As the professor's footsteps faded into the distance, signalling the end of the session, I cast a quick glance around the room. The scene before me was a familiar one—nobles exchanging polite smiles, exchanging pleasantries, and seeking new alliances or connections. Nothing out of the ordinary. Half of the first day at the academy had passed, and to be honest, I felt little more than indifference. Was this really worth it? I thought, my gaze drifting toward the window.
The Imperial Academy of Heavel, even with its towering spires and its air of prestige, felt strangely dull. The endless cycle of lectures, training, and rehearsed formalities was starting to blur into one unremarkable routine. The academy, after all, wasn't truly about merit. It was about who you knew. Connections. A name. A simple stroke of luck or birthright, and poof—you find yourself here, rubbing elbows with the same faces, the same empty words. The glamour of it all was quickly fading. All of this was starting to feel… boring.
"Verena."
The soft whisper of my name cut through the silence, pulling me from my thoughts as I stared out the window, lost in the view.
I turned slowly, meeting his gaze. "Lord Lucian."
His golden eyes glinted with a mix of amusement and annoyance. That look. It always made my lips twitch. Teasing him was becoming my favourite pastime.
He glanced around the room, his expression shifting into something more playful, more mischievous. A sly smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Lia."
I froze, my usual composure faltering. "Lucian!" The sudden slip of my voice drew a few curious stares from nearby students. Realizing my outburst, I quickly regained my usual calm, though my heart skipped a beat.
"That's more like it." His voice was low, but firm, as his smile deepened. "Call me Lucian, Verena. At least when we're alone. And no more of this formal nonsense, understood?"
I fought to keep the serious expression on my face, but my pout gave away my amusement. "Yeah, I got it."
Lucian's voice broke the momentary silence, his tone casual yet somehow laced with an underlying amusement. "So, I was wondering if you'd be my partner in the next swordsmanship session?"
I turned to him, raising an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corner of my lips. "Hell no," I replied without missing a beat, the words coming out with more bite than I intended. "Do you want to blow our cover, my lord?
Well... Maybe the academy is not too bad.
Next on the schedule was the swordsmanship class. The third lecture of the day was always a practical one—sword fighting, hand-to-hand combat, survival training, and other such physical exercises. It was a break from the usual lectures and one that kept everyone on their toes. The academy, in its surprising display of forward-thinking, allowed its female students to opt out of these rigorous training sessions in favour of etiquette courses, should they choose. I couldn't help but appreciate that, for all its prestige and traditions, the academy didn't discriminate between the sexes when it came to the core of their education. Still, I was more than content with the sword in my hand rather than a fan or parasol.
The academic classes for our year were, Angelology, Demonology, Celestial Magic and Divine Arts, Heavenly Law and Politics, Swordsmanship and Combat Training (Heavenly Duels), Sacred History and Celestial Prophecies, Etiquette and Courtly Graces (Optional for Nobles), astral Navigation and Celestial Mapping, Divine Healing and Angelic Care and Guardian Dynamics. Celestial Magic and swordsmanship are my personal favourite.
The moment I stepped onto the training grounds, the atmosphere crackled with energy. Students sparred, their blades flashing in the sunlight, and the sound of metal clashing filled the air. Excitement bubbled inside me, a welcome change from the monotony of lectures. As I observed the duels, I couldn't help but admire the graceful movements and sharp precision of my peers.
I took a deep breath, trying to focus on my own form rather than the unspoken expectations that surrounded me. Here, I could lose myself in the rhythm of combat, the dance of swordplay. But the thought of blending in weighed heavily on my mind. I could already feel the eyes of my classmates, wondering why I seemed so interested when I should have been more like them—cautious, calculating, and reserved.
I felt a rush of adrenaline as I grabbed my practice sword, its familiar weight settling comfortably in my hands. We began with drills, moving in pairs, and practising lunges and retreats. Every strike, every dodge was an exhilarating release, but I kept my prowess under wraps. It was hard to blend in when I was a step ahead when my instincts kicked in effortlessly.
Looking around, I caught glimpses of Lucian sparring with another student. He fought with the confidence of someone who had trained for years, his movements sharp and precise. I watched, half-amused, half-impressed, as he effortlessly parried a blow and countered with a swift strike that sent his opponent reeling. For all his skill, Lucian was still holding back. Typical.
