Chapter 7

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Zane

Zane barely made it out of the rec hall's locker wing before he spotted them.

Lila, arms crossed, leaning against the wall like she had all the time in the world—and none of the patience to waste it. She wore her usual black vest and slate-gray stare, the kind of calm that could either hand you a cup of tea or knock you flat, and you wouldn't know which until it happened.

Jordan, meanwhile, was spinning in slow circles beneath the flickering overhead crystals, wide-eyed and grinning like a tourist dropped into a budget magic carnival.

"Zane!" he called, loud enough to draw looks. "This place is awesome! You didn't tell me they had floating mats! And—and glowing rope loops! And… is that cracked stone pretending to be dragonbone?!"

Zane groaned. "It's not dragonbone."

Jordan blinked. "Wait. So I've been lying to people?"

Zane dropped his gear bag to the floor, already tired. "You weren't supposed to be here until later."

"We got in early," Lila said flatly. "He bribed the driver with mana candy."

Jordan beamed. "Three packs of Emberfruit. No regrets."

Zane shook his head. "You're going to get us banned from guest access for life."

"Only if someone finds out," Jordan said brightly, then immediately turned to the open training floor. "Can I watch class? I promise I'll be quiet. Ish. Mostly. If no one does anything cool."

"No kinetic ropes," Zane warned.

"Not even to touch?"

"Especially not to touch."

Lila stepped closer and gave him a long, measuring look. She reached up and touched his forehead.

Eva: Such a good sister-in-law. So worried about her brother.

Zane ignored Eva.

"You're running hot," Lila said softly, oblivious to the conversation in his head.

"I'm fine."

"You're tired."

Zane didn't argue.

"You look different," she added. "More... noticed."

Zane grimaced. "Yeah, that's the problem."

They moved toward the rear benches, Jordan half-jogging ahead before vaulting onto the third row and pulling out a snack bar. His legs swung with anticipation, mana-sensor band flickering on his wrist as he tracked the sparring matches like they were championship bouts.

"This is so much better than tournament recordings," he muttered. "These are real people. And they don't suck."

Zane was about to ask him to be quiet when he noticed Jordan freeze.

His brother didn't even blink.

"…Jordan?"

Nothing.

Zane followed his gaze—and instantly regretted it.

She had just walked in through the main entrance.

Aurelia Vael Taranis.

Hair like woven silver thread, glinting under the high enchantment lights. Her uniform crisp, flawlessly tailored, trimmed in imperial violet. Her posture was all starlight elegance and quiet steel. She didn't walk so much as glide—like the floor knew better than to get in her way.

Jordan inhaled like someone had just stepped out of a dream and into real life.

"That's—" he whispered.

"I know," Zane said, already feeling his soul leave his body. He recognized her. How could he not? Her silver hair was a dead giveaway—even if she was trying to come incognito.

"Oh my gods," Jordan breathed. "That's her. That's actually her."

Zane gave him a sideways glance. "You know her?"

Jordan turned, eyes wide and reverent.

"I have her calendar. The calendar. The limited edition House of Taranis Honor Series. I had to enter a queue spell just to order it. She did a Solstrike Blades ad and the Imperial Foundry gala for orphaned familiars. She's literally the face of three combat technique streams—and she's been on the cover of Mageblood Weekly. Twice."

Zane blinked.

"She's on your wall? Wait—where did you get money for a calendar?"

"She's on the ceiling," Jordan corrected. "My bedroom runs an enchantment loop that cycles her into the constellations at night."

Lila looked up from her datapad. "You're terrifying."

"I'm invested," Jordan whispered.

"She's just a person," Zane said. Weakly. Uselessly.

Jordan looked at him like he'd insulted the moon.

"She's so much prettier in person," he said.

Zane knew that look. Knew that gleam in Jordan's eye.

"Jordan," he said slowly. "Whatever you're thinking—"

Too late.

Jordan was already moving.

Zane barely had time to process the words "Lady Aurelia" before Jordan was marching toward her like a soldier on a diplomatic mission.

Zane groaned under his breath. He'd dealt with bandits. He'd faced down mutated mana-beasts in back-alley realms. But nothing—nothing—prepared him for his thirteen-year-old brother operating at full fangirl throttle.

"Jordan," Zane hissed. "Come back here. Right now."

Too late.

Jordan stopped two feet in front of Aurelia Vael Taranis, gave a shaky half-bow, and blurted at lightspeed:

"You're even prettier in person, and your duel with the Sky Blade was flawless, and your flight-based mana control is the coolest thing I've ever seen, and—I think I might love you and we should date."

Zane almost choked.

"Jordan—" he hissed, stepping in, but Aurelia raised a hand—smiling, not at all offended.

She crouched slightly to meet Jordan's eye, her silver hair catching the light like a spill of moonlight over her shoulder.

