I sat rigidly in my tiered heartwood desk, my face locked into its typical deadpan expression while my snow-white owl ears twitched at the low hum of voices around me.
The lecture hall of the Befredon Royal Dungeon Diving Academy was sprawling, grown directly into the interior of a massive, ancient oak trunk. Sunlight filtered through high amber windows, casting warm geometric shapes across the wooden rows. To my left, Talestia leaned back against her seat, her heavy, ring-plated armadillo tail giving a slow, rhythmic tap against the bark floorboards while her amber eyes lazily scanned the room. Right beside her, Freya sat with her chin nearly resting on her notebook, her long white rabbit ears flattened nervously against her sky-blue hair.
Behind us, the rest of our elite noble class took up their traditional ranks. Rowan sat in stoic silence, his braided brown hair falling perfectly over his shoulders while his velvet-coated stag horns caught the ambient light. Vanya was alert, her feline ears twitching as her long leopard tail lashed the back of her bench, while beside her, Talia quietly flipped through a dark scholar scroll, her sylvan fox ears peeking through her pitch-black hair. Sylas, Cassian, Elara, and Maren filled out the remaining noble rows, their robes and light leather armor immaculate.
But the real focus of the room was directed toward the front rows, where several new faces sat with exceptional posture.
These were the high-achieving commoners—Kaelen, Joran, Lyra, Varis, Sariel, and Eldrin. They had completely shattered the kingdom's evaluation records during the rigorous entrance exams held last year, earning their seats alongside royalty through pure martial and academic metrics. They sat clustered near the central aisle, their simple homespun and basic training vestments contrasting sharply with the embroidered silk gowns of the aristocracy. Kaelen was aggressively sharpening a short training dagger, his honey-badger ears flattened in focused determination, while Joran sat like an unmoving boulder, his tortoise-like tail coiled tightly beneath his bench.
We were all waiting for our instructors to arrive. This morning was a joint advanced class, a rare and demanding assembly that required the presence of two separate professors to manage the high-density spell and skill theory required for the upcoming depths of Queen's Lament.
The grand doors at the base of the theater creaked open, the low sound instantly silencing the room.
Two of the academy's most powerful teachers stepped through the entrance, their contrasting presence shifting the entire mood of the room. On the left stood Professor Lorria, the majestic dark elf with pitch-black hair and eyes, her sharp twin golden horns gleaming under the amber window light. She wore high-collared leather combat clothes, carrying herself with a severe, unyielding grace as her long, elegant ears tapered upward.
Walking right beside her was Sallena, our spells professor. She appeared as a delicate little girl, but the massive, shimmering butterfly wings fluttering softly behind her shoulders glowed with a bright elemental energy that everyone in the room knew was incredibly dangerous.
"Sit down and prepare your books," Professor Lorria commanded, her voice dropping into a severe, sharp clarity that rattled the oak desks. She marched up to the central stone desk, her pitch-black eyes scanning the combined rows of noble families and top-scoring commoners. "The depths of Queen's Lament do not care about your bloodlines or your exam scores. If your fighting skills and active spells are not perfectly prepared before we hit the third floor, the beasts will break your front lines before you can even take a breath."
Professor Sallena floated slightly off the floorboards, her shimmering butterfly wings catching the dust as she waved a small, elegant hand toward the grand wooden board grown into the trunk wall.
"Today is a joint advanced class," Sallena spoke, her voice light and melodic but carrying an immense weight that demanded absolute focus. "Lorria will handle the physical weapon adjustments, while I will oversee the high-tier spell choices. With the second prince, Fadwin, and his frontline warrior, Retar, officially joining our deeper expeditions this term, your group formations must be flawless."
Sallena looked out across the tiers of students, her bright eyes locking onto the rows of noble heirs and high-achieving commoners. "Have any of you tried changing out your spell seals or masteries?"
