Prince Adrien of Aurelis.
The Crown Prince. The actual heir to the throne. The walking embodiment of royal perfection and the reason half the girls here couldn't speak in full sentences.
Around us, a ripple of hushed murmurs spread like wildfire. Nobles leaned in, fanning themselves with curiosity and barely contained glee. Oh, look, the duke's daughter just fell into the arms of the future king. How deliciously scandalous!
Meanwhile, I was having a full-body meltdown.
Prince Adrien, for his part, looked as calm as a moonlit lake. His sharp brown eyes studied me with mild curiosity, and—because the universe is cruel—there was a hint of amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth. His black hair was perfectly swept back, not a strand out of place, and his deep crimson coat shimmered under the chandeliers like it had personally been embroidered by the inventors.
"Are you alright?" he asked, voice smooth and just a little too confident.
I yanked myself upright, nearly elbowing him in the process. The humiliation was a living thing now, curling around me like a second corset.
"Yes—yes, Your Highness," I said, trying not to wheeze. "My apologies, I—" I paused. I what? Trained for five minutes and thought I was Swan Lake? "I suppose I lost my footing."
He tilted his head like I was a mystery he wasn't sure how to solve. "Is that so? I would have assumed someone sabotaged your shoes. The fall was quite… theatrical."
My soul left my body.
Was the Crown Prince seriously teasing me?
I forced out a laugh that was only slightly more natural than a cough. "Well, I hope my enemies have more creativity than heel sabotage."
His lips twitched a second time. A smirk was fighting for freedom. "Indeed."
Before I could embarrass myself any further, Luna reappeared like a whirlwind of silk and panic, grabbing my arm with a grip that said 'you owe me for this rescue.
"Your Highness! How fortunate you were to be nearby to save my dearest friend! Such gallant timing."
I shot her a look. It said: 'Thank you. Also, I'm going to throttle you later.
Adrien turned to her, unreadable. "Lady Valenford. I see you're still as lively as ever."
"Someone has to keep things interesting, Your Highness."
Wow—who knew Luna was such a lifesaver when buttering up royal princes?
I'll consider going easy on her punishment later...
Adrien let out a quiet, princely hum. Then his gaze slid back to me. "If you're unharmed, then I'll take my leave. But do try to keep your balance next time, Lady Elisha."
And just like that, he turned and walked off...
I stood frozen, wondering if it was socially acceptable to crawl under the banquet table and never come out.
The second he was out of earshot, Luna squealed like she'd just won a duel. "Elisha! What just happened?! The prince caught you! This is like something out of those awful romance novels you find from a shady street vendor!"
"It was not—" I started to protest, then gave up and groaned into my hands. "Please. Don't remind me. Next thing you know, I'll be swooning and writing sonnets about it."
Luna sighed dramatically. "But think of the luck! You've caught the Crown Prince's attention—through sheer, glorious disaster!"
I didn't want to think about what kind of rumors were already brewing. Probably something like Lady Elisha fakes a fall to secure royal favor. Wonderful. Exactly the kind of notoriety I didn't need.
"Can we talk about literally anything else?" I begged.
"Fine, fine," Luna relented, dragging me toward the refreshment table with a conspiratorial grin. "But this is absolutely going in my journal."
Somehow, I made it through the rest of the evening without further public humiliation. I mingled, smiled, did the whole "politely poised" thing, even managed to talk trade routes with a minor baroness who had suspiciously large opinions for someone without a coastline.
And, honestly? It wasn't so bad. The nobles were still sharp-tongued snakes, but at least I was learning how to dance between the fangs. Maybe the royals weren't quite the cold, unfeeling tyrants the stories made them out to be.
Still, I wasn't that stupid. I could feel the lingering stares, the whispers that followed my every step like perfume.
Eventually, as the banquet wound down, Luna and I retreated to a quieter corner of the hall, sipping drinks and pretending we hadn't just hijacked the social event of the season.
I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding.
Just as I was beginning to relax—drink in hand, social disaster behind me, and Luna thankfully too full on gossip to talk—someone said my name.
"Elisha."
I turned and instantly recognized the voice. Alexander. Eldest brother. Heir to our house. Walking personification of stern disappointment.
He approached with his usual air of quiet command. Unlike Leonard, who could charm the socks off a statue, Alexander was all steel edges and clipped formality. The kind of man who made eye contact feel like an interrogation and silence feel like a lecture.
"What is it, my dear brother?" I asked, setting down my drink. Red liquid. Not wine, though. Just... suspiciously fancy juice. My previous self was old enough to drink. But I quickly came to the realization that I should lay off the alcohol for this body.
Alexander didn't smile. He never did. "Come with me."
"Of course," I said, because apparently I was done enjoying myself—or rather because big brother had the look that said: 'I will sell you off, if you don't obey.
Luna arched a brow at me but wisely stayed behind, probably storing this in her Drama Watchbook for later.
Once we were far enough from eavesdropping nobles—and hopefully any more princes—I turned to him with a curious, granted—a bit tired expression. "Alright. What is it?"
He folded his arms like he was about to inform me I'd been drafted into war.
"You'll be entering the Royal Academy soon."
I blinked. "...What?"
"The arrangements have been made. Father agreed. It's expected. You're nearly fifteen, and heirs of your rank are required to receive formal education at the Academy."
Ah. There it was. The sucker punch. Delivered with perfect timing and zero warning. I thought I was lucky being thrown into this world at such an age—But I guess I was just too optimistic...
The Royal Academy. As in that Academy. Where future rulers, generals, diplomats, and borderline-psychotic noble brats all trained under one roof. Combat, politics, etiquette, manipulation—all dressed up as 'curriculum.'
At least that's what I had learned from the time I spent with 'father.
And now I was going...
Alexander sighed and ran a hand through his neatly combed hair, ruining exactly one strand. Which for him was the equivalent of screaming into a pillow.
"So do your best to behave," he said. "And refrain from doing anything more… ridiculous."
I flushed. Oh, so we were referencing the whole 'falling into the prince's arms' thing. Great. That wasn't going to haunt me for life at all.
Still, the shock began to settle, replaced by a strange mix of dread and thrill. This was real. The Academy was no small thing. It was a challenge, opportunity, danger... possibly all at once.
"How long do I have?" I asked, already bracing myself.
"Five weeks."
Five. Weeks.
Where has this been for the last week? Why does no one tell me anything?!
Shit—focus. That wasn't preparation time at all. That was a damn entire countdown.
"I see," I murmured, keeping my voice steady—no dramatic gasping. No flailing. Just quiet acceptance of the fact that my entire life was about to change, and I was going to need to get smarter, and not get myself executed in the process, for speaking something I shouldn't.
Sigh.
Alexander gave me one final look—equal parts warning and expectation—then nodded and turned to leave.
I watched him go, then slowly picked up my glass again and drained it in one go.
Fancy juice or not, I was going to need something stronger very soon, if this kinda' shit kept happening.