Callista was the living embodiment of that untouched garden.
Everyone who looked at her instinctively wanted to protect and water her.
And watching Prince Alistair gaze at Callista with those soft, desperate eyes made the harsh reality undeniable.
Alistair hadn’t just chosen another woman. He had chosen a completely different world.
Where Corvina was sharp edges, cold political strategy, and suffocating expectation, Callista was effortless grace and quiet vulnerability.
Yet, what shocked Corvina to her very core was the sudden, jarring shift in Callista’s behavior.
In the eyes of high society, Callista was polarizing.
Many secretly preferred her gentle nature over the terrifying, hot-tempered Corvina.
But to others, she was just a wretched whore who had stolen the Crown Prince from his rightful betrothed.
She was supposed to be a timid, weeping mistress cowering in the shadows.
So when Callista had stood before her days ago, meeting her gaze without flinching, Corvina’s entire reality shattered.
"Because at this moment," Callista started. "I am declaring my own engagement... to her."
It gave Corvina a bizarre, intoxicating sense of power.
The fragile lily that the entire kingdom, and the future king, wanted to possess had willingly bent toward her.
If Alistair coveted Callista above all else, and Corvina now held Callista on a short leash, then who held the real power?
By claiming the prince’s ultimate desire, Corvina hadn’t just avenged her pride.
She had usurped his prize.
Callista was no longer just a rival. She was Corvina’s ultimate trophy, and ironically, much more useful to her future ambitions than she thought.
***
Original P.O.V
Corvina’s very first order was delightfully petty: Callista was to mind her manners, keep her chin up, and proudly parade around the academy with an unmissable hickey stamped on her neck.
Everybody saw it. Faculty, students, upperclassmen, lowerclassmen, and even high-profile figures like Ruben - and Alistair himself.
Technically, public displays of affection were strictly banned on campus. The academy was meant for higher learning, after all.
Unfortunately for Callista, her personal curriculum seemed to consist entirely of public humiliation and absolute submission to a tyrant.
In broad daylight, no less.
"Rub my feet."
"Yes, ma’am."
"Kneel. You don’t get to sit at the same table as me."
"Yes, ma’am."
During their afternoon break, they sat together on the second-floor bleachers overlooking the courtyard
Playing the human doormat was practically second nature to Callista.
In her past life as David, she had been the office push-over, the guy everyone dumped their tedious paperwork on while he aggressively brown-nosed management.
Granted, his old middle-aged manager had looked nothing like hot lady Corvina, but the corporate trauma was identical.
Though back in her world, half of what she’s doing would get her sent straight to HR and a state penitentiary.
Suddenly, Corvina’s glowing crimson eyes locked onto her.
Without a word of warning, a slim hand slid down and flipped up Callista’s skirt, earning a sharp, high-pitched squeak from the blonde.
"W-What are you doing?!" Callista yelped, slapping her hands down to hold the fabric.
"Just inspecting for contraband," Corvina purred smoothly. "Making sure your little maid didn’t leave any hidden marks anywhere else."
"We are not like that!"
"Then what did she mean by ’personally tutoring’ you?" Corvina leaned in closer. She was so obviously enjoying every second of this psychological torture. "What exactly was she teaching you?"
"Basic lore! History! Things I missed out on!" Callista stammered.
"Like how two people make love?"
"I obviously know how that works!" Callista hissed, her face burning a violent shade of red.