"If you have," Sallena continued, her melodic voice echoing clearly through the oak hall, "you may have noticed that the moment you remove a seal to add another, the old one is completely gone. It vanishes back into the ambient mana, and you will be forced to reacquire the scroll and learn it all over again. This is always the case... unless you happen to possess a spell grimoire."
Across the aisle, several commoner students swapped wide-eyed glances, while a few of the high-born nobles shifted uncomfortably in their seats. They all knew the harsh reality of locking in their powers.
I sat perfectly still at my desk, my face remaining an unyielding mask of stone, though beneath the wood, my hands tightened slightly around the heavy book resting in my lap. I thought of the massive, emerald-plated grimoire I had just purchased in the market for little Amy. The ancient shopkeeper had called it an ultra-rare artifact, capable of holding up to four hundred spells and techniques safely within its heavy pages. Without a book like that, changing a strategy meant throwing away months of hard work and starting from scratch.
Professor Lorria stepped up to the board, the leather of her armor creaking as she folded her arms. Her pitch-black eyes turned toward us with a severe glare. "A grimoire allows a warrior to store their skills without destroying them. It is the ultimate tool for a versatile vanguard. But for those of you without one, every choice you make before entering the third floor is permanent."
Freya leaned across the aisle toward me, her long white rabbit ears flattening flat against her sky-blue hair as she dropped her voice into a frantic whisper.
"Good thing you got one for Amy," Freya murmured softly under her breath, her golden eyes wide with sudden relief as she thought of the massive book resting safely back at the palace. "Too bad you didn't get one for yourself... maybe one will drop in the deeper roots, or you might get one as a gi—"
"Shhh!" Talestia hissed suddenly, cutting her off instantly.
Talestia's heavy, ring-plated armadillo tail gave a sharp, warning thwack against the leg of the heartwood bench. She reached out and grabbed Freya's shoulder, pulling the blue-haired girl down toward her desk. Talestia leaned her head in close, her amber eyes darting toward the front of the room to make sure Professor Lorria wasn't tracking them, before she began whispering something low and urgent straight into Freya’s ear.
I sat perfectly still, keeping my face locked into a deadpan, unblinking mask of absolute stone as my snow-white owl ears twitched with intense suspicion. Even without turning my head to look at them, I could tell by the chaotic, jittery thumping inside my ribs exactly what Talestia was whispering about. She was undoubtedly teasing Freya about Prince Fadwin, probably hinting that my silver-armored fiancé would be the one to hand me an ultra-rare grimoire as a formal wedding gift. I stubborned my jaw, forcing my crystal-blue eyes to look straight at the wooden board to completely ignore them.
"Oh, I almost forgot," Professor Sallena added smoothly, her melodic voice floating over the rows of oak desks as her shimmering butterfly wings gave a sudden, graceful flutter. "We have two new students joining our class for this session. Step inside, please."
The heavy doors at the base of the theater swung wide open.
Second Prince Fadwin Fay Arcaneya stepped straight through the entrance, the pristine silver plates of his armor catching the light of the high windows. Right behind him marched Retar of the rat-kin tribe, his sharp whiskers twitching alertly as his long tail flicked behind his leather training clothes.
The exact moment my eyes locked onto the gleaming silver crest on Fadwin's chest, I felt a violent jolt of warmth rush straight through me. My heart skipped a massive beat, hammering against my ribs with that same chaotic thumping that always made me feel so confused. Desperate to hide my red face, I clenched my hands tightly under the desk and forced my face into a completely frozen, stubborn look. I refused to let my white-fuzzed owl ears give even a single look of surprise as the prince scanned the rows to find a seat.
I knew he was joining our class, I thought stubbornly to myself, my eyes locked straight ahead as the two new arrivals walked down the stone steps. But why does my heart flutter every single time I see him?
