CHAPTER 269: COMPLICATIONS [2]

Alaric entered the classroom and immediately noticed her.

Verelia sat in her usual spot by the window, posture perfect, expression neutral. Her hair pulled back in its customary style. She wore her uniform with the same precision as always.

But something was different.

Not in her appearance. In the air around her.

An additional layer of cold distance, like she’d added another wall between herself and the world.

This was her first day back in classes since the election.

Other students noticed too. Some shot glances her way, curious, pitying, or smugly satisfied depending on their candidate preference. A few whispered behind hands.

Verelia ignored them all. She opened her textbook to the correct page and waited for the lecture to begin, her eyes were fixed forward with glacial disinterest.

Professor Aldric entered and began his lecture.

Throughout the class, Verelia took notes with mechanical precision. Answered when called upon with her usual competence. Participated in the practical demonstration flawlessly.

To anyone who didn’t know her, she appeared completely unaffected by recent events.

But Alaric noticed the subtle signs. The way her hand gripped her quill slightly too tight. The rigid set of her shoulders. The fact that she hadn’t looked up from her notes even once except when directly addressed.

She was holding herself together through sheer force of will.

That’s not good. My girl shouldn’t be worried for these trivial matters... My girl?

He blinked. Well, technically she’s but... Urgh! Fuck!

He shook his head.

Focus Alaric focus, you need her functional. She’s a great asset.

The lecture concluded. Students began packing their materials, conversations erupting about the upcoming practical exams.

Verelia stood, gathered her things with efficient movements, and headed for the door.

Alaric caught up to her in the corridor outside.

"Verelia."

She stopped but didn’t turn immediately. When she did, her expression was its usual neutral mask. "Alaric?"

"Are you alright?"

"Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?"

"The election—"

"Is over. I lost. There’s nothing more to discuss about it." Her tone was flat, matter-of-fact. "Was there something else you needed?"

Alaric studied her for a moment. She met his gaze without flinching, that ice-princess composure firmly in place.

"Have you eaten?" he asked.

She blinked, clearly not expecting that question. "I had lunch earlier."

"I meant dinner. It’s nearly evening."

"I was planning to return to my room."

"Then come with me."

Verelia’s expression didn’t change, but something flickered in her eyes. "Why?"

"Because sitting alone in your room analyzing what went wrong isn’t productive."

Alaric gestured down the corridor. "And because I’m asking."

"That’s not a compelling reason."

"Then consider it repayment. You let me help with your campaign. Now let me help with this."

"There’s nothing to help with. I’m fine."

His eyes twitched.

Stop being so stubborn, stupid girl.

"Verelia." he spoke in a quiet but firm voice. "You’re many things. A terrible liar isn’t one of them. Don’t start now."

She was silent for a long moment, her jaw tightening fractionally. Then, surprisingly, she sighed.

"Fine. But only briefly. I have work to complete."

"Of course you do."

And she began following him.

-----

He didn’t take her to the dining hall. Too public, too many watching eyes and whispered conversations.

Instead, he led her to a quieter section of the Academy gardens, a small pavilion overlooking one of the ornamental ponds. Essence lamps provided soft illumination as twilight settled over the campus.

"Sit," Alaric said, gesturing to one of the benches.

Verelia sat with perfect posture, hands folded in her lap. "This is where you plan to ’help’? By making me sit outside?"

"By shutting your brain up for ten minutes."

"Impossible. The—"

"Verelia." He sat beside her, not too close, maintaining appropriate distance. "Tell me something that has nothing to do with academics, politics, or competence."

She looked at him like he’d spoken a foreign language. "Why?"

"Because I’m curious." He started, to get her mind out of whatever hell hole she had sink into after that loss.

She was a daughter of one of the strongest dukes. And also, one of his important political allies, which he definitely doesn’t want to lose.

"And because you need to remember you’re a person, not just a walking resume."

"I know I’m a person."

"Do you? When was the last time you did something just because you wanted to, not because it advanced some goal?"

Verelia opened her mouth to respond, then closed it. Her brow furrowed slightly.

