Chapter 21 Wolventon
A week later, victory was finally mine. At last, I’d won in the Hall of Mirrors.
My first real triumph since arriving at Elarion.
This wasn’t some grand duel; it was just a match against another first-year.
Still, it meant something. It meant the bruises from Shakari’s training, the endless drills with the twins, the frustration and shame I’d swallowed.
Most of all, it meant progress, hard-earned and mine alone.
I wasn’t about to give Lorik the satisfaction of credit.
Yes, he’d been the one to teach me how to channel rage into fire, and fear into strength, in that brutal session last week.
But acknowledging that would mean lowering my pride and I wasn’t about to hand him that victory, too.
Not when he still looked at me and saw nothing beyond my cursed bloodline.
Tonight, at least, I didn’t have to measure myself by what I’d lost. Tonight was mine.
It had been nearly three months since I last stepped beyond the academy walls. My mother would be furious if she knew I was leaving but for once, I didn’t care. I wanted to celebrate this win, to feel alive again. To look and feel extraordinary. Not for anyone else. For me.
I pulled out the short white dress I’d hidden at the back of my closet, the one I swore I’d never wear here.
The fabric was soft and dangerous. It clung to my waist, then flared gently around my thighs, the hem brushing just above my knees.
When I moved, it caught the faint shimmer of candlelight, turning simple white into molten silver.
My reflection in the mirror belonged to someone I hardly recognized.
My skin glowed from training below the sun in the terrace, sun-kissed, faint freckles scattered across my shoulders.
I traced black along my lashes, sharpening my eyes into something bold, something that could cut or charm.
My lips were flushed from victory’s heat.
The smile felt both foreign and entirely mine.
I unfastened my braids and let my long and thick hair fall free.
It spilled down my back in loose waves. Heavier and softer than I remembered, it brushed the curve of my spine.
For once, I didn’t look like the girl who stumbled through her first duel or hid behind her lineage.
I looked like fire dressed in white, danger disguised as grace.
When I stepped into the main hall of Solphire Tower, the air shifted.
Torches burned along redwood beams, throwing molten gold across the stone floor.
The twins, Rory and Tran, were already waiting.
Tran was in dark green, Rowan in midnight blue.
Shakari stood beside them in a fitted crimson dress, her golden braid gleaming in the firelight.
Moments later, Soehl arrived hand in hand with Jan.
Her lavender gown shimmered as her laughter rose to the vaulted ceiling, curls flying and silver earrings flashing like drops of light.
Rowan’s grin split wide when he saw me. “By the gods. Now this is how a princess looks.”
Tran gave me a slow, deliberate look, then nudged his brother. “Careful. You’ll have the whole tavern in flames.”
I smirked, fighting the heat rising on my cheeks. “Can we leave already? Before Thalen finds an excuse to tag along and ruin my first night out, trying to apologize. This is my celebration.”
Shakari laughed, tossing her braid back, the sound like bright steel striking stone. “So, tonight is your rebellion.”
“Isn’t my whole identity a rebellion?” I said, letting the perfume curl warm around me as I smiled, “But yes, tonight is mine. My celebration. The proof that I can fight…and that I finally won.”
We left the tower together, our footsteps echoing over stone until the sound gave way to gravel outside. A carriage with magical horses waited outside the entrance of Solstice and Dusk. We climbed in, skirts brushing, shoulders bumping, laughter spilling between us.
The ride wound through the forest. The road curled beneath towering sequoias, silent guardians looming above. Shadows folded around us, swallowing the moonlight. The world felt half-dream, half-secret.
Through a break in the trees, Wolventon appeared, small and hidden, nestled beneath the canopy as if the forest itself kept it safe. Lanterns hung from the branches. Their golden glow spilled over shingled rooftops and crooked cobblestones, painting the night in amber hues.
At the heart of it stood the tavern, its timber walls draped in ivy, the sound of laughter and music drifting through its open door. Outside, Sunheart and Moonveil students mingled together, robes unfastened, cheeks flushed, the divide between them blurring beneath the lantern light.
Inside, the air pulsed with life. Fiddles shrieked and drums thundered in a wild, breathless rhythm.
Boots struck the floor in sync with the music.
Bodies spun and collided in a blur of heat and color.