A sudden, defensive prickle of suspicion flared up through my mind, overriding the jittery thumping inside my ribs. There had to be a logical explanation for this bizarre physical surge. He had to be up to something nefarious. A punk-rock prince from the northern realm didn't just transfer into our dungeon diving generation out of the pure goodness of his heart. He was likely plotting some complex political maneuver, or maybe he was trying to manually break down my stoic defenses to gain an upper hand before our formal court dance at the end of the term.
I narrowed my crystal-blue eyes slightly, watching his silver armor gleam in the amber light. I refused to let my underlying elven biology betray my judgment. No matter how much my face wanted to flush with that uncontrollable heat, my analytical thoughts were on high alert. If Prince Fadwin was bringing a hidden agenda into the dangerous depths of Queen's Lament, my vanguard was going to be ready to ground his plans before he could ever pull a fast one on my squad.
"Princess Kirra," Professor Lorria called out suddenly, her severe, pitch-black eyes locking onto my desk with absolute, unyielding precision.
The leather of her high-collared combat clothes creaked as she turned fully away from the wooden board, her sharp twin golden horns catching the sharp amber window light. The entire lecture hall fell into a dead, breathless silence, the commoners and high-born nobles alike shifting in their benches to look back at me.
"Under the direct, explicit orders of King Arwin," Lorria announced, her sharp voice echoing off the high-canopy ceiling panels with an ancient military authority. "Prince Fadwin and the warrior Retar will be joining your vanguard party for the remainder of this training period. You will absorb them into your direct circle before we cross the threshold into the third level of Queen's Lament."
"Yes, Professor," I managed to say, forcing my voice to maintain its usual flat, steady tone to hide the utter chaos screaming inside my chest.
I kept my hands resting flat on the desk, refusing to look down at the floorboards or show any sign of weakness. I held my face in a perfectly stubborn, unmoving mask, but underneath my green leather tunic, my heart was hammering away like a wild beast trying to break out of a wooden cage.
Prince Fadwin gave a slow, respectful nod toward the front desk before turning his amber eyes directly toward my row. A faint, knowing smile played at the corner of his lips as he began walking up the stone steps, his heavy silver armor giving a quiet, metallic clink with every single stride. Retar followed right at his heels, his sharp rat-kin tail twitching with intense focus as he scanned the room.
Prince Fadwin slipped gracefully onto the heartwood bench directly next to my desk, the flawless silver plate of his armor catching the warm amber light. Retar moved right behind him, sliding onto the bench with a quiet rustle of his leather gear as his long, whip-like tail coiled neatly out of the way.
Fadwin turned his head slightly toward me, his amber eyes shining with a calm, unbothered warmth as he leaned closer to my desk.
"I can be the puller," Fadwin said softly, a genuine, friendly smile playing on his lips as he gestured toward the gleaming ancestral sword at his side. "And Retar here is excellent damage. I am truly happy to be working with you, Kirra. Let's get along well."
Beside him, Retar gave a sharp, disciplined nod of agreement, his whiskers twitching alertly as he kept his focus on the front desk.
I locked my jaw tightly, keeping my face perfectly frozen in an unyielding mask of stone to hide the intense heat that was practically burning my cheeks. I kept my eyes fixed dead ahead on the wooden board, refusing to look directly at his handsome smile or give him the satisfaction of seeing how flustered I truly was. He is far too cooperative, I thought suspiciously, my mind manually fighting down the erratic, fluttering thumps inside my chest. He was talking about drawing the beasts out of the dark corridors and letting his rat-kin warrior cut them down, acting like we were just ordinary classmates instead of an engaged royal couple bound by the King's absolute decree.
Talestia leaned forward over the back of our heartwood bench, her armadillo ears twitching forward as she boldly cut right into the conversation with a sharp, calculating look.
"Kirra usually draws the beasts out herself," Talestia chimed in, her gravelly voice dropping into a low, firm murmur that carried across our tight circle. "But I think after what happened on the third floor when she went ahead to scout and got kidnapped, we should keep her safe in camp. We should just use her tracking ability, keep her at a distance for raw ranged damage, and let her act as our secondary tank if things get messy."
