Chapter 15
We enter through two huge arched doors into what I imagine is normally the dining hall.
The towering domed ceilings are adorned with faerie chandeliers dancing above us, cloaking the room in a romantic ambiance.
Ornate floral centerpieces don all the tables, which are dressed in golden silk linens.
Each porcelain plate detailed with ornate golden patterns around the rim.
There’s a handsome Infernai bartender behind a golden counter along the wall with curved horns adorning his skull and slicked-back indigo hair.
Red sparks fly from his fingertips as he creates a show of mixing and pouring drinks.
Various Elarians of different shapes and sizes scurry about with innumerable appetizers held on baroque silver platters.
The decadence of it all sours my stomach, knowing this is all paid for by the high taxes on the hard-working civilian population. We’re supposed to be here training for war, not schmoozing like aristocrats.
Chet simmers against the wall with a group of males.
He glares at me, clenching his jaw, and I swear his head is going to burst into flames.
Even if he and Winx end up as a bloodline match, we aren’t supposed to catch feelings; it’s meant to be a simple exchange of genetic material.
Or several exchanges, depending on how long it takes.
It’s quite frowned upon to develop feelings for your match.
It makes things… too complicated. Once a fetus grows, it’s magically teleported out of your womb into an artificial one for continued incubation and protection.
A clever design of the Runic Engineers, so Knights are not taken out of battle during gestation.
When the Faeling is born, it’s raised by the Maidens, who dedicate their lives to their upbringing.
It’s up to the sires if they want to be a part of their life when they grow up.
Either way, they’re essentially property of Universitás, raised to be weapons.
This is our sworn contribution to the line of Ellian Knights; other students do not have to partake in Bloodline pairings if they do not wish to.
After Universitás, we can get vow runes and have our own offspring if we desire. Though that’s definitely not in the cards for me. I know better than to think of happy things like family and a place to call home.
I’m unsure whether Chet actually has feelings for Winx or if it’s a dominance thing, like a dog marking his territory. Based on how he’s puffing his chest up at me, I suspect the latter. He doesn’t threaten me. I shoot him a wink, and boy, does that make his skin turn beet red.
His friends turn around to see what’s caused his new coloration. I don’t care; it’s clear Winx doesn’t give a shit about him, either. She doesn’t even seem to know he exists tonight.
Suddenly, I’m surrounded by a group of Fae. That’s what I get for walking in with the life of the party. I don’t enjoy everyone’s focus on me, like I’m a prize to be shown off at the fair.
I’m rapidly introduced to a slurry of people, hardly hearing the first one’s name before the next. My head spins as I gulp down another glass of sparkling Moonwine. I’m clearly not meant for this type of socialite life.
As the introductions continue, I recognize one of the names from my Chivalry, Vex Boomer—the Chronosense.
She has a similar body frame to Winx—slender—and her leathery skin is a hue of vermillion scarlet.
Delicate features make up her face, with scattered freckles across her nose and temples and grey lips matching her deep, slate eyes.
Her face is framed with a head of tight black curls with braids on either side, showing off her rounded spiral horns that remind me of the mountain goats that traverse Eldoria.
Another face I recognize is the blonde with emerald eyes, her hair strung up in ringlet curls.
I believe Winx said her name is Tyranny Everclaw.
Next to her is a tall, slender Arabellian male with pink highlights in his long hair tied up into a bun.
He has a feminine beauty, with a melodramatic queerness to his voice.
I nudge Flint as he clearly eyes the other male like a schoolboy crush.
“How do you put up with this?” I whisper to him over my shoulder.
“Just nod your head, sa-smile, and find something more interesting to distract your mind,” he mutters back. It’s clear his quiet nature has left him on the sidelines, watching a world he’s not wholly a part of.
“By something distracting, do you mean something tall, pink-haired, and pretty?” I snicker as I swear his marble cheeks faintly blush a pale pink. “You should go talk to him,” I urge.
“I wouldn’t know what to sa-say to Rizz,” he whispers back.
“Yeah, I’m no good at small talk either.” I huff.
Winx looks at me, squeezing my hand. I can tell I missed some important cue by the feeling of anticipation that falls over me but isn’t my own.
