Chapter 17 Decree
The very next day, I formally requested that Professor Hog remove me from Lorik Draventh’s counselling group.
Not that Lorik had ever truly counseled anyone.
His idea of mentorship? Never letting students complain, telling them to fight harder, and just endure.
No real guidance, no technique, certainly never for me.
Still, I followed the proper channels, only to have my request swiftly and bluntly denied.
Apparently, in a legion built on war and hierarchy, such things weren’t negotiable. Rules were rules.
Lorik knew it, too. He didn’t say a word; he just let the denial linger like a quiet victory, one more way to keep me under his thumb.
In the weeks that followed my request being denied, I saw little of him. Lorik kept his distance, letting me train under Ugo alongside Shakari, rarely speaking. For now, that silence was its own kind of mercy.
Those weeks were split cleanly into two halves—success and struggle.
In Emberkeep, I thrived. History, legislation, and even coercion came naturally to me.
Somehow, I’d started to excel at it despite never having manifested any magical traces.
Professor Chen insisted I still attend interrogation training, which meant spending hours across from Thalen, an exercise that felt pointless and exhausting.
Without magic, those classes were a waste of time I didn’t have to spare.
By contrast, Dragontail was entirely different story.
I was painfully average there. Surviving, yes, but far from excelling.
I’d stopped being thrown to the ground every session and no longer limped to the Auroric healers afterward, which I counted as progress.
Most of that improvement was thanks to my relentless twin instructors and Shakari’s unwavering patience.
Getting beaten and humiliated in Dragontail was rough.
Emberkeep’s legislation class, however, was its own kind of torture.
Easily my least favorite, it was taught by Headmaster Marvek himself.
Decrees and court orders droned on like dull chants, each reminding me exactly why I never wanted to rule the island.
That Wednesday in Emberkeep, for once, I arrived on time and took my usual seat beside Jan. He was still my only real acquaintance in Emberkeep and likely would remain so. Everyone else treated me like a transaction, a potential alliance, not like a person.
The room buzzed with low chatter as students murmured in their neat rows, sunlight glinting off the marble walls. When Headmaster Marvek entered, he wore a smile I’d never seen before. Somehow, that unnerved me more than his usual severity.
“Today, we review recent Court proceedings—Decree 17-A on legion placement and royal exemption,” he snapped, wasting no time.
The word exemption landed like vinegar in oil. Suddenly, I wanted to pay attention.
“The decree passed this morning with unanimous approval,” he said, pacing with clipped steps. “Reactions?”
Camelia Aric, of course, raised her hand first. “Headmaster, it was expected, though I dare say a controversial one. The law is being interpreted differently from how it was intended when it was established three hundred years ago “during the region of Velvet King.” Graduation from Emberkeep has always implied a calling from the Siren herself to Emberkeep. Many royalists will not approve. They’ll see it as a disruption of balance.
The very reason the royal line was meant to remain intact. ”
The headmaster fired back, “Implied, not written. Laws change. Reading the law by old rules would cause chaos. Imagine a royal line without Sight or purity, useful to no one.”
Once again, I felt like the subject of discussion. I didn’t bother to explain myself or offer an opinion, this room wouldn’t care either way.
“So, you’re from the trusted court royal advisors. What do you tell the throne? How do you keep royalists calm and balance intact?” The headmaster asked.
Camelia didn’t hesitate. “I’d tell the Princess to at least pretend she wants the job.” A ripple of laughter moved through the room. I almost laughed, too. She wasn’t wrong.
The headmaster cut in, “That moment stayed out of the press, your mother ordered it, Miss Aric.” His eyes narrowed, authority crackling. “Now, next step. What does the Solenhart throne do to stabilize the bloodline?”
The headmaster’s gaze found me, sharp and deliberate, cutting through the low hum of the room like a blade.
“Marry an Emberkeep Sunheart,” another student shot out.
My breath caught.
“How soon?” the headmaster pressed.
“As soon as possible,” I muttered before I could stop myself.
My voice was barely audible, but the room was so silent that every word carried.
I didn’t even know why I said it—only that it was true, and that I should’ve seen it coming.
I’d always known I was betrothed. I just thought there would be time—years to escape it, or at least to choose love over duty.
But this meant the choice was already made.
This meant I could be marrying Thalen within months. How had I not seen this coming?
“Precisely,” the headmaster said, pacing again. “Announcing that the future queen will take an Emberkeep spouse, one with a traditional lineage to ensure the Sight and preserve the calling to the Emberkeep legion, would appease the royalists and stabilize the realm.”
The rest of the class passed in a blur of my own fury. I wished I could walk straight into the Hall of Mirrors and unleash every flame I had, just to silence the storm building inside me.
Back then, I didn’t understand how one decision could redraw the lines of an entire life. How a single moment could carve a before and an after so sharply that it changes the air you breathe.
When I faced the Siren at the Calling, hope flickered—small and absurd under her gaze. Wanting more than my path was foolish. But that rebellion became the embarrassment that reshaped everything.