Beside her, Freya nodded rapidly, her long white rabbit ears bobbing up and down with absolute agreement as she clutched her scholar notebook tightly against her robes.
I locked my face into a perfectly frozen, stubborn glare, staring intently at the front wall to prevent my white-fuzzed owl ears from giving a defensive twitch. Keep me safe in camp? I thought violently to myself, my fingers clenching against the edge of the desk. Ever since that terrifying kidnapping right on the third floor, my companions were openly trying to pull me back from the dangerous edge of the front lines. They wanted to relegate me to a secure position in the rear, relying entirely on my bow and my analytical tracking eyes while my silver-armored fiancé and his rat-kin companion marched straight into the teeth of the dark corridors.
I knew my father did this so the prince and I could grow closer, I thought stubbornly to myself, my teeth grinding together as I stared unblinkingly at the front of the room. But I am absolutely not going to play along.
My father was trying to use the dangerous, dark corridors of Queen's Lament as a breeding ground for romance, forcing us into tight proximity so our alliance would feel natural before the grand wedding. It was a completely transparent setup. He wanted me to rely on Fadwin, to let his silver armor shield me from the horrors below, and to let my defenses melt away under his cooperative charms.
Well, it wasn't going to work. I refused to be a passive pawn in their high court matchmaking game. No matter how much my elven blood wanted to betray me with that erratic, fluttering warmth, my conscious mind was firmly dug in. If they thought I would quietly sit back in the safe camp while the prince played the grand hero on the front lines, they were sorely mistaken. I was the leader of this vanguard, and I would command our path through the deep roots entirely on my own terms.
"I guess I cannot complain after getting kidnapped straight from the third floor and then beheaded out in the wild forest," I responded aloud, my voice dropping into its flat, deadpan clarity as I finally broke my silent glare.
I turned my head slightly, my crystal-blue eyes locking directly onto his handsome features with absolute, unblinking intensity.
"I agree to the arrangement," I continued coldly, keeping my face locked into a perfectly frozen mask of stone to hide the sudden, erratic thumping inside my ribs. "But I have my eyes on you, Prince. Do not think for a single second that I will tolerate a hidden agenda when we step through the gates."
Across the desk, Prince Fadwin did not flinch under my severe stare. Instead, his amber eyes merely softened with a calm, respectful warmth, and that same knowing smile played gently at the corner of his lips, as if he found my fierce suspicion entirely charming rather than threatening.
Behind us, the rest of our circle reacted dynamically. Talestia let out a low, amused snort that she tried very poorly to hide behind her hand. She leaned directly over Freya’s shoulder, her armadillo ears twitching with absolute delight as she watched my face flush with sudden heat. Freya kept her mouth clamped shut, but her long white rabbit ears were fluttering dynamically against her hair, a tiny, high-pitched squeak escaping her throat as she struggled to hold back a massive fit of rabbit-eared giggles. They knew exactly how trapped I was. My father had effectively locked my silver-armored fiancé right into my daily life, and there wasn't a single thing I could do to escape him.
Professor Lorria turned sharply back to the front of the theater, the heavy leather of her combat vestments creaking as she lifted a long piece of white chalk. With quick, aggressive strokes, she began drawing a map of the third floor on the large wooden board grown into the oak trunk wall.
"Enough whispering in the back rows," Lorria commanded, her severe, sharp voice instantly slicing through our circle to end the silent teasing. She tapped the chalk hard against the wood, leaving a thick white mark at the center of a narrow corridor drawing. "This is the primary choke point of the third level. If you do not split into your designated circles and coordinate your positioning, a single roaming pack of thorned beasts will envelope you in the dark."
Professor Sallena floated down smoothly, her shimmering butterfly wings giving a quiet flutter as her melodic voice filled the silent room.
