Taní peered around the corner, finding—thankfully—only the hall monitor. And painted upon their shoulders the fearless emblem of Dragonfang.

Hall monitors, as the student body oh so collectively murmured their names, didn’t belong to the faction hall they lorded over. Houses, though not ones to exchange, pledged their own members in a sort of trust system. He didn’t understand it himself, though Lavisa explained it an attempt to build favor between the Houses. Something Juneacão Juries (even the reluctant ones) did. Rivals they may be, they had to rely on each other for information, materials, and strength of arms.

And how did these monitors distinguish themselves from the common rabble? Through the distinctive, flamboyant finish upon their cape. Like a bunch of Juneacão with too much money to spend. A network of golden embroidery highlighted the edges of the cape, betraying either a dancing bird, dragons swaying, or serpents lunging at one another in a repeating pattern. This one bore an unmistakable Vlasalisk insignia.

Assured of his safety (really not being harassed), Taní stepped out of the corner and made his way down the too-clean white hall. The sun shone through the faux glass, granting them natural light instead of that artificial-but-almost-too-real radiance sprouting from the ceiling. He couldn’t truly “see” the source of its incandescence. It’d simply slink away from his sight until it became a mesh of yellows, blues, and reds that transformed into a wavering white.

Taní—unfortunately—made the stupid decision of meeting the monitor’s gaze, and though he didn’t want to, squeaked out an awkward “hello.”

The monitor, as expected, averted their gaze, and managed a monotone, “Try not to spend too much while you’re here. Your House is struggling as is. No sense in filling the pockets of another.”

“I wasn’t going—”

“I’d rather you not distract me while I’m on duty.”

Taní scanned the vacant hall. Not a peep echoed from either end. Unsurprising. Students never wandered the halls during school hours, especially grace. Most preferred the comfort of their grand halls.

He glanced at the right side of the hall. Judging by the plain signs smeared with shimmering markstone, they were clubrooms. Most students used them as a private resting quarter during this period. Or so Lavisa claimed.

Peering down the rest of the hall revealed Vlasalisk banners hanging from the ceiling as well as trophy shelves, pedestals, and plants decorating the walls. Towards the edge, he spotted the frame of a painting, or something that looked like, but off. Like someone had projected the appearance of a loved one straight from their memory and threaded it into the air.

Curious, Taní approached one, examined the thin, green haze painting the edges, then poked it. His finger only found the wall.

Taní fell in a poking trance, and to his heart's delight, stumbled upon an art display. Several paintings depicted bracers and an amulet, others of a man that bore a striking resemblance to Valtar. He was flattering in some; the color hitting him at just the right angle as he struck a noble pose. Others…

Well, it was fortunate that they were Juneacão.

“What’re you doing here, Fadénix?”

Taní flinched. Realizing his luck had run out, he turned to face Innes. The prince stood in the middle of the hall with his entourage. Eight strong.

“Oh…hey, Innes. Come here often?” Taní grinned.

“I live here, Fadénix,” Innes said dryly.

“Right, right…”

“Well? You’ve yet to answer my question.”

“I’m just having a look around.”

“And who gave you permission to do that?”

“Permission?” Taní peered at Innes, hoping he could dispel the mad illusion set before him. “People walk down this hall all the time. Why would I need permission?”

“Because one needs to earn the honor of traversing another’s wing. You’ve yet to earn it, and to be completely transparent, I doubt you ever will. Alas, my patience is short today.” Innes motioned to one of his goons. “See him out, Lisdin.”

Taní took a step back. “You can’t just throw someone out because you feel like it.”

“It’s within a student’s rights to rid the vicinity of any nuisance.”

“But I haven’t done anything!”

Innes appeared unphased by his outburst. “You being here is nuisance enough. You’d understand if you were in my position.”

Somehow, Taní doubted that. Ignoring the prince, he went around the group. Or at least tried to. Several members shuffled to the side, blocking his path with a wall of bodies.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Innes asked, his tone betraying the supreme arrogance that came with having such a punchable face.

“I just want to see more than my hall,” Taní said.

“Ah, but your nest is so cozy. Why would you want to leave it? The world is a scary place.”

“Don’t you think I know that? I’m a Grazer.”

“That explains why you’re so good at running.”

Taní rolled his eyes. Like I haven’t heard that before. He tried to squeeze past the blockade, but Innes’ goons shoved him back. Though gravity threatened to draw him into its sweet embrace, he stabilized after several stumbling steps, saving him the embarrassment.

