Chapter 99

Chapter 99: Chapter 99

Corvin descended from the royal box with the first-place ribbon pinned to his chest and the gold medal gleaming around his neck. The applause still echoed through the arena, and he could feel the weight of a thousand eyes on him as he made his way back toward the student section. His father’s words still rang in his ears—"Well done"—and though he would never admit it aloud, those two words meant more to him than the medal itself.

He had barely reached the Shadowmoon section when a blur of silver hair launched itself at him.

"Corvin! You won! You actually won!" Nyra threw her arms around his neck, her face bright with joy. "I knew you could do it! I knew it!"

For a moment, Corvin froze. Public displays of affection were not his style. He was the Serpent—cool, calculating, always in control. But Nyra’s arms were warm around his neck, and her happiness was infectious, and before he could stop himself, he was hugging her back.

"Of course I won," he said, his voice dry but his eyes warm. "I told you. I don’t need luck. I have skill."

"Modest as always."

"Modesty is for people who have something to be modest about."

She pulled back and grinned at him. "You were brilliant up there. The way you handled the lunar essence—the color changes—even your father was impressed. And he’s never impressed."

"My father has been impressed exactly twice in his life. Once when my mother won the Northern Alchemy Championship. And once today." Corvin’s lips curved into something that was almost a smile. "I consider that a victory."

"As you should." She squeezed his hands. "I’m so proud of you."

"Thank you, Nyra." His voice was quieter now, meant only for her. "Your voice was the first one I heard. When I was at the table. You were the loudest."

"Someone had to be. Finn was too busy stuffing his face with those pastries they were selling."

"I resent that!" Finn called from three rows back. "I was cheering between bites!"

In the royal box, Soren watched the embrace with an expression of carefully controlled neutrality. Nyra’s arms around Corvin’s neck. Corvin’s hands on her back. The way she smiled at him, bright and unguarded. The way he looked at her like she was the only person in the arena.

She’s our mate, Kael growled. Not his.

I know.

Then why are we sitting here while he touches her?

Selene’s hand slid into his, her fingers interlocking with his with practiced familiarity. Her amber eyes were bright with satisfaction as she leaned close.

"You have your betrothed by your side, darling," she murmured, her voice honey-sweet. "What more could you want from a prince?"

Soren didn’t answer. He unlocked their hands with deliberate care and rose from his seat. "The combat exhibition begins soon. I need to prepare."

"Soren—"

"I’ll see you later."

He bowed briefly to his father, exchanged a nod with his mother, and strode out of the royal box without looking back. Selene watched him go, her expression flickering with something cold before she smoothed it back into a serene smile.

The corridors beneath the arena were quiet compared to the roaring crowd above. Soren moved through them with purpose, his strides long and determined. He had seen Nyra leave the student section a few moments after Corvin’s ceremony ended, heading toward the staging area. If he was quick, he could catch her before the combat preparations began.

He found her near the east corridor, walking alone toward the competitor’s entrance.

In one fluid motion, he grabbed her arm and pulled her into an empty classroom, pressing her back against the wall. His hand clamped over her mouth before she could scream.

"Shh. It’s me."

Nyra’s silver eyes widened, then narrowed with a mixture of relief and irritation. Soren removed his hand, and she immediately shoved his chest.

"Soren! What the hell are you doing? Aren’t you supposed to be preparing for the exhibitions?"

"I should go and prepare for the exhibitions," he said, his voice low and rough, "when I haven’t seen my girlfriend since yesterday night, and the one time I am seeing her, she’s cheering and hugging some other guy?"

Nyra stared at him. "What? What do you mean by that?"

"I meant anything you think it is."

"Come on, don’t give me that, Soren." She crossed her arms, her eyes flashing. "I thought we decided to go our separate ways until the showcase finishes, then come back. Since you gave me that impression while parading your so-called betrothed around, smiling and playing the perfect couple."

"I wasn’t parading Selene. It’s—"

"Duty. I know." She cut him off, rolling her eyes. "As usual. Always duty and responsibilities."

"My love." His voice softened. He reached out and cupped her jaw, gently turning her face toward him. His dark eyes were pleading. "Look at me. I’m sorry."

Nyra shrugged his hands away and looked off to the side, frowning deeply at him, clearly displeased.

"Nyra. I’m so sorry. I know it’s hard for you to watch me and Selene. And it’s also selfish for me to ask you to overlook it. But can you please be a bit more patient? Everything will soon return back to normal after the showcase."

"Will it, Soren?" She turned back to him, her voice cracking. "Answer me. Will it? I highly doubt it will, because I have been having this bad feeling that something will go wrong one way or the other before this showcase ends. Am I the only one feeling it?"

The fear in her eyes made his chest ache.

"Nyra. Nothing will happen. I promise." He touched her cheeks, cradling her face in his hands, his thumbs stroking gently across her cheekbones. "I will protect you from anything that might happen or want to happen. I promise you. All I need is for you to be patient."

She leaned into his touch despite herself, her eyes fluttering closed for just a moment. He pressed a kiss to her neck, soft and warm, and pulled her closer with his other hand.

"Mhm... Soren, we don’t have time." Her voice was breathless. "We can’t do this. People are waiting for us."

"Let them wait." He kissed the hollow of her throat. "I haven’t kissed my girlfriend all day."

He claimed her lips.

