Chapter 102: _ A Not So Little Scandal

Corvus d’Vael [Third-year Dragon Initiate]

The morning sun had barely crested the spires of the Dragon Wing when the plaza began transforming into a circus. With regular classes canceled, senior initiates were dragging wooden weapon racks into the courtyard, preparing for the exhibition drills and inter-academy sports designed to keep hundreds of restless students occupied while the faculty plotted political murder inside the Grand Council Hall.

High above the bustling plaza, perched in the shadowed archway of a third-story balcony, Corvus d’Vael shifted his weight, his fingers nervously twirling a long silver arrow.

Corvus was a third-year Dragon initiate, though he possessed none of the flame-belching arrogance of his high-born peers. His family owned the legendary Cindery Ironworks in Cindervale—wealthy enough to line their pockets with gold and pay Last Bastion’s exorbitant tuition, but completely devoid of a sovereign title or crest.

In a place where bloodlines were measured in royal dynasties, Corvus was painfully ordinary.

Except for his mark.

Corvus possessed a rare ability called the Eros Mark. With a single shot of his translucent silver arrow, he could weave a temporary, intoxicating delusion of wild and uncontrollable desire between two people.

And he had given his heart, his mark, and his soul to Princess Vaela Drakaryn.

Vaela was the stepdaughter of the Dragon King, a royal princess whose beauty was as sharp and cold as shattered diamond. She was also Corvus’s fated mate.

The universe, in its twisted humor, had bound Corvus to a girl who viewed him as nothing more than a convenient, dirty secret. For over a year, they had met either in one of the Dragon royals’ secret backrooms or some secret spot.

Vaela used him for pleasure to tame her biological need for him, taking what she wanted from his body before slapping his hand away, strictly warning him that if a single soul ever found out about them, she would have her stepbrother cut his tongue out.

"Your father sells iron, Corvus," she had reminded him again last night as she straightened her blue dress in the dark room. "My mother is the Dragon Queen. I am a princess. No amount of Cindervale gold makes you fit to claim me, so do not mistake my boredom for affection."

It hurt. It ripped his chest open every single time she said it. But Corvus didn’t care. He was so desperately, pathetically in love with her that he welcomed the crumbs she threw him. If carrying out her twisted errands meant she still needed him, he would burn the whole world down for her.

And today, Vaela wanted the markless commoner destroyed.

Corvus had seen it coming the moment Elira No-One had danced with the princes at the ball. Vaela was obsessively, terrifyingly protective of her stepbrother, Prince Remus. She couldn’t stomach the thought of any girl breathing his air, let alone a dragonless trench rat who had somehow captured the attention of five royal heirs.

Vaela’s plan for Elira was a calculated ruin.

She had instructed Corvus to track Elira to a quiet, leisure part of the academy grounds. Corvus had bribed a first-year common-born boy... a scrawny, desperate kid from Cindervale whom Corvus knew from his hometown—giving him twenty silver coins to engage Elira in conversation, lure her into a secluded alcove, and hold her still.

From there, Corvus would shoot his Cupid arrow, driving the boy and Elira into a feral, delusional lust.

To complete the public execution, Vaela had strategically erected a huge enchanted scrying mirror right in the center of the Great Quadrangle. She had publicly claimed it was a "sovereign tribute display" to honor the senior initiates returning from their missions tomorrow.

In reality, Corvus’s smaller personal scrying glass was linked straight to it. The entire student body, gathered for the sports exhibition, would watch the markless commoner’s downfall in broad, high-definition daylight.

"Is he still walking with her?" a nervous voice whispered behind Corvus.

Garth, the bribed first-year boy, was sweating profusely, clutching his small pouch of silver coins like a lifeline.

"Shut up and keep down," Corvus hissed, peering over the stone balustrade. "They’re entering the covered cloister near the fountain."

Through the archways below, Corvus watched Elira No-One walking beside a tall figure draped in a high-collared royal cloak.

Corvus frowned, leaning forward. He had been waiting for the prince to drop her off and leave so Garth could make his move. But the prince didn’t leave.

Instead, as the pair reached the deeply shadowed, ivy-draped alcove at the end of the cloister, which was a secluded, private archway hidden from the main courtyard; the prince suddenly spun Elira around, pinning her back against the wall.

Garth gasped. "Uh... Corvus? He’s not leaving. Should I still go down there?"

"No, stay back!" Corvus whispered furiously, his heart beating faster as he adjusted his scrying glass.

Down in the shadows, the prince reached up, ripping his hood back to reveal a face of striking, breathtaking royal nobility.

Before Elira could utter a single word of protest, the prince leaned down and smashed his lips against hers in an insatiable kiss.

Corvus froze, his jaw dropping in shock.

He’s... he’s kissing her?!

Elira didn’t push him away. Her hands flew up and her fingers tangled frantically into his hair as she kissed him back with equal ferocity.

Corvus couldn’t help the revengeful rage surging through his chest.

He hated the princes. Every single one of them. He hated Prince Remus; he hated Prince Ivar; he hated Prince Raice, and he hated Prince Ajax. They walked around Last Bastion like untouchable gods, strutting in their velvet robes, acting as if the realm belonged to them, stealing the love, attention, and mates of everyone below them while men like Corvus were forced into the dirt.

Vaela wanted Elira humiliated. She wanted the markless girl exposed to the entire school.

Why settle for a fake common-born setup when the real scandal was unfolding right in front of his eyes?

"Garth," Corvus growled with satisfaction as he shoved the scrying glass directly onto the stone ledge. "Take your silver and get the hell out of here. I don’t need you anymore."

Garth didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled backward into the shadows and sprinted down the hallway.

Corvus took a deep breath, hands a little shaky as he channeled his dragon magic into the scrying glass. A faint, silver light flared across the crystal lens, locking its magical focus directly onto the shadowed alcove below.

Deep in the heart of the Great Quadrangle, the big enchanted mirror Vaela had set up—surrounded by hundreds of eating, gossiping, and laughing initiates waiting for the sports assembly—suddenly chimed loudly, flaring with a blinding burst of golden light.

Conversations died across the courtyard. Hundreds of heads turned toward the gigantic display.

Down in the covered cloister, the scene had escalated into unbridled madness.

The royal prince had completely lost control. His hands gripped Elira’s waist, lifting her off her feet as he pressed her harder against the wall. Her blue tunic was torn open at the collar, her skin flushed. Garth could hear her gasps echoing softly through the quiet archway as the prince dragged his lips down her neck, leaving a trail of fiery bites along her collarbone.

"Oh, gods..." Corvus whispered, adjusting the scrying glass to ensure every single angle was crystal clear, capturing the intensity of the act.

The crowd in the main courtyard erupted into a deafening uproar.

"IS THAT... IS THAT THE MARKLESS GIRL?!" someone shrieked from the front row.

"LOOK AT THE SCREEN!"

"BY THE HELL LORDS, SHE’S HAVING SEX WITH A MAN IN THE CLOISTER!"