“Grazers wander. They don’t run,” Taní corrected, pouring every ounce of certainty and defiance he could into his voice.

“You don’t need to lie to yourself. Why do you think they let you into Fadénix?” Innes asked.

“Cuz I’m resilient.”

“No. It’s because that’s where all the inept, thin-blooded rejects go.”

Stifling the overwhelming urge to knock Innes’ head off, Taní assessed the situation. He couldn’t win a one-on-nine fight. Not when his opponents wielded some degree of Sedd. Even if he were to use all the tricks he had at his disposal, that wouldn’t end well…

No matter how angry he got. He’d just get bruised up, like every time a squire teased him too much.

“Look, Innes, I get you don’t have anything better to do, but can you not?” Taní went the other way, only for the stubborn wall to shift.

“And let you sully Vlasalisk’s quarters?” Innes tsk-tsk’d. “No, I can’t have a crooked-winged hatchling spilling their putrid blood all over the blood. Have you not heard?”

Annoyed, Taní asked, “Heard what?”

“That Fadénix is prohibited from entering Vlasalisk territory.”

“Alright, but why?”

Innes smirked. “Because the only thing your lot does is bring misfortune. That, and making a fool of yourself, though that’s more a perk than anything else.”

“Are you done now?” Taní asked, not even looking at him anymore.

“Yes. You may go.”

Taní tried pushing ahead again, but just like last time, they shoved him back.

“What do you think you’re doing?” questioned the prince, his disdain replaced by confusion.

“Going my way.”

“I already told you: Fadénix isn’t welcomed here.”

“And I don’t care. So can you kindly get out of my way before I kick your—”

“What’s this?”

Taní stiffened as the refined voice brushed his ears. It was cool, matched only by the tranquil gasps of a late Greentide breeze.

He glanced over the row of shoulders, and when he couldn’t glimpse her, jumped to the tips of his toes. There, standing a small way behind the crowd, was a curious Lavisa.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“Ah, Voen.” Innes stepped through with a small smile, his lackeys parting around him. “It’s nice to see you again.”

She glanced at him, neither warmth nor amusement rendering her eyes. Even for a second-year, Lavisa was tall, so she had to lower her gaze to meet Innes’s. “I hope you’ve been keeping well, cousin. Care to enlighten me as to the commotion here?”

“A little birdy’s fallen from his nest, so I’m doing the responsible thing and helping him find his way back. Won’t be more than a minute. If you want, we could—”

“A Fadénix?” The group cleared as she stepped into the fray. Her lavender-sapphire eyes lit up upon spotting him. “Tanão? What’re you doing here?”

Innes frowned. “Tanão? You know the fray?”

“Of course. We often sit together during lunch.”

“YOU WHAT?”

Taní jumped as the shrill blast of noise slammed into him. Lavisa, unsurprisingly, appeared unphased. Turning to the boy with a less-than-amused turn of her lips, she explained, “Ever since his first day, we’ve shared lunch.”

“But—But you’re the royal heir!”

“Correction: I’m a student. My royal origins have no bearing on who I choose to interact with.”

“He…but I thought—” Innes voice drifted into a whine until he exploded once again. “You never eat with me! Or House Vlasalisk! Why him? Why?”

“If you must know, I prefer quiet, isolated settings while I eat. There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?” Lavisa questioned calmly.

The prince’s response? An incoherent stream of stutters. There were times when he managed a solid syllable, though even then that sounded like a whine. And the best part? His entourage was starting to appear concerned.

“I see your classes have taken a toll, cousin,” Lavisa said, drawing out the last word with such subtle indifference that it nearly stung. “Why not rest while you’ve the opportunity? I’ll take things from here.”

“But I was just—”

“Yes, you needn’t concern yourself. I’ll guide him to his wing. Now return and rest.”

Innes’s entourage scattered without another word, leaving the boy staring blankly at her. Taní, playing it cool, slid up to Lavisa’s side, earning an immediate glare from the prince. Then, and only after some painful grinding of his teeth, Innes scoffed and left.

After a moment, Lavisa started down the path Taní had been heading to. Hopefully, he wasn’t too late.

“Hey, thanks for saving me back there,” he whispered, catching up to her.

Lavisa waved a graceful hand. “Think nothing of it. Innes has a terrible habit of skulking our halls for prey.”

