Ravina exhaled slowly, suppressing the instinct to tense as the prince’s words settled over the silent hall. The weight of the moment pressed in from all sides, but she pushed it away, shifting her focus to the one thing she could control—her movements.

She turned to Earl, keeping her voice low but firm. "Stay here."

Earl blinked, confusion flickering across his face. "What do you mean?"

Her gaze didn’t waver. "When you get a chance to leave, leave. Don’t worry about me."

For a moment, it seemed like he might argue, his hands twitching at his sides, but when he met her eyes, he froze. She had no time to reassure him, to explain what was happening or why. This wasn’t his world—he had no part in this fight.

He wasn’t a noble. No matter how much this kingdom prided itself on educating commoners, they were still second-class citizens. A single wrong word, a misplaced glance, and any noble could twist it into an offense. And offending a noble? That was a crime with no defense.

At least her family name would keep her safe—for now. Even if she had committed a crime severe enough to warrant execution, the Ravenshield name carried weight. Though her father could still wash his hands of her entirely.

She wasn’t sure where she stood with him. She wasn’t sure of anything anymore. She was a fake and only because he wanted a shield against his annoying vessels. Against marrying again, having another child. It was all so he could be left alone to grieve. Yet if she became too much of a hassle…

She just needed to ensure she didn’t become one. Taking a steady breath, she lifted her chin and stepped forward.

The moment she moved, the eyes of hundreds of nobles locked onto her, their collective attention as tangible as the air thick with perfume and candle smoke. The rustling of silks and murmurs filled the space as people shifted to get a better look.

Whispers followed her like a shadow.

"Is that her?"

"Ravenshield’s daughter?"

"She actually came forward?"

"What did she do?"

She kept her steps measured, her heels clicking against the polished hardwood, the sound swallowed by the vastness of the hall. The nobles instinctively parted before her, not in deference, but in scrutiny, allowing her a narrow path toward the raised stage. Their stares weren’t just curious—they were predatory.

She felt the Crown Prince’s eyes on her, watching her every move. This is his plan. That much, she understood. But why? She had never met him before. Never exchanged letters, never attended the same gatherings, never had any connection to him. She would have remembered the name Nevarius. Her staff would have told her if nothing else.

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There was no history between them.

At least, not directly. The Royal Family and the Ravenshields had always maintained a functional, if distant, relationship. Her house was the gatekeeper of the North, the first line of defense against potential invaders. Why do something so…humiliating? So public?

So why?

Why this? Why now? Why here?

Why? Why? Why?

Then it hit her.

The kidnapping.

All of this… just to publicly execute her image. She stopped for only a moment before forcing herself forward. She couldn’t afford to give them an inch. Fortunately, the steps were ahead of her, giving the illusion that she was simply pausing before ascending. The eyes couldn't see her hesitation. The eyes that cut into her skin, biting into her soul. But she wouldn't allow this. She tightened her jaw, forcing her breath to remain steady.

She was a proud, noble child with nothing to be ashamed about. She held her head high, her thoughts echoing as she tried to understand everything about the situation.

She had escaped. She had told her father and surprisingly he had believed her, just like that. He had brought knights into the City of Education to investigate. That alone had been a dangerous move. No private armies were allowed within the city. Only the royal family had the right to enforce laws here.

That had to be it.

They couldn't do anything against the count, he was too powerful a figure—but her? She was an easy target. If they destroyed her credibility, then every word she had told her father would be dismissed as nothing more than the desperate cry of a naive child. Worse, her father’s swift actions would be seen as reckless, an overreaction born of blind faith in his daughter rather than evidence.

This wasn’t about punishment. It was about control. It was about silencing her.

The realization set a slow fire burning in her chest.

She glanced toward the king. His expression was carefully composed, but his clenched jaw betrayed his anger. He was furious, but his hands were tied. The royal family had to remain united in the public eye; no king could afford division within his own house. His son had forced his hand, and now he could do nothing.

The queen, however, was smiling. It was small, subtle, but unmistakable. She wasn’t just aware of what was happening—she was pleased. Perhaps she had even been part of it from the start.

And then, there was the Crown Prince.

For the first time, she truly saw him. Not just his smirk, not just the casual amusement in his gaze, but the familiarity in it. The way his lips curled, the way his eyes gleamed with something dark and self-satisfied.

She had seen that look before.

Rupert.

A chill crawled down her spine. The resemblance in expression alone was enough to make her skin crawl. They could have been twins at that moment. Of course. The Baron had never had the power to run an operation like that alone. He needed help.

Royal help.

The thought nearly stopped her in her tracks, but she forced her body to keep moving. Her breath remained steady, her expression composed. If she showed weakness, she would only give him more satisfaction.

She ascended the stage, each step bringing her closer to the Crown Prince, to whatever awaited her next. The murmurs fell away as nobles watched, eager to witness what would come of this spectacle.

In any other setting, she would have been expected to bow before him. But this was a graduation ceremony. The Principal was the only one meant to call students to the stage, and it was not customary for graduates to bow when receiving their diplomas. The tradition had been created for practicality, a symbolic transition from childhood to adulthood.

She would not be the exception. She stood tall, proud, and unwavering, locking eyes with the Crown Prince. Whatever he had planned next, she would meet it head-on.