The kiss was deep and desperate, weeks of stolen glances and forced distance pouring out in the press of his mouth against hers. His hand slid down her body, past the waistband of her trousers, beneath the fabric of her undergarments. His fingers found her bare and warm and already responding to his touch.

"Fuck... Soren..." Nyra broke the kiss, her head falling back against the wall as a moan escaped her lips. She gripped his shoulders, pulling him closer, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

He rubbed her in slow, deliberate circles, his dark eyes fixed on her face, watching every flicker of pleasure that crossed her features. "I’ve got you," he murmured. "Let go for me."

She kissed him again, hard and desperate, trying to muffle her sounds against his mouth. But when his fingers moved faster, she broke away with a gasp. "Soren... fuck... it’s getting... faster... I think I’m about to—"

She shattered on his fingers, her body arching against his, her moans swallowed by his mouth as he kissed her through it. When she finally stilled, breathing hard, he withdrew his hand and brought his glistening fingers to his lips, licking them clean with deliberate slowness.

Then he kissed her again, letting her taste herself on his tongue. She smiled against his mouth.

He helped her adjust her trousers, smoothing the fabric back into place with gentle hands. Then he cupped her face one more time and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her lips.

"I love you," he whispered. "Stay safe. Do what you know how to do best. And don’t forget my teachings. I know you’ve got this."

He kissed her forehead. "I love you," he said again, and then he was gone, slipping out of the classroom like a shadow.

Nyra leaned back against the wall, her chest still heaving, a smile curving her lips. After a moment, she straightened her tunic, smoothed her hair, and walked out to join the others.

The staging area was chaos.

Students from both academies milled about in their training gear, stretching and warming up. The combat exhibition would be divided into brackets—first-years, second-years, third-years, and the senior finalists.

Nyra slipped in quietly, but Sergeant Vorik spotted her immediately.

"Thorne! You’re late."

"My apologies, sir. I had to take a detour."

The grizzled combat master fixed her with a hard stare. "Detours are for people who have time to waste. You don’t. Get in line with the others."

"Yes, sir."

She hurried to join the assembled students, finding her place between Finn and Marek. Finn leaned over immediately.

"Where were you? You missed the end of Corvin’s ceremony. And you have a weird glow about you. A very suspicious glow."

"I don’t have a glow."

"You definitely have a glow. It’s the same glow you had when you sneaked back into the dorm after—"

"Finn," Marek said quietly. "Focus."

Sergeant Vorik raised his voice. "Listen up! I will now announce the brackets and your opponents. When your name is called, step forward. There will be no switching. No protests. You fight who you’re assigned to. Understood?"

"Yes, sir!"

He unrolled a parchment. "First-year bracket: Thorne Astrlyn of Shadowmoon versus Bren Marrow of Shadowmoon."

Nyra exhaled. A second-year from her own academy—tall, broad-shouldered, but not particularly skilled. She could do this.

"Finn Harlan of Shadowmoon versus Mira Voss of Silvermoon."

Finn’s eyes widened. "The healer girl? She’s going to destroy me."

"Marek Stone of Shadowmoon versus Petra Ironwood of Silvermoon."

Marek nodded slowly. Petra was formidable, but Marek had never backed down.

The names continued. Killian Drak was matched against a Silvermoon third-year. Nikolai Voss against a Shadowmoon student. Xavier Reid against a Silvermoon competitor. Draven Grimscar had withdrawn from the exhibition.

"Second-year bracket: Lena Halvik of Silvermoon versus Sable Voss of Silvermoon. Tomas Greer of Shadowmoon versus—"

The list went on.

"Senior finalist bracket," Vorik announced, and the area went quiet.

"Ragnar Blackfang of Shadowmoon versus Lyra Ashford of Silvermoon."

Ragnar cracked his knuckles.

"Soren Thornridge of Shadowmoon versus Kael Ironfang of Shadowmoon."

Soren, newly arrived, nodded once. His eyes swept across the students until they found Nyra. Their gazes met. He didn’t smile, but something softened in his expression.

Ragnar sidled up. "You’re late. Where were you?"

"Setting things right."

Ragnar grinned. "Is that what we’re calling it now?"

"Focus on your match, Ragnar."

The names continued. Orion Hale versus a Silvermoon senior. Silas Fogwalker versus another Shadowmoon student.

"The combat exhibition will proceed as follows. First-year matches first. Second-year matches second. Third-year matches third. Senior finalists last. Each match will consist of three rounds, or until one competitor yields or is unable to continue. Weapons are permitted but blunted. Lethal force is strictly prohibited."

Vorik paused.

"You have trained for this. Now go out there and show the realm what you’re made of. Dismissed!"

The competitors filed out in a single disciplined line. They emerged into the arena and the crowd erupted. The Shadowmoon students roared. The Silvermoon girls sang their anthem.

The competitors marched to the center, formed one line, and bowed in unison to the royal box. The King raised his hand. The Queen smiled. Freya was bouncing in her seat.

In the stands, Lord Varek caught Nyra’s eye and smiled a cold, predatory expression that made her skin crawl. She forced herself to smile back before turning away.

The competitors dispersed to their waiting areas. Nyra found her spot, her heart pounding.

Across the arena, Soren’s dark eyes found hers. He nodded once. You’ve got this.

She nodded back. I know.

Sergeant Vorik raised the starting pistol. The crowd held its breath.

The gun fired.