Isla reached out, but he had already turned and was hurrying down the hall, disappearing around the corner without looking back.
Isla spent the rest of her day sitting in her lavish, sunlit classroom, staring blankly at the chalkboard. She didn't absorb a single word the magical theory professor said. Her mind was entirely consumed by the image of Dorian's tearful eyes.
'He is treated like absolute garbage simply because he doesn't have royal blood,' she thought bitterly. 'But he is human! He is smart, and kind, and he wants to learn.'
She slumped in her chair, a deep, weary sigh escaping her lips. 'This is exactly why I hate this world. The entire planet is just filled to the brim with absolute stupids. It honestly feels like I am the only sane person left alive here. Well, not sane, maybe just... normal.'
Her dark, brooding mood lingered for the entire carriage ride home. When she finally trudged through the grand, gilded doors of the royal palace, she was so lost in her own melancholy thoughts that she barely registered her surroundings.
"So! How was the very first day of school, my little pooped princess?" the King's booming, jovial voice echoed across the entrance hall.
Normally, she would have shot him a fierce glare for using that ridiculous nickname, but today, she didn't even turn her head. She simply walked past him in complete silence, her small face set in a stony expression, and headed straight up the grand staircase to her room.
The King stood frozen in the foyer, his massive frame utterly completely still, his jovial smile slowly fading into utter shock. In all her years, Princess Isla had never once ignored him.
Later that evening, long after the moon had risen high over the palace towers, the heavy oak door of Isla's bedroom creaked open.
"My little princess?" the King murmured softly, stepping into the dimly lit room.
"Yes, Dad," Isla replied quietly from her enormous, canopy bed.
The King walked over and sat carefully on the edge of the mattress, the springs groaning in protest under his immense weight. "Why is your mood so incredibly dark today? Did something terrible happen at school?"
Isla crawled across the massive bed and gently rested her small head in his large, warm lap. "Dad... isn't it wrong to completely steal someone's childhood just because they are born a commoner?"
The King frowned, his thick brows furrowing in genuine confusion. "I... I do not quite understand, little one. Let it be, you are too young for such heavy thoughts."
"No, you won't understand unless I explain it," Isla insisted softly, looking up at him. "Dad, I met a boy at school today. He is so good, Dad. He is so kind, and he absolutely loves to learn. He wants to study so badly.
But because he is a commoner, he isn't allowed to. Instead, they gave him a job cleaning the school's toilets. And that is just wrong! Anyone can walk up and hit him, or scream horrible curses at him, and he just takes it because he has to survive. Can't we change it? Can't we make it so that boys like him can study in the academy just like us?"
The King's gentle, fatherly expression instantly vanished, replaced by a cold, hardened mask. His jaw clenched, and his eyes grew incredibly dark and serious
"That cannot happen, dear," he stated, his voice taking on the heavy, unyielding tone of a monarch rather than a father. "Our ancestors drew a strict, immovable boundary between them and us. A boundary that can never, ever be erased."
He looked down at her, his expression unusually stern. "And furthermore, mingling with them is entirely against our royal dignity. Starting tomorrow, you will not speak to that boy again. You will have absolutely no ties or relationship with him. Do you understand me?"
"But Dad—!" Isla started, sitting up quickly to protest.
But the King didn't wait to hear her argument. He stood up abruptly, turned his back on her, and walked straight out of the room, closing the heavy door firmly behind him.
Isla stared at the closed door, her mouth slightly open in pure disbelief.
'Everyone here just ignores you when they don't want to hear the truth,' she thought bitterly, falling back against her silk pillows. 'Just like a desperate debtor ignoring a loan shark after taking their money. They really are all incredibly stupid here.'
"They all are stupids".
She rubbed her tired eyes, a wave of profound, soul-crushing exhaustion washing over her. 'I am already so incredibly tired of this, and I'm only a child. How am I supposed to handle all the complex political garbage when I grow up? And what on earth am I going to do when those four murderous husbands finally show up?'
But one problem is that I never saw one of the husband .
Suddenly, her eyes snapped open in sheer, unadulterated panic.
'Wait a second...' she thought, her heart skipping a beat. 'I don't even remember what their faces look like! The novel only described their terrible personalities! I don't know where they are from, and I have absolutely no idea when they are supposed to appear in the timeline!'
She groaned loudly, pulling the heavy silk comforter entirely over her head to hide from the overwhelming stress.
'Okay, breathe, Isla. At least there is one good thing to hold onto... not absolutely everyone in this world is terrible. Mom and Dad love me, even if they are stubborn, elitist royals. And that boy, Dorian... there are still genuinely good people here.'
She let out a long, slow breath, letting the quiet darkness of the room slowly calm her racing, panicked thoughts.
'Alright, it is way too late to be plotting a social revolution or a survival strategy tonight. I need to get some sleep. If I don't, I am going to wake up tomorrow looking less like a serene princess and a lot more like an angry, sleep-deprived giant panda.'