Chapter 114: _ The Public Claim

The banging against the oak doors turned out not to be a raid, but a petrified Wolf Wing maid clutching a brass key ring.

"Y-Your Highness!" she squeaked, dropping into a frantic curtsy as Ivar yanked the door open. "Forgive the disturbance! Head Housekeeper requested I inform you that Miss Elira’s clothing trunks have been successfully delivered to the Dragon Academy! West Annex dormitory, Room 3B!"

Ivar let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his red hair. "Right. Thank you. Dismissed."

He turned back to me, extending his hand with a confident, brilliant grin. "Ready to face the lions, petal?"

"Not even slightly," I muttered, but I placed my hand in his anyway.

Leaving Ivar’s private suite was like stepping into an imperial fortress constructed out of flexed muscle and silver fur. The Wolf Wing architecture was brutalist, imposing, and lined with pillars carved in the likeness of snarling direwolves. Red fluttered from the vaulted ceilings, and everywhere we walked, wolf guards dropped to one knee, banging their fists over their hearts as Ivar passed.

Their eyes, however, lingered on me. Or rather, on the vivid, freshly healed mate mark throbbing on my throat, framed by the expensive dress Ivar had forced me into.

When we reached the archway connecting the Wolf Wing to the central courtyard, I froze.

Up ahead, hundreds of students were milling about the stone pathways. The moment the iron gates swung open, a ripple went through the crowd. Heads snapped in our direction. Whispers erupted like a swarm of disturbed hornets.

I took half a step back. "Ivar... maybe I should use the servant tunnels."

Ivar stopped, turning to face me. He didn’t let go of my hand. "You don’t hide in tunnels anymore, Elira. I am right here with you."

I drew a long, shaky breath, straightened my spine, and stepped out beside him into the blinding sunlight.

The gossip was unhinged.

"Is that her?"

"The markless girl from the broadcast?!"

"Look at her neck! He actually marked a trench rat!"

"She was riding him in mid-air! In front of the whole Quadrangle!"

"Is she a whore or a witch?!"

The sneers were sharp, the glares were filled with envy. Noblewomen who had spent years trying to win the Wolf Prince’s favor looked ready to tear my throat out with their bare teeth. It was painfully obvious that if Ivar hadn’t been walking beside me these initiates wouldn’t just be whispering—they would have torn me to shreds.

As we crossed the stone bridge into the Dragon Academy, the atmosphere grew significantly worse. Here, I was one of their own—a Dragon initiate—and the sense of betrayal was palpable.

"Traitor!" a voice spat from the crowd.

Before I could even register the sound, a rotten piece of spoiled fruit came flying through the air, aimed directly at my face.

I flinched, closing my eyes, but the impact never came.

Ivar had stepped in front of me, catching the filthy object cleanly in his bare palm. Instantly, a blinding burst of frost exploded from his skin. The rotten fruit froze solid, shattering into harmless ice crystals that tinkled against the cobblestones.

Without missing a beat, Ivar’s eyes snapped toward the third-year Dragon initiate who had thrown it. A wave of sub-zero frost shot across the ground, crawling up the guy’s legs in seconds and freezing him solid from the waist down.

The initiate let out a terrified YELP as he found himself anchored to the pavement like an icy statue.

"Anyone else?" Ivar asked, looking around the courtyard.

Silence fell over the crowd.

Ivar turned back to me, squeezing my hand tightly. Then, in front of hundreds of gaping, shocked students, he reached up, gently tucked my hair behind my ear, and exposed the pulsing mark on my collarbone for the entire Dragon Academy to see.

"Listen to me carefully!" Ivar declared, his heterochromatic eyes flashing emerald as he swept his gaze across the crowd. "This woman is Elira No-One! She bears the royal mark of the Wolf Sovereign! She belongs to me, and I belong to her!"

Gasps rippled through the onlookers.

"She is no longer a peasant! She is no longer a trench rat! She is a future Queen of the Wolf Realm! Respect her as such—or answer directly to my blade!"

I stood there, completely rendered speechless. My chest felt hot, tight, and overwhelmed.

Never in my entire eighteen years of life had anyone stood up for me like this. Nobody had ever claimed me publicly or shielded me from the world’s cruelty. Not the guards at Stonewick, not my teachers, and certainly not Remus—who had made me a promise eight years ago in the mud, only to abandon me when the world grew cold.

Yet here was Ivar Wulfram, an arrogant, infuriating prince who had started out tracking me like prey, standing in the middle of a hostile courtyard, declaring to the entire realm that I was his equal. He hadn’t just stolen my body against that wall; he had completely, irrevocably stolen my heart.

"You bastard!" a furious voice shrieked from the crowd.

Before anyone could react, a plume of bright blue dragonfire whipped through the air, shooting directly toward Ivar’s chest!

Ivar didn’t even flinch. He raised his left hand and shimmering frost erupted to swallow the flames in a cloud of blinding steam.

Stepping out from the smoke was a tall, gorgeous senior Dragon girl. Her eyes burned with fiery fury and her hands were still dripping with residual blue flames.

"I-I loved you and you... You stole my power! You took my mana just a few days ago, promised me a place in your court, and now you dare to publicly claim this markless trash?!"

Ivar’s eyes darkened into something utterly demonic. "Ah... you. What’s your name again?" He took a menacing step forward. "You have three seconds to turn around before I make your fate far worse than death..."

"Ivar, stop!" I yelled, stepping firmly between him and the girl.

Ivar blinked, looking down at me in surprise. "Elira, she just threw dragonfire at us—"

"I don’t care!" I shot back, glaring at him. "You already admitted you used her for her mana! She has a right to be angry! We are not slaughtering people in the middle of the courtyard!"

Ivar opened his mouth to argue, but seeing the stubborn fire in my eyes, he let out a frustrated growl and snapped back his elongated fangs. "Fine. But if she looks at you funny again, I’m freezing her tongue."

He grabbed my hand again, leading me past the stunned, silent crowd toward the West Annex.

When we finally reached the corridor leading to Room 3B, I stopped near the door and turned to face him.

"You can leave now, Your Highness," I said softly, though deep down, every single instinct in my body screamed at him to stay.

Ivar leaned his shoulder against the stone wall with a pained, utterly dramatic scowl on his handsome face. "I don’t want to leave. What if another jealous noble girl pops out of the broom closet? What if you miss me?"

"I’m stepping inside my own dorm room, Ivar," I said, unable to suppress the affectionate laugh bubbling up in my chest.

"Still unsafe," he insisted. He stepped closer, cupping my face in his hands, and pulled me into a deep, dizzying kiss that left my knees feeling like liquid silver. "I’m going to miss you, petal."

"I’ll see you at Raice’s tribunal," I whispered against his lips, my cheeks burning as I felt his hands linger gently on my hips.

He gave me one last kiss before stepping back, crossing his arms over his chest like an immovable sentinel. "Go on inside. I’m not leaving this hallway until I hear the lock click."

First-year initiates in the corridor were peeking out of their doors, sneering and whispering, but the moment Ivar shot them a glare, their doors slammed shut instantly.

Smiling despite the madness of the day, I pushed open the door to Room 3B, stepping over the threshold into my dorm room.

The moment I closed the door and turned around, the air left my lungs.