Of all the curses that could've defined her life chains that whispered, bloodlines erased, ghosts in her sleep—Imeena still ranked public ceremonies as the most insufferable.
She was currently standing in the outer courtyard of the Celestian Academy, the sun already burning her collarbones through her modified uniform, surrounded by glowing banners and hopeful teenagers ( adults) who smelled like fresh ink and unresolved trauma.
She hated it here.
And it wasn't even day one.
"Gods above," she muttered under her breath. "If this is orientation, I want to be reincarnated as a tree."
They'd just arrived, barely past the gilded gates, when Kaelith turned to her with a too-bright smile and said:
"I'm… actually kind of nervous."
Imeena didn't even blink.
"Okay?"
Kaelith's brows pulled together. "I've never done this before. I mean—not here. Not like this."
Imeena tilted her head. "You're the daughter of two queens."
Kaelith nodded. "Yeah, but that's different. This is new. This is—"
"—your problem," Imeena said flatly.
Kaelith blinked.
Imeena didn't elaborate. Just looked away.
She wasn't here for moral support. She wasn't here to soothe nerves or deliver pep talks. If Kaelith wanted someone to hold her hand and tell her she was destined for greatness, she could summon a bard.
Imeena was here to protect her from assassins, stalkers, and exploding textbooks.
That was it.
Still, Kaelith looked at her for another beat like she was hoping for something—anything.
Imeena adjusted her scarf.
Said nothing.
Kaelith exhaled and turned toward the main path.
The courtyard had been transformed.
Floating banners draped between marble columns, each bearing the Celestian sigil: a constellation encircled by a silver chain, meant to represent unity through struggle.
Irony was dead, apparently.
Students milled around the open space, whispering, laughing, showing off enchanted items like it was a magical market fair.
Faculty members floated from group to group, all robes and authority. A stage had been conjured at the northern edge of the plaza—elegant and pristine, made of pale stone and outlined in soft light glyphs.
Above it hovered an amplified speech orb.
Of course.
Imeena ground her teeth.
She found the furthest column with the deepest shadow and took her place. One foot forward. Arms folded. Head slightly tilted so her face disappeared into the folds of her scarf.
She was practiced at invisibility. Not the magical kind. The learned kind—the kind where you knew exactly how people saw threats and how to slide just beneath that radar. Today, she didn't need attention. Didn't want the rumors.
Someone was already whispering about the "demon princess" who showed up in armor-polished boots and a voice like fire.
Let Kaelith have the spotlight.
Imeena would take the exits.
The headmaster—Principal Daelith, with his white ceremonial coat and annoying gravitas stepped onto the stage.
His voice echoed across the courtyard as the orb picked it up and spread it like a net across the crowd.
"Students, honored faculty, and visiting dignitaries," he began, voice like honeyed marble. "Welcome to a new year at the Celestian Academy."
The crowd quieted. Imeena didn't care.
"This year, more than ever, we step forward into unity. Into challenge. Into history. We welcome students from every bloodline, every house, every magical art…"
Imeena shifted her weight. Eyes scanning the perimeter. Two guards at each exit. Four security mages hovering near the dormitory spires. A cloaked figure near the library window—student, probably, but she logged it anyway.
"…we are honored this year," the principal continued, "to host our first interspecies royal heir. A symbol of peace. Of promise. Of possibility."
Kaelith stood just a few feet from the stage, spine straight, hands folded in front of her like the world hadn't just shoved her forward.
But Imeena could see it.
The tension in her jaw.
The slight tremor in her fingers.
The way she kept looking around the crowd, searching.
Imeena narrowed her eyes.
She didn't need to reach for the chains. She could feel Kaelith's pulse like a beat just outside her own. Her magic always whispered when Kaelith felt threatened.
And right now?
Kaelith wasn't in danger.
She was just nervous.
Unfortunate, Imeena thought. Truly.
She remained still. Silent. Detached.
Let Kaelith handle it.
Principal Daelith raised his hand. "Princess Kaelith Daemara. If you would honor us."
A gentle round of applause broke out. Polite. Curious. Watching.
Kaelith ascended the steps with grace, but Imeena saw the tension—her fingers were clenched into her sleeves for a heartbeat before she let go. Her smile was polite, regal, but her eyes...
Imeena saw them search the crowd again.
Saw them flick past rows of robes and ribbons and linger near the far columns.
Until they found her.
Imeena didn't blink.
Didn't smile.
Kaelith's lips curved just slightly, that soft smile blooming like a flower despite the nerves, despite the pressure, despite the weight of an entire realm waiting for her to speak.
Imeena?
Looked away.
Imeena didn't look back at Kaelith after that.
She kept her gaze trained on the far edge of the courtyard, where the sunlight hit the garden wall and two upperclassmen were quietly enchanting their notebooks to hover like birds.
Easy to watch. Easy to ignore. Not glowing with pride. Not... smiling like that.
Because that smile—that little flicker of warmth Kaelith had tossed her way—it lingered.
Imeena could still feel it, like a warm breeze brushing the edge of her awareness. Too soft. Too directed. And far too personal.
It wasn't meant to be weaponized. That was the worst part.
Kaelith hadn't smiled to manipulate her. She'd smiled because she was genuinely looking for reassurance.
Which, Imeena reminded herself, is not my job.
She didn't come here to be someone's emotional safety net. She wasn't interested in being comfort, or company, or anything that could be mistaken for affection. She was here to erase threat.
And Kaelith's nervous glances were not a threat.
They were a distraction.
Imeena refocused, adjusting her stance slightly to reduce pressure on her back.
She tracked the guard rotation to the west, the flickering of surveillance glyphs high above the tower roofs, and the signature hum of at least four detection spells pulsing under the courtyard stones.
All clean.
Kaelith's voice began to echo over the orb, soft at first, then stronger, clearer. It had a rhythm. A confidence. She was good with people. Good with words.
Imeena didn't listen.
She didn't need to. The content of speeches never mattered—only the eyes of the people listening, the ones too still, too tense, the ones who waited for openings instead of applause.
None today.
For now, she was safe.
And Kaelith?
Still standing up there, finishing her speech, still far too bright for someone raised in a kingdom of shadows and fire.
Imeena's jaw tightened.
Three years of this.
Three years of speeches. Of smiles. Of eyes searching for her in every room like she was some kind of anchor.
She sighed.
And then the Principal stepped forward again, his voice reclaiming the orb, loud and noble:
"Thank you, Princess Kaelith, for your inspiring words. Now…"
He paused. A smile.
"…we are going to announce the students and their class."