"Distracted, are we?" a rough, shrill voice broke through my thoughts, followed by the rush of air as a sword sliced toward me.
I sidestepped at the last moment, narrowly avoiding the blow. My heartbeat quickened, but I kept my expression cold, unbothered. I barely dodged it.
I turned to see a young man with a hulking build, ash-like hair, and deep brown eyes. He held his sword at the ready, a smirk curling his lips. "If all you wanted was to stare at boys here, Lady, you should've chosen etiquette lessons instead."
I met his gaze, my expression cold and unwavering. "If you need cheap tricks to get my attention, then this is hardly a fair fight," I said, voice low and edged with disdain.
"A girl playing with swords, huh?" he scoffed, his lips curling into a smirk. "You'd be better off practising curtsies. Swordsmanship isn't meant for delicate hands like yours—it's for those of us who were born for it."
"You aren't born with the talent of it. You're useless."
"You aren't born with the talent of it.
You're useless."
"Sister, you should give up."
"Lock her up, she's a curse to be born."
Fuck it. It reminded me of all those traumas. Again. I could feel the walls closing in as my pulse quickened, my vision narrowing. The world spun, and it was like a dagger had found its way back into my chest, twisting deep. Fainting in the practice ground? Humiliating.
In the haze, I saw the man's sword swinging toward me. Its edge glinted, cutting through the air with a speed which might actually hurt me. Bleeding at the hands of a second-rate swordsman would be even worse than fainting, wouldn't it?
CLANG!
The world spun as my knees buckled beneath me. The last thing I registered was the ground rushing up to meet me before everything faded to black.
When I came to, I lay on the grass, the warm sun filtering through the branches overhead. A gentle hand rested on my forehead, and the familiar scent of lavender filled my nostrils.
"Lady Verena, can you hear me?" A voice pierced through the haze.
I opened my eyes to see Lady Silvana kneeling beside me, her striking features twisted with concern. An upperclassman from Persia, she was known for her commanding presence. We had met once when I was little; though she may not remember it, her presence was unforgettable.
"What happened?" I croaked, still disoriented.
"That oaf," Silvana spat, her voice a mix of frustration and fury as she gestured toward Abel, who stood a few paces away, smirking at the scene. "You think you can insult everyone and walk away unscathed? You should know better than to provoke a noblewoman. Isn't this basic etiquette taught in our kingdom?"
Abel shrugged, his expression nonchalant. "She should toughen up. If she can't handle a little taunting, maybe she doesn't belong here."
Before Silvana could respond, Lucian appeared, his golden eyes scanning the scene with an intensity that cut through the tension. "What happened here?" he demanded, his voice calm yet authoritative.
"Nothing," Abel replied, dismissing the concern in Lucian's gaze. "Just some practice. She's weak, that's all."
Lucian shot him a disapproving look before kneeling next to me. "Are you alright?" His voice lowered, careful not to let anyone catch the warmth behind his words.
I nodded, forcing myself to sit up. "Just a little dizzy." The sharp memory of the taunts lingered at the edge of my consciousness. Ouch. That hurt my pride.
"Let's get you to the infirmary," Lucian said, his tone softening. He helped me to my feet, steadying me as I swayed.
"I can walk," I insisted, brushing him off, though my legs felt like jelly.
Lucian threatened Abel. "You better watch your mouth next time. I won't let this slide."
With that, we began to make our way toward the infirmary, the echoes of the practice ground fading behind us. I caught one last glance of Abel. Though he didn't dare say a word to me in front of Silvana, he was looking down on me. His gaze was humiliating. He's done for.
As we walked, I shot Lucian a defiant glare. "No need."
Lucian's brows furrowed in concern as he glanced at my injury. "We're going there. You're hurt, Verena."
My deep brown eyes met his, challenging his authority.
He opened his mouth to argue, but the words caught in his throat. I could see the hesitation in his eyes; he knew better than to provoke me when I was in this mood.
"Why did you choose to hide your skills, Verena? What if you actually got serious injuries? What—"
"Give me some of your divinity, Lucian. I've got to teach someone a lesson today."
His expression shifted, clearly torn between wanting to help and fearing my wrath. He opened his mouth, probably to protest, but then thought better of it.
---"You're angry, Lia."