"Split into your training parties immediately," Sallena instructed, her bright eyes scanning the tiered benches. "Princess Kirra, your circle will consist of yourself, Talestia, Freya, Prince Fadwin, and Retar. You are still one member short of a traditional six-fighter vanguard squad, but that will simply have to do for now. Secure your coordinates and prepare your deployment strategy."
The entire lecture hall immediately erupted into a low hum of activity as the seats shifted.
The six high-achieving commoners—Kaelen, Joran, Lyra, Varis, Sariel, and Eldrin—moved with a disciplined, top-scoring efficiency, quickly forming their own unified party near the central aisle. Kaelen took his place at the front of their block, his honey-badger ears alert, while Joran positioned his massive frame to anchor their defensive line. Across the theater, Rowan, Vanya, Talia, Sylas, Cassian, Elara, and Maren moved together to align the remaining noble families, dividing themselves into a secondary, high-born defensive block to secure their own deployment lines.
"Today we will hunt the third floor," Professor Lorria announced, her severe, pitch-black eyes shifting to scan the newly formed party circles. She tapped the chalk heavily against the board, highlighting six specific clearings hidden deep within the root networks. "It has six active camps that bring forth named monsters. You are to find the location of each clearing, confirm the exact gear and treasures those named enemies leave behind, and track how often they return to the dark corridors after being slain."
The entire lecture hall fell completely silent, the students meticulously writing the notes down onto their parchment sheets.
Professor Sallena floated slightly lower, her shimmering butterfly wings casting soft amber reflections across the front rows. "This exercise will test your tracking endurance and group coordination over the coming term. Every clearing is highly volatile, and the named beasts guarding them are far more intelligent than the standard roaming creatures you faced on the upper levels. Are there any questions before we dismiss you to the training yard?"
I sat perfectly deadpan, my crystal-blue eyes quickly memorizing the layout of the six active clearings drawn on the board. This was a massive, calculated resource operation. Five years of training lay ahead of us, and tracking the exact items and returning times of the third floor's greatest threats was the only way to ensure our five-member squad would be properly equipped before we ever challenged the deeper layers. Beside me, Fadwin shifted his silver armor with a quiet clink, his eyes focused sharply on the map, ready to draw the first target out of the dark.
Kaelen, the top-scoring commoner sitting in the front rows, raised a scarred hand high into the air, his honey-badger ears twitching with sharp focus as he looked toward the central stone desk.
"Umm, do we get to keep the items they leave behind?" Kaelen asked boldly, his voice ringing loud and clear through the silent theater.
"Yes, of course," Professor Lorria responded firmly, her severe features softening just a fraction as she addressed the front row. "The school will not take any items from you. However, the academy treasurers are authorized to buy any unwanted items or weapons your groups bring back from the depths."
She paused, setting the white chalk down on the stone desk before turning her full attention back to the tiers of benches.
"Furthermore," Lorria continued, her sharp voice echoing clearly through the oak hall, "there will be a grand one-on-one tournament once we break through the fourth level. A royal ball will follow immediately afterward to celebrate your progress. For those among you who cannot afford a formal dress outfit for the ball, the royal family has generously offered to purchase proper attire for all who lack the means."
The front rows immediately erupted into motion as Kaelen and the rest of the high-achieving commoners let out a loud, collective cheer that echoed straight through the oak rafters. They quickly turned in their heartwood seats, talking excitedly with one another as they gestured toward the map on the board, their faces bright with relief and fierce motivation. Behind them, a low, smooth murmur swept across the aristocratic rows as the noble heirs began to whisper among themselves, completely in awe of the immense generosity of the royal family. Even the most traditionalist high-born cadets swapped surprised, respectful glances, recognizing how deeply the crown was investing to unify the entire generation before they ever faced the horrors of the lower sectors.
Talestia leaned her elbows heavily against the back of our heartwood bench, her armadillo ears twitching forward as she injected her gravelly voice straight back into the noise of the room.