“I was telling everyone about how you defeated that Ritherin and your close call with the Pykavow.” Everyone is looking at me, waiting on my words, like I’m some war hero to entertain them with my epic clashes sung in bardic melodramas.
I don’t enjoy having everyone’s eyes on me, yet Winx thrives under their scrutiny.
Tyranny looks unamused and sardonically asks, “Regale us of your secrets. How did you manage such feats?” Something’s hidden behind her question because she witnessed both fights, but I can’t put my finger on her intentions.
“You just find a weakness and kill it. Otherwise, it kills you.”
The pink-haired male, Rizz, gives a giddy clap. “Darling, you’re simply vicious. I’m positively gagging. I see why Winx has grown a shine to you.”
I nod, mustering a half smile, attempting Flint’s advice. Heat radiates off Winx’s skin, a rosy hue painting her cheeks as the neon violet flares in her eyes.
“She was trained by the legendary Sully Stonewall. Of course she’s vicious.
Anyone trained by a fighter like him would have to be.
It doesn’t make her special, just well-taught.
What I can’t figure out is why they only chose you for these monsters each time.
What have you done, other than fucking the Chancellor’s daughter, to merit his special challenge? ” Tyranny quips.
She has dealt her hand, and now her emotions are plain as day to read.
She’s jealous and clearly doesn’t find me worthy of anyone’s attention.
I find a twinge of pain in her words about Sully.
He was more than my fucking teacher, you twat.
The words coil like venom on my tongue, burning to be spat in her face, but she isn’t worth the effort.
I don’t even bother looking at her. I know ignoring her will fester far deeper under her skin. And it does.
Her eyes bore into the side of my face, begging for me to acknowledge what she clearly thought was a clever question. There’s a truth in it. Why did he challenge me and no one else this trial season? No one else faced the same experimenting, as Winx had put it.
“Tyranny, why do you have to be such an insufferable bitch?” Winx jabs.
I squeeze Winx’s hand in thanks for saying what I’m essentially thinking.
“Oh, honey, we all know she’s just mad S?las won’t give her the time of day.
She’s been practically throwing herself at him for months like a cat in heat.
” Rizz turns his head towards her, giving a mocking pat on the hand.
“Now, now, Tyranny. It’s unbecoming of a lady such as yourself. What would the queen say?”
Tyranny rebukes him with, “He’s just playing hard to get. It’s his thing. He can’t say no to me forever. He knows who my aunt is.”
“What are you going to do, Tyra? Have your auntie declare a royal decree to make him love you? Even the queen has her limits. No one wields the power of love, or have you let being spoiled rot your brain, too?” Rizz laughs, and the others chuckle in.
Tyranny is the queen’s niece? Ugh, one more person not to fucking piss off in this place. And she’s already clearly unhappy with me, likely noticing S?las staring at me today, just as Winx did. Not to mention my secret mission to take her not-so-interested loverboy off the map.
Speaking of which, I may want him dead, but I still detest the way she felt like she could force someone’s hand just because of who she’s related to. The thought of it leaves a bitter taste fermenting in my mouth.
I’m not sure which is worse: what Tyranny said, or how mean her friends were to her.
I’m no fan of Tyranny, but the whole scenario is off-putting.
They’re her friends, and yet they’re bullying her.
I guess this is how aristocrats treat one another.
Everything for them is a power play, just like Winx walking in with me on her hip.
Winx pulls me in closer, whispering, “Sorry about Tyranny. We only put up with her because of who she is, not because any of us like being around her.” I try to give her a reassuring smile, but bile curls my stomach.
“You’re one to talk, Rizz. We’re all spoiled rotten. That’s what makes us so much fun!” Vex Boomer snarks, and they all laugh with a maniacal delight.
A suffocating wave crashes over me; this socialite scenario is too much. I enjoy the raw lust I share with Winx in private, but that’s all it is. What we share isn’t meant for the test of her society. I have no intentions of being in a relationship of any sort.
The obligations of being a part of Winx’s world start to outweigh my craving for a fun distraction.
She’s intoxicating, but being around the aristocratic society is far too sobering.
Companionship beyond the battlefield only serves to make us weak.
I’m not here to lose myself to the vice of lust. I’m here for me.
I’m here to be all that it takes to become an Ellian Knight.
Holding on to the one thing that seems to be gluing my sanity together.