“That doesn’t sound dangerous…”

“You’ve no need to fear. He rarely bites.”

They passed yet another questionable art gallery and tempted though he was to bombard Lavisa with questions on the terrible display, something else came to mind.

“Lavisa? What Innes said about Fadénix not being allowed in the Vlasalisk wing… Is that true?”

The princess kept her gaze on the hall, her placid expression never turning. Somehow, the silence only made him more scared.

“I mean…if it isn’t true, it sure sounded like it was. I dunno. Maybe I’m just gullible,” Taní murmured.

“You aren’t,” Lavisa said.

“So, it’s true?”

“Not quite.”

Taní cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

“Due to Fadénix’s unfortunate reputation, their presence is seldom tolerated in another’s domain. Consider it an unspoken…disagreement among Vlasalisk and Dragonfang.” Lavisa’s eyes hardened.

“I’ve no idea why they buy into such petty superstition. Some even go as far to claim that they’re nothing more than petty thieves eager to steal another’s relic.”

“But…that’s impossible,” Taní said, more annoyed than confused.

“I know, but superstition has a way of eroding our already…well, questionable faculties.”

“Do you…” Taní’s voice fell to a hushed whisper. “Do you believe it?”

Lavisa glanced at him from the corner of her eyes. “No. I’ve experienced neither fortune nor misfortune from my interactions with them. As I have with mine House.”

Taní released a sigh he hadn’t known he’d been holding. At least she was sensible.

Suddenly, Lavisa asked, “Have you learned more of your missing relic?”

“Huh? Oh, no. I don’t really go pressing for answers much. Not like I’ll find it.”

“Oh? You never know.”

Wanting to discuss something a little more lighthearted, Taní asked Lavisa what she usually did during grace. Much as expected, she enjoyed writing in her free time. The fact was pleasantly surprising, however. Not because he liked reading. No, he couldn’t care less about a waste of parchment.

No, Taní found her writing fascinating because she noted down every joke that tickled her fancy. Her only issue was that she had come across a creative rut the previous year. The most she’d noted down were a handful of quips and or anecdotes she’d heard in passing. It wasn’t until Taní when her miniscule collection had expanded to a full six pages.

Just knowing someone prettier than all the flowers in the world had recorded him made Taní feel like the biggest, coolest thing since the moon.

Lavisa recited several of his jokes, snickering and choking even as she failed to still her squirming lips.

Taní found it odd that a princess of all people was a fan of comedy. She always appeared so stoic. Assignments couldn’t bring her down, but a well-timed joke? That made her crumble like a sandcastle.

Good blood, she was goofy.

“Tan-Tan!”

Taní grunted as an arm slung itself over his shoulder. Before he could manage a word, the smell hit him. Sweet, and buttery.

His eyes gravitated to the treat hanging before him. A puffy pastry filled with thick cream and sprinkled with chocolate shavings.

“Good blood, why’re you here? Thought you scheduled for the Dragonfang corner,” Jaster panted.

“Sorry, got a little distracted,” Taní lied.

“What, and wandered the backend hoping you’d find up?”

“Hey, I said I got distracted.”

“Then you weren’t lost?” came Lavisa’s soft voice.

Jaster turned to her and blanched. Not a moment later, he unhooked his arm from Taní and bowed, stiffened, then bowed even more deeply. “Ah, forgive me, your highness, I wasn’t aware—”

Lavisa raised her hand. “Enough of that. I wish to hear him.”

Taní snorted. She didn’t care for pleasantries, did she? After Jaster had awkwardly straightened, Taní spoke. “I just wanted to see the place, y’know? Never really get out much. Yeah. That’s it. Besides…” His gaze fell to her legs. “I was sorta hoping I’d run into you. Y’know…say hi.”

Lavisa let out an airy huff of amusement. “As it stands, I’d advise you not make impromptu visits to Vlasalisk’s domain.”

Taní deflated. Great, even she didn’t want him around.

“But I’m certain we can arrange plans to meet elsewhere. Perhaps a visit to the Fadenician wing would suit us? They don’t seem to mind visitors,” Lavisa said, her voice betraying the slightest hint of interest.

Taní whipped up to face her. “W-Wait… You mean like a date?”

“If that’s what you call arranging a meeting, then yes.”

“You really wouldn’t mind being with me? Or doing stuff with me?”