"Looks like you and your prince will get to enjoy a dance together," Talestia mocked in a sharp, quiet whisper right against my hair, letting out a low, wicked snicker. "Hehe."
Beside her, Freya stubbornly bit down on the edge of her pencil to drown out another high-pitched bird sound, her long white rabbit ears fluttering frantically against her sky-blue hair in sheer, helpless amusement.
I held my face in a perfectly frozen mask of porcelain stone, refusing to give them the satisfaction of a single defensive look or a flustered twitch of my snow-white owl ears. I stubbornly kept my crystal-blue eyes fixed dead ahead on the wooden board, completely ignoring the wild, erratic thumping that instantly redlined inside my ribs. Enjoy a dance together, I thought violently to myself, my fingers clenching into my green leather tunic. Between my father's heavy political traps, the upcoming bridal training, and my childhood companions turning every single royal announcement into an absolute matchmaking circus, surviving the dark roots of the third floor was going to be the easiest part of my entire semester.
Professor Lorria slammed her open hand down onto the central stone desk with a sharp, thunderous crack, immediately cutting through the chatter and regaining total order across the tiered benches.
"Silence!" Lorria barked, her pitch-black eyes flashing with an unyielding military severity that caused every cadet to sit up perfectly straight. Beside her, Professor Sallena floated back down toward her podium, her shimmering butterfly wings settling into a slow, calm rhythm as she lifted a clean scroll. With the room restored to absolute quiet, the two instructors began delivering their detailed, advanced lectures, tracing the chalk across the board to explain the proper method of channeling mana to activate spell seals and execute complex physical weapon styles without over-exhausting our internal reserves.
But I completely tuned out their words, failing to pay a single shred of attention to the lecture as I got utterly lost in the quiet labyrinth of my own thoughts.
I stared blankly at the chalk marks on the wall, my jaw locked into its typical frozen deadpan mask while my mind ran a fierce, defensive calculation. At least now I have a valid excuse, I thought stubbornly to myself, my fingers lightly curling against the wood of my desk. With the King ordering him straight into my vanguard party, I had every right to keep a permanent, unblinking eye on him to see if he was up to something underhanded. It wasn't like I liked him. There was absolutely no way these confusing, erratic feelings could mean that. They simply had to mean that my survival instincts were telling me to be wary of him, to treat his cooperative smile as a dangerous front for a hidden northern agenda.
Hehe...
A sudden, mysterious female voice snickers right inside the deepest dark of my own mind, its soft, chilling tone echoing with an ancient amusement that makes my entire body turn to ice.
My snow-white owl ears gave a violent, terrified twitch, flattening hard against my purple-tinted hair as my breath caught in my throat. I knew that voice. It was the exact same ethereal entity that had whispered in my skull right before the assassin's blade had cut through my neck in the wild clearing. It was the same voice that had echoed in my mind right before the green goblins had violently kidnapped me from the third floor. And even more terrifying, it was the absolute first voice I had ever heard in this world—whispering to my consciousness when I was still floating blindly inside my elven mother's womb.
I sat completely paralyzed, my crystal-blue eyes wide with horror as the phantom laughter vibrated through my soul, entirely shattering my stoic defenses while the professors' voices continued to drone on in the background.
The classroom suddenly fell completely silent as Professor Lorria’s severe, pitch-black eyes snapped away from the board and locked right onto my tier, her sharp golden horns catching the amber light.
"Princess Kirra," Lorria barked, her sharp voice echoing off the high rafters like a whip crack, instantly shattering the phantom laughter in my head and pulling me violently back to reality. "Since you are so deeply lost in your own thoughts, perhaps you can demonstrate your readiness to lead. Tell me the correct combat tactics to use when your vanguard faces three distinct threats down in a clearing—one dedicated healer, one heavily armored defender, and one backline spellcaster."
