The following morning, as Isla meticulously prepared for another grueling day at the royal academy, her mind was entirely preoccupied with thoughts of Dorian.
'He looked so utterly heartbroken yesterday,' she thought, her small brow furrowing in deep guilt as the maids brushed her hair. 'Perhaps my harsh words wounded him far more deeply than I intended. I really need to find him and apologize.'
She paused, remembering the heavy, threatening tone her father had used the night before. 'Papa strictly forbade me from going anywhere near him. But... Papa was also the one who taught me that if my actions ever hurt an innocent person, it is my royal duty to make amends. Yes, that makes perfect sense. I will just apologize, and then I will never speak to him again.'
However, when she finally arrived at the bustling academy, the familiar, quiet boy with the mop and bucket was absolutely nowhere to be found.
A heavy, unsettling feeling began to knot in her stomach. Desperate for answers, she reluctantly approached the cruel, mustache-wearing supervisor who had berated Dorian the day before.
"Dorian?" the supervisor grunted, his face twisting into a scowl of deep annoyance.
"That foolish commoner was bitten by a highly venomous snake while clearing out the thick brush near the gardens yesterday evening. The venom spread through his bloodstream almost instantly. The healers managed to extract some of it, but he is still completely unconscious and burning with a terrible fever. They say it will be an absolute miracle if the boy survives the week."
The world seemed to tilt on its axis. Isla felt the breath completely leave her lungs.
"But why are you asking about that worthless commoner, Princess Isla?" the supervisor continued, his eyes suddenly narrowing with suspicious sycophancy. "Did he do something to bother you? Did he dare to disrespect Your Highness? Just say the word, Princess, and I will personally drag his parents before the magistrate and have his entire wretched family banished from the kingdom immediately!"
Isla's small hands trembled, her eyes welling with thick, hot tears that she fiercely tried to blink away. "No," she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of a sudden, suffocating grief. "He didn't do anything wrong. Leave his family alone."
Without waiting for his response, she turned and practically ran down the corridor. Before this very moment, she had never truly felt such a profound, aching empathy for anyone in this strange, cruel world. Dorian was just a sweet, innocent boy—perhaps a bit too foolish and submissive for his own good, but his heart was pure.
'If only I could have done something to protect him,' she thought mournfully, wiping her wet cheeks as she pushed open the heavy oak doors to her classroom.
The room was already buzzing with the chatter of young nobles, but a sudden hush fell over the students as the professor clapped his hands for attention.
"Good morning, everyone," the professor announced, gesturing to a figure standing in the shadows by the door. "Today, I have the distinct honor of introducing a very special transfer student to our academy.
He is the esteemed prince of our neighboring tiger kingdom, and from this day forward, he will be joining your studies. Please welcome Prince Lucier."
The moment the boy stepped into the light, Isla felt her blood run entirely cold.
She recognized him instantly. He was one of them. The first of the four treacherous, psychopathic husbands destined to slit her throat.
Without missing a beat, Isla crossed her arms and let out a loud, highly sarcastic scoff. "What, did his kingdom run out of funds to build their own schools? Why on earth did he have to come all the way over here to learn how to read?"
The entire classroom erupted into a chorus of shocked gasps, followed quickly by muffled, nervous giggles.
"Isla! Silence this instant!" the professor barked, his face turning pale with horror.
"How dare you speak to our royal guest with such insolence? I am so incredibly sorry, Prince Lucier. Please, accept my deepest apologies on behalf of her lack of manners."
Prince Lucier stepped fully into the room, and Isla immediately wanted to gag.
He had shockingly bright blue hair and matching, piercing blue eyes. He stood with one hand tucked elegantly behind his back, while his right hand held a single, deeply cliché red rose. Worse than his arrogant posture, however, was the absolutely suffocating, aggressively strong cologne that wafted off him in invisible, noxious clouds—a scent that immediately assaulted Isla's sensitive nose.
Lucier offered a perfectly practiced, impossibly arrogant smirk. "It is quite alright, Professor. The poor girl is merely naive. She simply doesn't know who I am yet. I assure you, once she spends a little time getting to know me, she will be absolutely obsessed with me."
'Obsessed? With you?!' Isla's internal monologue practically shrieked. 'You are the absolute definition of cringe!' She rolled her eyes so hard they nearly stuck in the back of her head.
"Very generous of you, Your Highness," the professor sighed in relief. "Please, take any open seat you prefer."
'Sit anywhere, literally anywhere in this room, just do not sit next to me,' Isla prayed desperately, sinking lower into her chair and crossing her arms defensively.
But, as if the universe was actively conspiring against her, Lucier flashed a blinding, sickeningly sweet smile and glided smoothly over to the empty desk right beside hers. Isla instantly shot a pleading, furious glare at the professor, silently begging to be moved, but the professor merely shot her a stern warning look that explicitly commanded her to behave.
Trapped, Isla was forced to endure the agonizing proximity. The longer Lucier sat there, the more his overwhelmingly pungent, floral perfume invaded her personal space, churning her already upset stomach.
Lucier leaned over, his blue eyes sparkling with unearned confidence. "You know, you are quite exceptionally beautiful," he murmured smoothly. "Tell me, what do you think of me so far?"
Isla opened her mouth, fully intending to unleash a scathing, ego-destroying insult. But the moment she inhaled to speak, the sickening combination of her intense emotional distress over Dorian, her sheer disgust for the boy destined to murder her, and the suffocatingly toxic fumes of his cheap cologne reached an absolute breaking point.
Her stomach violently rebelled.
Without a single second of warning, Isla leaned forward and violently projectile vomited all over Prince Lucier's pristine, custom-tailored royal uniform.
"What the hell?!" Lucier shrieked, his perfectly crafted aristocratic composure shattering into a million pieces as he jumped backward, his chair clattering to the floor. "Eww! Gross! What is wrong with you?! How dare you throw up on me! If you didn't want to compliment me, you could have just said so! You didn't have to vomit!"
The professor rushed over, his face contorting in pure disgust as he took in the horrible scene. "Oh, good heavens! Lucier, what a disaster! Princess Isla, what is the meaning of this?! Can someone please help clean His Highness?" The professor visibly gagged. "Eww... I... I will go fetch a janitor immediately!" He practically sprinted out of the room.
Isla slowly stood up, retrieving her silk handkerchief to delicately dab the corners of her mouth. Her face was a mask of pure, unbothered attitude. She didn't even grant Lucier the dignity of making eye contact.
"Sorry," she said flatly, her tone completely devoid of actual remorse. "I really didn't do it on purpose. But you did ask what I thought of you. I suppose that was just God's honest answer bubbling up.
Looking at you literally makes me sick to my stomach, you absolute cringe boy."
With that devastating final word, she turned on her heel and gracefully marched out of the chaotic classroom.
"This vomit will cost you dearly, Isla!" Lucier bellowed furiously after her, his face completely red with humiliating rage. "Just you wait and see! You will pay for this! Eww... seriously, someone get this off me! I am a Prince, for heaven's sake!"
Standing safely hidden around the corner of the hallway, Isla peeked back at the classroom. A dark, delightfully villainous smile stretched across her lips.
'This is only the very beginning, Lucier,' she thought, a thrilling sense of vindication rushing through her veins. 'Just wait and see what I have planned for you next.'
But as she walked away from the chaos, her wicked smile slowly faltered, replaced by a heavy, anxious frown.
'Dorian...' she worried, her heart aching for the boy fighting for his life in a cold infirmary bed. 'How is he holding up? I don't care what dad said... I have to go see him.'