It was just after dinner.
Not that Imeena had eaten dinner.
She'd stood like a ghost in the corner of the dining hall, arms crossed, pretending not to exist while Kaelith argued with a maid about whether the dessert tart should be categorized as "civilian" or "tactical pastry."
Lily had laughed so hard she almost fell out of her chair. Queen Serisa had lifted one brow like she was planning seventeen new missions for Imeena on the spot.
And Imeena?
She'd stared at her wine glass.
She was still thinking about that damn wine glass now, pacing in her chambers, teeth grit and jaw locked.
"Pure Celestian vintage," she mimicked under her breath, twisting the last word like a knife. "Distilled under a bloodless moon. Harvested by spirit-blessed monks. Refined in crystal barrels only sung to by virgins. Shut up."
She threw herself onto the narrow couch, one boot landing with a thud on the edge of the low table.
She wanted a drink. A real drink. The kind that burned when it went down. The kind that made your ribs warm and your memories fuzzy. Something strong, unholy, possibly banned in three kingdoms. But no—
Not in the Celestian palace.
Here everything was so… polished.
The wine sparkled like regret. The furniture gleamed. The staff smiled with that tight, overly trained look that meant they'd report you if you blinked aggressively. And worst of all...
Worst of all—
She was protecting someone who, by all definitions of her past, should've been her enemy.
Imeena leaned back and glared at the ceiling.
Kaelith.
The girl was everywhere. Bright, loud, dramatic. The walking embodiment of every headache Imeena had ever tried to drown in whiskey.
She wasn't even reckless in a consistent way one minute charming diplomats, the next dangling from balconies, arguing about things, then training at dawn like she wasn't half insane.
And it wasn't even that she was bad.
That would've been easier.
No, Kaelith was smart. She was dangerous. She had power, and confidence, and bite. And she made everything worse by being beautiful, infuriating, and just unpredictable enough that Imeena couldn't fully hate her the way she wanted to.
It was a trap.
A slow unraveling of the boundaries Imeena had set the moment she'd taken this cursed assignment.
You don't care, she reminded herself. You protect. You leave. That's it.
Her eyes flicked to the eastern wall.
Several of her chains were coiled there, glowing faintly under suppression glyphs. Each one was linked through magic, space, and instinct to wards placed near Kaelith's suite. A protective tether.
Imeena could feel them in her bones. Threads of awareness woven like nerves under her skin.
If Kaelith was hurt, if someone crossed a line, if a single drop of her blood fell, Imeena would know before the blade finished moving.
But it meant she couldn't be too far. Couldn't leave. Couldn't vanish into the night like she wanted.
She was anchored here.
Like a prisoner.
Imeena stood up, swiping a hand across her face.
Her boots echoed on the polished stone floor as she crossed to the wardrobe.
It opened with an arrogant little click.
Inside, hanging like a sneer, was the Celestian Academy uniform.
Imeena stared at it.
Fucking hells.
It was pristine. Pressed. Dyed in dignified navy and polished silver trim. The jacket was tailored to exact military specifications, with reinforced stitching and ceremonial crest embroidery.
The pants were clean-lined, sensible, and likely warded against blood and ink.
It even came with a tie.
A tie.
Imeena hissed through her teeth.
She stepped back like it might bite her.
"This is a punishment," she said aloud. "This is a karmic punishment."
The chains across her wrists twitched in agreement.
Imeena yanked the uniform from its hanger and tossed it onto her bed.
It landed with a flump, looking insulted.
She stared at it. Then grabbed a knife from the drawer.
If she was going to be forced into this ridiculous farce, she was going to make damn sure everyone knew exactly how little she cared.
She sliced off the tie first. Then the lower trim. Then opened the jacket's left sleeve with one clean cut and added a few slashes near the hem.
She shortened the coat, tore out the formal crests, and replaced the buttons with dull black bone ones from her travel gear. The collar she kept barely because it helped with chain concealment.
The end result?
Still formal. Still structured.
But hers.
A little wild. A little grim. A warning instead of a welcome.
She dragged it on and looked at herself in the mirror.
The jacket framed her shoulders well, cropped just enough to show the edge of the combat belt she'd added.
The cuts along the sleeves revealed the first line of golden glyphs on her forearms, glowing faintly under the dim light.
Professional enough to pass inspection.
Terrifying enough to keep people from trying to talk to her.
Perfect.
Imeena stepped back and crossed her arms.
"This is my life now," she muttered. "Wearing a school uniform, babysitting a war princess, avoiding wine blessed by moon monks, and being magically anchored to the only person on this continent I'd consider drop-kicking into a portal."
She sat back on the edge of her bed, the fabric rustling like the world itself was mocking her.
She closed her eyes.
One more day until this whole mess officially began.
One more step into madness.
And no matter how much she hated it…
No matter how loud her instincts screamed…
She would see it through.
Because somewhere beneath all the sarcasm and steel, a single truth still burned.
She had made a promise.
Keep Kaelith alive.
Even if it killed her.