I blinked once, my snow-white owl ears twitching dynamically as my analytical mind instantly reset, locking my face back into its perfectly frozen porcelain mask. Beside me, Prince Fadwin shifted his silver plates with a quiet clink, his amber eyes watching me with a calm, curious look, while behind us, the high-achieving commoners and noble cadets alike leaned forward to hear my answer.
"You do not engage the defender head-on first," I responded aloud, my voice dropping into its flat, deadpan clarity as I stared unblinkingly at the front desk. "If you waste your physical striking power trying to break down the defender's heavy shield line, the backline spellcaster will crush your party with area attacks while the healer continuously mends whatever minor scratches you manage to land. It is a completely inefficient allocation of resources."
I stood up slowly, keeping my hands resting lightly over my green leather ranger tunic as I laid out the exact tactical map.
"First, the vanguard main tank must use a commanding shout to draw the immediate fury of the defender and the spellcaster, locking them into a predictable boundary line," I explained with cold, calculative precision. "The moment their positions are fixed, our swiftest strikers must execute a rear-guard disengagement pass, bypassing the heavy shield line entirely to strike the healer down first. If the healer tries to chant a restoration wave, our ranged archers must fire a wind-tipped arrow to pierce their throat and disrupt the spell. Once the healer is completely silenced and eliminated from the clearing, the strikers pivot immediately to cut down the fragile spellcaster, leaving the heavily armored defender stranded alone with zero backline support to be systematically dismantled by the combined weight of our blades."
Professor Lorria stood perfectly still for a long moment, her leather combat vestments creaking as she slowly nodded her head in grim approval.
"Flawless tactical judgment, Princess," Lorria spoke firmly, turning back to the wooden board to write the movement down. "But next time, pay attention to the class, please," Professor Lorria added, her severe, pitch-black eyes narrowing slightly as she pinned me with a sharp, warning glare. "Being a member of the royal family does not mean you get to slack off in my lecture hall. The beasts of the third floor will cut down a princess just as quickly as a commoner if your mind is wandering in the dark."
"Yes, Professor," I replied flatly, my face remaining an unyielding mask of porcelain stone as I slowly sank back down into my heartwood seat.
Prince Fadwin leaned slightly closer across the gap between our heartwood desks, the pristine silver plates of his shoulder guards shifting with a soft, teasing metallic rattle.
"Well, it seems even the grand Crown Princess cannot escape a stern talking-to," Fadwin whispered playfully, his amber eyes dancing with a bright, mischievous warmth as that same knowing smile curved his lips. "Do not worry, Kirra. If you ever feel like slacking off again, I promise to take good notes for the both of us."
A sudden, overwhelming wave of heat rushed straight up my neck and flooded my cheeks, making me feel utterly mortified with embarrassment.
I locked my jaw so tightly that my teeth literally ached, forcing my face back into a perfectly frozen, stubborn mask of stone while my snow-white owl ears flattened completely flat against my hair in pure defensive panic. My heart was thumping so chaotically inside my green leather tunic that I was certain the entire classroom could hear it redlining against my ribs. I fixed my crystal-blue eyes dead ahead on the wooden board, refusing to look at his handsome face or give him a single word of satisfaction. To be publicly scolded by a dark elf instructor was annoying enough, but to be teased about it right afterward by my silver-armored fiancé was an absolute, unmitigated disaster for my stoic composure.
Professor Lorria officially stepped away from the grand wooden board, placing her piece of white chalk firmly onto the stone desk. She straightened her high-collared combat clothes and fixed the entire room with one final, commanding glare.
"That is all for today," Lorria announced, her severe voice echoing off the high-canopy ceiling panels with finality. "Your training circles are set, and your targets are marked. Class is dismissed. Gather your weapons and march straight down to the training yard threshold. The third floor of Queen's Lament is waiting, and I expect your first tracking reports on those six clearings by dusk."
The entire lecture hall immediately erupted into a flurry of motion as the students stood up, the heavy oak benches scraping against the bark floorboards.