To be honest, I didn't want to stop either.
"Before we leave..." she resigned herself, taking a seat in the chair in front of the desk. She crossed one leg over the other.
She raised a foot, pointing one of her shoes at me.
There are gestures that don't need words.
Kneeling before the woman you love to fix the straps of her shoes is one of them.
She had looked at her ankles three times since we stepped out into the hallway. The straps were loose, some twisted. A tiny detail that anyone else would have ignored.
But Lianza wasn't just anyone.
"Wait," I said.
I knelt.
My knee touched the wooden floor. I took her ankle carefully. She tensed her leg.
"What are you doing?"
"What you see."
"I see you kneeling on the floor of a hallway."
"Exactly."
The left strap was wrapped around itself. I untangled it with my fingers. The leather was soft, dark, the same tone as the D'Tariel house shoes. I threaded the buckle. Adjusted. The second loop was on the outside. I corrected it.
Lianza remained motionless. Her breathing had slowed down. Too much.
"Dariel."
"Tell me."
"The door is open. People passing by are looking at us."
"Let them look."
"It's humiliating."
"For whom?"
"For you. You're on the floor. Like a servant."
"Like your bodyguard. Who also has to do servant duties. Who is also on the floor." I smiled and squeezed her calf. "And who is also absolutely happy to be here."
I looked at the wall clock. We still had six minutes left.
I moved on to the right shoe. Same strap. Same tangle.
Her fingers sank into my hair. A brush. Involuntary, probably. She pulled away immediately.
"Done," I said, fastening the last buckle.
I stood up. Lianza looked at me from the armchair. Her cheeks had color. A soft tone. Diffuse. The kind that appeared when something moved her and she didn't know what to do with it.
She stood up. She smoothed her skirt. She looked at her shoes, then at my hands, to finally end up at my eyes.
"Dariel Elcronne."
"Ma'am?"
"If you ever kneel like that in front of someone else..."
"Yes?"
She leaned in. Her mouth reached my ear. Her freezing breath crossed my earlobe.
"I'll kill you."
She pulled away. She straightened her back. She recovered her queenly posture. She walked toward the hallway door with the determination of someone marching off to war.
I stood there for a second. I could still feel her breath on my ear, along with that death promise echoing inside my head.
I smiled.
[Optional mission available: Kiss Lianza's hand in front of the History classroom before entering. 💋]
[Penalty for rejection: None. It's optional. See? Sometimes I'm good. 😇]
[Reward: +5 Affection Points → Lianza D'Tariel]
I looked at the screen. Optional mission. No penalty.
I raised an eyebrow. Very strange. If I knew anything about this System, it was that it gave nothing for free. Every one of its friendly emojis hid a thousand poisoned daggers. Every "optional" mission was a loose end that would later become a noose.
But those five affection points wouldn't hurt. I figured they worked like charisma points, but oriented towards a single person.
Maybe those five points would be the difference between her believing me or not.
"I accept," I muttered.
[Great! You remind me why you're my favorite user. 😘]
I stepped out into the hallway. Lianza was walking three meters ahead of me. I quickened my pace. I had to be one step behind her.
Always one step behind.
It was my place. Lianza went in front because the world demanded her there, chin up and that cold gaze. I went behind because someone had to watch her back. And because from there I could see when her Empero trembled around her body, unstable, loaded with everything she kept silent.
The hallways of Mayorka filled up at this hour. Nobles in closed groups, speaking in murmurs. Professors with books under their arms. Servants with silver trays that shone under the yellowish light of the lamps. Everyone stepped aside when they saw Lianza. Her Empero cleared the way better than any escort.
I was the one no one looked at more than once. "The Dog at Her Heels," according to that countess from the garden.
We turned the last corner before the History classroom.
And there, leaning against the right column of the entrance, Ardwyn was waiting for us.
Alone. No guards. Royal uniform made of a fabric that seemed allergic to wrinkles, covered with amber embroidery.
That smile that changed the tension in the room depending on what suited him.
He saw us. His gaze passed over Lianza. It stopped at her neck. It went down to her pronounced neckline, to then slowly go up to her eyes.
Then he looked at me.
"Your Highness," I said.
"Princess," Ardwyn replied. "I thought you wouldn't make it."
"Well, here we are."
"On time. Just in time."
He stepped away from the column. He looked at me.
"Elcronne."
"Your Highness."
"Do you have the princess's books?"
I was carrying her books under my arm. I had taken them from the private room without her asking. Ardwyn extended his hand.
"I'll carry them," I said.
"I didn't ask if you were carrying them. I asked if you had them."
"I have them."
"Good." He opened the classroom door for Lianza. She walked past without looking at him. Ardwyn followed her with his eyes. Then he turned to me. To my neck, to be more precise.
He smiled.
"Your seat is waiting for you, Elcronne. Front row."
Front row. In The Throne of Ashes and Thorns, the original Dariel never sat in the front row. A minor detail. But minor details in this unfair story had the habit of turning into tragedies.
The interior of the classroom had rows of ordered desks. Five wide and six long. Thirty desks occupied by nobles who pretended not to look at us.
Professor Vauxol was standing next to the blackboard, with an open book and the patience of someone who has waited ten minutes too long.
The front row had two empty seats. Next to each other.
And next to those seats, sitting with a stack of books in her lap and a messy braid falling over her shoulder, was someone else.
Layda noticed our presence. Her eyes widened and her lips parted, until she started blushing.
Ardwyn put a hand on my shoulder. His golden Empero brushed my back.
"Sit down, Elcronne," he said, pointing to the seat next to Layda.
Did he want me to move away from Lianza? No, wait. Ardwyn can be many things, but he's not an idiot.
He was plotting something.
"I saved your seat."