What are you doing here?" Grace demanded, her voice sharp as steel. "You've got some nerve crossing the border and coming to my kingdom after trying to kill me in yours."
Azrion straightened, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve as though her anger amused him. "I didn't come for you," he replied coolly. "And I didn't try to kill you. I was only having a little fun. Were you that scared, Princess?"
Her eyes flashed. "So you do know who I am. And yet you still dare to trespass into my kingdom after putting my life in danger? Breaking the rules and speaking to me like this?" Her fists tightened at her sides. "Are you an expert at making trouble?"
"I…" He hesitated—just for a second—before his arrogance returned. "I owe you no explanation. Besides, you might be a princess… but don't you know who I am?"
"I don't care who you are," she shot back. "All I know is that you're trouble. And an annoying psychopath."
His expression darkened. "What did you just call me?"
"You heard me." With a swift motion, water spiraled from the air around her, forming a shimmering whip in her grasp. "Now get out of my kingdom."
Azrion's amber eyes ignited crimson. The sky reacted to them with a crack of thunder. "I don't take orders," he said coldly, "especially from weak girls like you."
The air thickened. Lightning flickered overhead as water coiled and fire shimmered in defiance. Two heirs stood on the brink of war.
And then—Grace lowered her weapon.
The water dissolved into mist. She exhaled slowly, her shoulders sinking.
"What are you doing?" Azrion asked, confusion flickering across his face.
"Leaving," she said quietly. "I won't be the one to start a war. You're not worth my time." She turned away, her voice firm. "But if my guards catch you here, I won't protect you."
Azrion stood frozen, something unfamiliar tightening in his chest. Her dismissal stung far worse than any strike could have. After a moment, he vanished into the shadows, returning to his own kingdom with thoughts heavier than he cared to admit.
The next morning, Grace awoke exhausted. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, but duty did not wait for rest. She arrived late to the academy training grounds, breathless and unsettled.
Sir Herold stood at the center of the arena, arms folded behind his back.
"So, Your Highness," he began calmly, though his gaze was sharp, "would you care to explain your lateness?"
Grace bowed her head slightly. "I have no excuse, Sir Herold."
He studied her for a moment, then gestured toward the open field. "Very well. Since you are late… perhaps you can give us a little show."
Her heart skipped. For a split second, doubt crept in. There's no lake here… no pond.
Then her expression hardened. I don't need one anymore.
She inhaled deeply and stepped forward.
The air trembled as moisture gathered at her command. Water swirled upward, spiraling into an Abyssal Grasp, tendrils snapping like living serpents. With a swift turn, she redirected the current into a roaring Dragon Torrent, its form arching like a great beast before crashing harmlessly into vapor. Lightning crackled faintly within the waves, shimmering like veins of light.
The arena fell silent.
Sir Herold approached, a rare smile touching his face. "Well done."
Relief softened her features. "Thank you, Sir."
"You were impressive, Crystal," Arnold added, stepping forward awkwardly. His hazel eyes lingered a moment too long. "And… uh… beautiful too."
A faint blush rose to her cheeks. "Thank you, Arnold."
"Oh please," Maria cut in with a playful scoff. "Like she didn't look beautiful before."
Laughter rippled through the group, easing the tension.
But Arnold's smile faded slightly. "Are you really okay? Why were you late?"
Grace hesitated. The weight in her chest returned.
"There's something I need to tell you both," she said quietly. "But you have to promise not to tell anyone. Especially my family. It could cause trouble."
Maria and Arnold exchanged a glance. "We promise," they said together.
Grace led them to a quiet corner and told them everything—her first encounter at the border, the confrontation at the lake, the fire in his eyes.
Arnold's expression darkened. "Are you sure he's not a threat? Shouldn't we tell your parents? Did you at least get his name?"
"No," Grace admitted. "And for now… I can't tell my family."
Maria tapped her chin thoughtfully. "hmm, You said he had fire powers, right? And the way he dressed… Did you notice any scales?"
"Scales?" Grace frowned. "i'm not sure… why?"
"With your description," Maria said carefully, "there's a strong possibility he's the prince of Zerathion. The one rumored to carry the heritable traits of the Red Dragon."
Grace's breath caught. "A prince? But… what would he be looking for here?"
Arnold folded his arms. "Forget him for a second. What were you doing at the lake that late?"
Grace opened her mouth—then closed it.
"I…" She looked down at her hands, still faintly trembling. "I don't know."
And that frightened her more than anything.