The nervousness nearly made Luna ss up the following day in the protocol competitions.
It was the sa exam the as always, only this ti the tests were slightly different and performance was compared with everyone else’s. Demonstrating appropriate knowledge of noble etiquette, correct handling of formal conversations, navigation of complex social situations as always.
Luna normally dominated these things with her intense preparation. Had been trained from the cradle for exactly this kind of thing.
Born into a great house. Raised by tutors who accepted nothing less than perfection. Drilled in every nuance of noble behavior until it beca as automatic as breathing.
But her mind kept returning to the announcent board. To that na beside hers.
Ren Patinder - Luna Starweaver
The letters haunted her. Followed her into sleep and ambushed her during waking hours. Made concentration feel like wading through mud when it should have been effortless...
During the formal conversation section, she almost used the informal pronoun when she should have used the formal. A beginner’s mistake that would have cost significant points.
She saved herself by a millisecond, correcting before the words fully left her mouth.
The examiner hadn’t noticed. Too busy watching the rival student fumble through their responses to catch Luna’s near-miss. But she’d noticed. Felt the spike of adrenaline that ca from catching an error a heartbeat before disaster.
During the table etiquette demonstration, her hands trembled slightly while holding the practice cup. The shake was minimal. Barely visible. Most people wouldn’t have caught it even if they’d been looking directly at her.
Nobody else noticed, but she did. And she knew that if she’d been evaluated more closely, it could have cost her tenths of a point.
Tenths that might not seem significant until you were competing at the highest levels where tenths were the difference between first and fifth place.
When the results were announced, Luna obtained third place.
Ren had taken first, of course. Because apparently copying Larissa perfectly with his skill was that powerful.
It made sense when you thought about it. Larissa was a genius, protocol incarnate. Had been raised in the royal family where etiquette reached heights of complexity that made normal noble houses seem casual by comparison. Every interaction a masterclass in political navigation.
And Ren could just... copy that. Reproduce decades of training through observation and supernatural ability that let him mimic competence he hadn’t actually earned through years of practice.
It should have felt unfair... Was unfair. But complaining about Ren’s advantages had beco pointless years ago when everyone realized he’d just find new ways to surpass expectations regardless of obstacles.
Liora had taken second, her lifelong training finally surpassing a distracted Luna.
And Luna in third.
A sufficient place with her overall performance in other exams. Sufficient to maintain her position among the best. Sufficient that her rewards were still secured.
But Luna knew the deeper truth. She was only not fourth place because Larissa didn’t participate in protocol competitions.
Third place was good. Was respectable.
Most students would celebrate third place in a competition this competitive.
But it felt weak for her.
And Luna Starweaver never felt weak.
Until now.
She’d always been strong and competent. In control of herself even when everything else spiraled into chaos.
But one na on an announcent board had shattered that composure more effectively than any enemy or political sche.
And she hated it.
Hated the weakness. Hated that sothing as simple as forced proximity to soone she cared about could undermine years of training and discipline.
♢♢♢♢
Asking Jeannette, Cassia, and Seraphina for ’dancing’ advice had felt a bit awkward but their "slightly more adult" input hadn’t been as useless as Ren had expected.
They’d given him practical tips. The kind of wisdom that ca from years of formal events where dancing wasn’t just recreation but social necessity.
But now he had a theoretical exam. This week wouldn’t just be practice, but also one final exam in the mornings so he was on his way to the classroom.
And he wasn’t walking...
Ren ran.
It wasn’t the first ti he’d fled from a group of nobles determined to "discuss the future" with him, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. But at least this ti he noticed sothing different.
There were fewer.
Significantly fewer.
Where normally there would be two or three dozen girls pursuing him with terrifying determination, despite their protests that it was "just casual interest", now there were only... one. Maybe one and a half if he counted the ones who’d stopped to catch their breath three corridors back.
’Interesting,’ he thought while rounding another corner, using his superior stamina to maintain pace that would exhaust normal pursuers, ’the dance announcent really changed the dynamics like Jeannette said?’
Apparently, being publicly paired with Luna Starweaver sent a clear enough ssage for most noble girls to reconsider their... persistent attempts to capture his attention.
Most.
Not all.
The ones who remained were the truly stubborn. Or the truly desperate... Ren wasn’t sure which was worse.
He finally managed to lose them using several jumps. Now he used a light jump to blind them, followed by several less conspicuous shadow jumps that let him relocate without too obvious visual tracking.
He erged near his classroom with sufficient ti before class began, lungs not even burning a little and his stride steady from months of combat training that made running feel almost recreational by comparison.
He breathed in relief.
Too soon.
Because when he entered the classroom, he was imdiately surrounded.
"Ren!"
"Patinder, we need to talk about..."
"It’s about you and Luna dancing! I can only imagine... What kind of dance will you give as the best duet according to rankings so far?"
The questions overlapped each other, voices mixing into incomprehensible noise that made Ren imdiately regret entering.
He should have waited outside...
Should have known that a classroom full of teenagers wouldn’t let sothing this gossip-worthy pass without extensive interrogation.
But the group that managed to push their way to the front was one particularly... persistent.
Roran, with his smile that Ren had learned ant trouble. The kind of smile that preceded uncomfortable questions or unwanted advice delivered with aggressive enthusiasm.
Trent, practically vibrating with poorly disguised excitent. His energy threatening to explode into comntary Ren definitely didn’t want to hear.
And Jun, who at least had the decency to look slightly embarrassed by whatever they were about to ask.
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