Lavisa inclined her head. “Don’t I already sit, talk, and eat with you?”

“Yes, but—” Taní shook his head, and after gathering his nerves, breathed. “No, sorry, yeah. We can make plans. I never really hang out with anyone.”

“You do know I’m standing right here?” came Jaster’s flat response.

He grinned. “Well, almost.”

The Nimmian returned his smile, forgiving him for his blunder. Lavisa asked him about how they’d met, and while Taní couldn’t reveal the truth behind their rooftop meeting, he opted to call him a simple “friend.”

She didn’t press for details, though she did occasionally eye the treats in the Nimmian’s hands. Jaster explained the pastry was a traditional treat from his homeland. And because of his mother’s skill, he was quite adept at baking them. Judging by the smell, he wasn’t lying.

“Y’know, it’s kinda weird seeing you around school,” Taní remarked.

“Yeah, the Joint is great n’ all, but even I need to come down for fresh air.”

“I really doubt the air is fresher down here than it is up there.”

They shared a small laugh, interrupted only by Lavisa’s burning question.

“How do you mean, Tanão?”

He looked at her, curious. “What do you mean how do I mean?”

“You mentioned it’s odd seeing him on academy grounds. Where else could you have met?”

“Oh…just around, really. Gardens, the training fields, the roof.”

Lavisa brow furrowed. “What was that?”

Jaster playfully—if not somewhat aggressively—pushed Taní forward. “C’mon, ‘nough chinwag! No offense, princess, but this isn’t something you eat cold.”

Taní, once he stabilized, snatched his treat from the Nimmian, and brought it to his mouth. Just as he was about to take his first bite, his eyes met Lavisa’s. This treat must’ve been amazing, but maybe…

“Would you like a bite?” Taní asked, extending the pastry to her.

Lavisa’s eyes widened. “Pardon?”

“Oh, uh…sorry. Guess I was a little quiet. I was just wondering if you wanted a bite.”

“As in sharing?”

“Yeah, we can go halfsies.”

Lavisa tilted her head. “Halfsies?”

Jaster slapped Taní on the back and drew him into a huddle. “Oi, what’re you doing?” he hissed. “You can’t just give a princess half your stuff! She needs it all!”

“What? Why?”

“Simple manners!”

Taní came to his conclusion after some thought and said, “But I don’t get anything out of it.”

Jaster groaned. Before the Nimmian could utter another complaint, Taní pushed him off.

“I’ve just been informed that it would be ‘rude’ of me to only give you half. So here you go.” He held out the pastry for her to take.

Lavisa’s gaze fell to the treat. The surprise replaced by something that almost resembled disappointment.

“I… No. I’m fine,” she murmured.

“You sure?”

“Yes, I’m certain. If nothing else, I can always purchase a snack from my House’s dispenser.”

Taní spared Jaster a glance. He was already munching on his pastry, his cheeks flecked with cream. It must’ve tasted good judging by those obnoxious moans.

Taní returned to his warm treat and gave it a light squeeze. So flaky and perfect. The thick cream looked as if it would melt on his tongue the moment he touched it. And the shavings of chocolate…a delectable concoction of mouth-watering bitter tones…

He brought the treat to his mouth, and though he commanded his teeth to sink into the slice of heaven, his heart refused to obey. The treat trembled in his unresponsive, stupid hand. With a sigh, he scolded himself and took the pastry in either hand, giving it an awkward twist-pull.

Taní expected it to tear cleanly in two, but a gash formed at the top. He panicked, adjusted the pressure, and then started the cycle all over again just for the ravine to grow. Realizing he had to be quick,

Taní ripped the treat apart.

As a result, the cream exploded from the vent and spilled onto his fingers. He fought back a horrified shrill, pushed through the terror and tore the pastry in two crude components. His eyes flickered from a ragged island to a jagged continent, though it was obvious which of the two was the better choice.

“Here…” Taní offered her the bigger, cleaner piece. “Hope you like it.”

An expression of profound awe graced the princess’s feature. It reminded Taní of the look on his brothers’ faces whenever their mother would present them with a gift, and just like them, she reached out with a shaky hand.

Thankfully, her gloves would spare her from the mess.

Once it was within her grasp, she worshipped it. Regarding this simple treat as if it were a bar of solid gold. Her lips eventually found the edge, but instead of devouring it, she nibbled. Savoring every bite despite its deformity.