The space was thick with smoke and spice and the sweetness of too-strong potions.
Freedom hummed in every corner, bright, and reckless.
We pushed past a group of older students. Their shoulders brushed mine until we reached the long counter lined with glowing vials. Behind it, shelves glittered with glass. There were auroric potions of every color, swirling faintly as if stirred by invisible hands.
That was when I saw them. Emberkeep students huddled around a corner table, their gazes sharp as blades. Recognition flickered in their eyes. A ripple of whispers followed, soft but slicing. “Princess. Solenhart. What is she doing here?”
My pulse stuttered. Some students dipped their heads in quick, uncertain bows; others simply stared. Curiosity and gossip gleamed in their eyes.
I turned away, spine rigid, heart pounding as I pretended not to hear them.
If my mother could see me now in a tavern thick with smoke, sipping auroric potions beneath lanterns, I would already be dragged back to the castle by dawn.
Solenharts didn’t drink. They didn’t dance, or laugh too loud, or walk home with music clinging to their skin.
But tonight, I let go. Tonight, I was not her daughter, nor the heir shackled by a crown’s weight. I felt light, urgent, raw with longing to belong to myself if only for these few fiercely claimed hours.
Tonight, I was Dragontail.
We went straight to the bar to buy auroric potions.
Soehl leaned close, her silver earrings catching the lamplight. “You should try the exaltation potion,” she whispered.
“I might have grown up in the royal bubble of well behavior, but I have snuck up and drank potions before,” I said with an edge of pride.
Next to us, the twins were already flagging down the bartender, shouting for a round of exaltation potions. Their laughter carried over the music as the vials clinked onto the counter, the liquid inside glowing like captured starlight.
While they argued over who would drink first, my gaze drifted across the tavern and caught on someone watching me.
A tall, broad-shouldered Sunheart leaned against a post near the far wall, lanternlight gilding his hair.
His eyes were amber, warm but unfamiliar.
They were not the deep molten gold of Elarion’s strong magical heritage. He wasn’t a student.
I felt the heat rush to my cheeks before I could stop it. Shakari’s knowing smirk appeared almost instantly.
“You might want to enjoy it while you can,” she murmured, raising her glass.
Before I could reply, the stranger crossed the tavern in a few easy strides and stopped too close. “Hello, Princess,” he said, voice low. A hint of a smile curled his lips. He was inside my space, close enough that spice and smoke tangled between us and I didn’t mind.
“Well,” I said, my tone lighter than I felt, “a bit unfair, isn’t it? You know who I am, but I don’t know who you are.”
A terrible line, I thought immediately, my stomach flipping. What was that?
Behind me, my friends were already laughing, gulping down their auroric potions as the music shifted, drums deepening, strings rising. The crowd on the dance floor erupted, and I felt the beat thrum through my chest, wild and fast, daring me to move.
The Sunheart asked for two auroric potions, and while they were being brought to him, I just stared at him in silence.
“I am just a local of Wolventon,” he said mysteriously. “I must admit I was not expecting to see the Princess in such an old, moldy tavern. But I am glad I did.”
He was striking, high cheekbones, dark hair falling just enough to cast a shadow over his eyes, his light-tones skin shining against the golden light. For a heartbeat, I simply admired him, the curve of his jaw, the quiet confidence in the way he leaned closer.
The bartender returned, setting down two glasses filled with a deep red auroric potion that shimmered faintly, like liquid flame.
“Cheers,” I said, lifting mine.
We drank together. The glass was cool against my fingers, but the potion was warm and sweet as it slipped down my throat.
It tingled like sunlight spilling through water.
The change hit fast, heat and light bursting through my veins, colors sharpening until even the lanterns seemed to pulse with my heartbeat.
I had just set my glass down when the tavern door swung open, letting in a sharp gust of night air that made every lantern flicker.
Lorik Draventh stepped inside, followed by his usual entourage, Marla Yung, Rory Rey, and Ugo Zeyu. His dark shirt was rolled to his elbows, the fabric stretched over his forearms. The faint gleam of steel caught at his wrist. He didn’t have to demand attention; the room gave it to him.
He didn’t sit right away. His gaze drifted through the crowd, slow and deliberate, until it found me.