The morning air was already thick with the sll of kicked-up dust and sweat. The academy training grounds were a chaotic symphony of cracking wooden practice blades and grunted spells. Students clustered in small groups, so sparring in the outer rings, others watching from the stone benches that lined the periter.
Lucian spotted Marcus imdiately.
He stood near the center ring with three other boys—all from wealthy families, equally wearing that sa smug expression that ca from never being told no. Marcus was demonstrating a sword technique, his movents sharp and practiced, clearly showing off for the handful of students watching.
"There," Seraphina said quietly beside Lucian. Her hand rested on her sword hilt. "Let’s end this."
"Not yet." Lucian kept his voice low. "We do this carefully. He needs to hang himself with his own words."
"Lucian—"
"Trust ."
She looked at him for a long mont. Then nodded once.
They walked forward together.
The shift in atmosphere was imdiate. Students noticed them approaching—noticed Seraphina Ashenblade walking purposefully toward Marcus Thornwell with the disgraced Valemont bastard right at her side.
Conversations died. Sparring matches paused.
Marcus finished his demonstration and turned, catching sight of them. His expression flickered — surprise, a second of rapid calculation, before settling into a mask of false confidence.
"Well, well." He lowered his practice sword, that familiar arrogant sneer spreading across his face. "Valemont. Co to apologize for your behavior? Or are you here to throw yourself at my rcy before the administration expels you?"
His friends laughed. A few students in the crowd shifted uncomfortably.
Lucian stopped a few paces away. Close enough to talk. Far enough to stay out of imdiate reach.
"Actually," Lucian said, his tone perfectly calm, almost friendly, "I ca to thank you."
Marcus blinked. "What?"
"For being so thorough." Lucian’s grey eyes stayed locked on Marcus’s face, watching every micro-expression. "Most people, when they want to destroy soone’s reputation, they make mistakes. Get sloppy. But you? You covered your tracks remarkably well."
The smugness in Marcus’s expression faltered. Just slightly.
"What are you plotting, valemont, I don’t know what you’re talking about."
"No?" Lucian tilted his head. "That’s strange. Because I just had a very interesting conversation with Elena Marsh."
Marcus’s jaw tightened.
There.
That was the tell. The montary tension. The flicker of sothing that looked dangerously close to panic before he wrestled it back under control.
"Who?" Marcus said, forcing a laugh. "I don’t even know who that is."
"Really?" Lucian’s voice remained mild. Curious. "First-year student. Scholarship recipient. The girl whose testimony was just used to accuse of assault."
"Oh, that." Marcus waved a dismissive hand. "Yeah, I heard about that. Unfortunate situation for you. But what does that have to do with ?"
"Nothing. Probably." Lucian shrugged. "I’m just curious why she specifically ntioned seeing you with the person who gave her the instructions."
The color drained from Marcus’s face.
Around them, more students were gathering now. Word was spreading fast—sothing was happening between Valemont and Thornwell. The crowd pressed closer, forming a loose circle around them.
"She’s lying," Marcus said, his voice rising slightly. "That girl is clearly unstable—"
"Is she?, Because she seed pretty clear about the details. Dark-haired boy. Expensive clothes. Hangs around with your group."
"Half the academy matches that description!"
"True." Lucian nodded agreeably. "But how many of them have a very public grudge against ? How many tried to pick a fight on day one? And which one of them looked ready to commit murder after I made him look like an absolute idiot in front of his own group?"
Marcus’s hands clenched around his practice sword. "You arrogant—"
"I’m just trying to understand," Lucian continued, cutting smoothly over him. "See, what confuses is the timing. This accusation ca right after I started asking questions about who might want to ruin my reputation. And the person who orchestrated it? They knew exactly how to threaten Elena. knew about her brother’s debts. knew she was vulnerable."
He took a single, deliberate step forward. His voice stayed perfectly level, carrying effortlessly through the dead-silent courtyard.
"That kind of information? That takes resources. Connections. Money. The exact kind of resources a wealthy noble’s son might have access to."
"This is ridiculous," Marcus snapped. "You’re making wild accusations with zero proof—"
"I haven’t accused you of anything. I’m just thinking out loud. Trying to piece together how soone could orchestrate such a thorough fra job. It’s actually quite impressive when you think about it."
Seraphina had remained silent throughout the exchange, standing slightly behind and to Lucian’s left. But now she shifted her stance, a subtle drop of her shoulder that drew every eye.
Her hand still rested on her sword. Her golden eyes were locked onto Marcus with a cold, predatory anticipation that made the air itself feel heavy.
She offered no verbal threats. Just the suffocating promise of violence. It was written in every line of her body: Try sothing. Please.
Marcus noticed. Of course he noticed.
"You—" He pointed his practice sword at Lucian, his composure cracking further. "You think you can just co here and—what? Intimidate with baseless theories and your attack dog?"
"Attack dog?" Seraphina’s voice was soft. Dangerous.
Lucian held up a hand slightly, stopping her.
"I’m not trying to intimidate anyone," he replied smoothly, gesturing to the crowd. "We’re just two classmates having a civil conversation in broad daylight. With plenty of witnesses around to make sure there are no... misunderstandings."
More students had gathered now. At least thirty people ford a loose ring around them.
And there, near the edge of the crowd, Lucian spotted familiar faces.
Aria stood with a group of other students, her expression troubled. She was watching him, not Marcus.
Elira leaned against a support pillar in the shadows, arms crossed, ice-blue eyes tracking every movent.
Even a few upperclassn had stopped their training to watch.
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