"A bold little one, aren't you? I appreciate the offer," she said, voice warm and teasing, "but I'm sorry. I like someone already."

Jordan blinked, crestfallen for half a heartbeat.

"And," she added, lips curling a bit more, "you're probably a bit young for me."

Jordan opened his mouth to object, but she wasn't finished.

"And… you'd have to ask my dad for permission."

Aurelia leaned in, mock-conspiratorial. "He's very scary."

Jordan didn't miss a beat.

He puffed out his chest like a tiny general on a battlefield. "Nothing shall be an obstacle to our love," he declared.

Aurelia laughed—light, surprised, genuine. "Spoken like a true romantic."

"I train daily," Jordan said solemnly. "Mostly."

"Mostly?"

He considered. "Some days I nap heroically."

Zane covered his face. "I don't know him. Never seen him before in my life."

"I like him," Aurelia said softly.

Zane looked up—and found her gaze already waiting.

"You're Zane, right?" she asked.

Her voice was smooth, poised—but there was a catch at the end, just the smallest hitch. "I recognized you from class."

Zane blinked.

She extended her hand.

For a second, he just stared at it. Not out of disrespect—but because his brain didn't quite compute what was happening.

He wasn't used to people like her extending hands.

Especially not toward people like him.

Still, he took it. Her grip was firm, her fingers cool—elegant, but faintly calloused at the palm. Real.

When she let go, she blushed.

Just a quick flush across her cheeks.

She looked away—just for a moment.

Zane's internal alarms blared.

What the hell is happening right now?

"I've never actually met anyone in the civilian combat arts program," she said, suddenly very interested in the air to his left. "It's pretty cool that you teach here. I've been looking for chances to—uh—volunteer."

Zane snorted. "You start coming here regularly, there's gonna be standing room only."

She laughed. A little too loud. A little too fast. "Yeah. I would love to join your class though. Well..fame and all that. Sucks sometimes."

He studied her for a beat.

"Aren't you, like… close to being a princess? Can princesses say sucks?"

Aurelia blinked.

Then smirked. "I'm technically twelfth in line to inherit a title no one's used in three hundred years. We're a branch of the current royal family—Princess Persephone is like my seventeenth cousin once removed. So no, I don't think I'll be a princess anytime soon."

She shrugged. "So yes. I think I can say sucks."

Zane raised an eyebrow. "So you're princess-adjacent. That sounds uncomfortable."

"Honorary footnote in an outdated bloodline, more like."

"I don't know. Sounds pretty princess-y to me. Prehaps I should cursty."

She tilted her head. "Would it help if I said sucks again?"

Zane fought a grin. Lost. "Maybe."

"Then yeah." She tucked a loose strand of silver hair behind her ear. "It sucks."

They stood there for a beat—him still holding the echo of her touch, her still pretending to be fascinated by the far wall.

He studied her and watched her ears go red.

It was adorable.

This was a wild conversation. With Aurelia Vael Taranis.

She didn't seem like the cold-blooded ice queen everyone talked endlessly about. She was even different from the girl who had walked into their lecture hall earlier that day.

Maybe that was never the real her.

Her replacement stood here instead—more human. Curious. Awkward, even.

Jordan, of course, ruined the moment.

"Can I train with you too?" he asked, staring up at her like she was the chosen one in some ancient prophecy. "I have a beginner license!"

Aurelia laughed again—softer, but just as real. "I think your brother might need a better assistant if he keeps collecting students."

"I'm very coachable," Jordan said solemnly.

"Stop talking," Zane muttered.

Lila had walked in by now too, arms crossed, eyeing the interaction with sharp suspicion—clearly ready to throw her shoe at someone if this turned weird.

Zane exhaled and turned back to Aurelia.

"I heard the manager talking. Thanks for the donation," he said quietly. "The center really needed it."

Aurelia's smile returned, smaller this time. "It's not just charity if I get to watch something interesting."

Zane raised an eyebrow. "You came to watch the class?"

"I did," she said. "And I wasn't disappointed."

Her tone shifted on the last word—not mocking, but meaningful. She let it linger.

Then she nodded once.

"Thank you for the show—and the introduction," she added with a flash of dry humor. "I'll try not to make it awkward next time. Don't you dare ignore me in class."

She turned before he could reply and walked toward the exit, one of the volunteers scrambling to hold the door open for her.

Zane just stood there.

Jordan nudged his side. "Are you blushing?"

"No."

"I think she likes you."

"She doesn't even know me."

Jordan smirked. "She shook your hand."

"Jordan—"

"She blushed too. Brother, I might have to challenge you to a duel if you try to steal my woman. I am a man of honor."

Zane karate-chopped him on the top of the head.

Jordan winced.

Zane turned and stared at the door she'd just walked through, her presence still humming faintly in the air—like distant lightning.

He was still trying to understand the interaction.