the side table that defied both physics and good judgment.
Kaelith stood at the center of it all, barefoot on the carpet, holding up a cerulean crystal hairbrush like it was a blade of destiny.
"This one," she said proudly, "was enchanted by an elder witch to detangle without pulling. It's stronger than half the guards outside."
Imeena stared at it.
"Impressive," she deadpanned. "Truly a relic of war."
Kaelith ignored the sarcasm and spun on her heel to her desk.
"Also brought three field journals, two fountain pens, five brooches with emergency teleport triggers, and"—she paused dramatically—"the official Celestian Advanced Magic Student Guide, first edition, annotated in my own handwriting."
Imeena's expression didn't move. "Riveting."
Kaelith opened a drawer and pulled out a shimmering orb. "This is a light projector that maps constellations in real-time. Custom-built. Took three weeks and a bribed technician."
"You bribed someone to make a nightlight."
Kaelith turned, mock-offended. "It's educational."
Imeena folded her arms. "So is learning to survive without luxury."
"You say that like you've ever tried silk pillows."
"I say that like I've tried bleeding to death in a trench."
Kaelith grinned. "Sounds like poor planning."
Imeena didn't sigh, but it was a close thing. Every minute with Kaelith was like juggling live spell runes and trying not to die with style.
Sometimes she wondered what exactly she was doing here.
She wasn't a glorified chaperone. She wasn't built for politics, niceties, or playing watchdog to someone who apparently viewed every danger as a flirtation challenge.
She belonged on the battlefield. In shadow. Cutting down things that bled magic and screamed when they burned.
She didn't belong in this sun-warmed room full of star maps and laughter.
And yet…
"If you let anything happen to her," Serisa had whispered, smiling with all her teeth, "I'll personally turn you into a decorative gargoyle over the east tower. I'll enchant your eyes so you have to watch the royal kitchens every day. You'll smell every cake. See every meal. But never. Ever. Eat."
That threat haunted her dreams.
So here she was.
Still breathing.
Still suffering.
Kaelith suddenly spun back toward her, a burst of excitement lighting up her features like the sky before a magical storm.
"I'm so ready for school tomorrow," she said.
"I've been waiting for this for years. Do you know how long I've had to pretend to be interested in war briefings and trade reports? I miss having real arguments about spell theory. I miss being yelled at by professors. I miss cafeteria food that threatens your dignity."
Imeena blinked. "You… miss that?"
Kaelith beamed. "It's the chaos, Cromwell. The petty drama. The quiet rivalry. The occasional enchanted hallway duel. It's real."
"I think you were dropped on your head as a child."
"Hey!"
Kaelith crossed the room and opened her armoire, digging through a mess of silk and leather until she pulled out something wrapped in a protective rune-cloth. She peeled it back like she was unveiling treasure.
"My uniform."
She held it up proudly.
It was fitted, ceremonial yet sleek—Celestian navy and silver, with embroidered runes at the sleeves, enchanted thread along the collar.
The jacket flared just above the hip, paired with formal trousers and high boots. It looked sharp. Regal. Completely impractical for combat.
"Thoughts?" Kaelith asked, spinning the jacket once.
Imeena didn't even blink. "I don't care."
Kaelith's nose wrinkled. "Not even a little?"
"I'm not here to rate your fashion."
"Well you're missing out," Kaelith said, hanging the uniform carefully on a crystal hook. "I look dangerously good in structured collars."
"I bet."
Kaelith turned toward her again, tilting her head. "You're really not going to loosen up, are you?"
Imeena shrugged. "You're not that interesting."
Kaelith grinned, stepping closer. "Oh, I will be."
"I look forward to ignoring it."
Kaelith tapped her finger to her chin, as if she'd just remembered something—though from the gleam in her eye, Imeena knew it was planned.
"Oh! Right. Almost forgot."
She leaned in, voice smooth. "You're going to be a student too."
Silence.
Imeena stared at her. "What."
Kaelith smiled sweetly. "Queen Serisa enrolled you."
Imeena's face didn't move. But her heart definitely stopped for half a second.
"No."
"Yes."
"She wouldn't."
"She did. You've been added to the roster as a special student. Official cover. You even have a uniform. It's in your closet. Want to try it on?"
Imeena looked toward the balcony. "I could jump from here."
"Wouldn't recommend it. The bushes are enchanted to scream."
"You're lying."
Kaelith leaned closer. "Try me."