"That’s... an irrelevant question."

"Is it?"

"Yes. Everything we do should have purpose. Random actions waste time and energy."

"And yet here you are, sitting in a garden with me, accomplishing nothing strategic." Alaric leaned back slightly. "Almost like you’re capable of existing outside your carefully constructed framework."

"You asked me to come. I’m fulfilling a social obligation."

"You could have said no."

"It would have been rude."

"Since when do you care about being rude?"

That actually made her pause. Her fingers tightened around each other. "I... nobles have certain expectations. Etiquette must be maintained."

Which made him smile internally.

"Interesting deflection." He turned slightly to face her more directly. "But you’re avoiding the question. When was the last time you did something just for yourself?"

Verelia was quiet for a long moment, staring at the pond. The water reflected the lamps, creating patterns of light and shadow.

"I don’t remember," she said finally, her voice quieter than usual.

"That’s what I thought."

"And what does that prove? That I’m focused? Disciplined? Those aren’t flaws."

"No. But they become flaws when they’re all you are." Alaric’s voice softened.

"You lost the election, Verelia. And yes, that’s disappointing. But it’s not the end of the world. You’re still the most competent first-year in Silver Crown. You’re still going to succeed at whatever you set your mind to. One setback doesn’t define you."

"It revealed my weaknesses."

"It revealed you’re human. There’s a difference."

She finally looked at him, her blue eyes searching his face. "Why do you care? Our agreement is void. I can’t help you break the marriage contract now."

"Maybe I care because you’re more than just a transaction." He held her gaze steadily. "Novel concept, I know."

Something flickered in her expression, confusion, maybe suspicion. "You’re being unusually... personable."

"Am I?"

"Yes. It’s disconcerting."

"Good. You need disconcerting right now."

Before she could respond, Alaric stood and extended his hand. "Come on."

She stared at his hand. "Where?"

"Stop asking, just come."

"That’s not an answer."

"Trust me."

"I don’t trust easily."

"I’ve noticed." He kept his hand extended, waiting. "But you came here anyway. So clearly some part of you is willing to try."

Verelia looked at his hand for a long moment. Then, with obvious reluctance, she took it and stood.

He didn’t release her hand immediately, instead lead her down one of the garden paths toward a section she likely hadn’t explored, more wild, less manicured, with flowering vines climbing over archways.

"This is still the Academy gardens," Verelia observed.

"Excellent spatial awareness."

"I don’t see the point of—"

"That’s because you’re trying to find a point instead of just experiencing something."

Alaric stopped under one of the vine-covered archways. Small luminescent flowers glowed softly in the gathering darkness.

Verelia looked up at them, her expression unchanged but her eyes tracking the gentle light. "Lumina stellaris. They bloom in response to essence density. Someone’s maintaining them well."

"Can you look at something beautiful without analyzing it?"

"Why would I? Understanding enhances appreciation."

"Does it? Or does it prevent you from just... feeling?"

She looked at him then, "You’re being very philosophical for someone who spent two weeks helping me destroy political opponents."

"I contain multitudes." He smiled slightly. "Besides, destroying opponents is easier than dealing with defeated allies. This requires more creativity."

"I’m not defeated."

"No. You’re just telling yourself you are." Before she could protest, he continued. "You lost one election, Verelia. One. You’re a first-year who challenged third and fourth-years and came close enough to scare them. That’s not defeat. That’s a statement."

"It’s a failed statement."

"It’s a foundation." Alaric stepped closer, just slightly. "Next year, you run again. With more experience, more connections, more proof of capability. And you win. Unless you spend this entire year sulking about one loss instead of building toward the next attempt."

Verelia was quiet, her jaw set. "I don’t sulk."

"Then stop acting like your entire worth was determined by this one outcome."

"Easy for you to say. You weren’t the one publicly rejected by—"

"I was a king who lost his entire kingdom and died in a crumbling room." The words came out before he could stop them.

Verelia’s eyes widened fractionally. "What?"

Alaric blinked, realizing what he’d said.

Shit.