The chamber was colder than Alena remembered.
She stepped inside, hands clasped tightly in front of her, her breath steady but shallow.
Count Veron stood behind his desk, a familiar figure of stoic authority, but this time—he wasn't alone.
Beside him, seated in a high-backed chair of crimson velvet, was Lady Velindra Greenal.
Her silver hair was coiled into an intricate braid, gleaming under the warm candlelight. Her eyes, the same icy hue as her brother the king's, held the sharp gleam of a blade sheathed in silk.
She looked at Alena without expression. Not hatred this time—but curiosity. Like one might look at a strange creature that had wandered into their garden.
Alena bowed her head. "My lord. My lady."
Veron did not make her wait.
"I've made my decision."
Alena held her breath.
"He may attend Valeon Academy."
Her heart jumped—but froze as he continued.
"Under one condition."
Velindra folded her hands neatly in her lap. She was watching this closely.
Veron's voice was calm, clipped. "He will enter as a servant student. A title rarely used, but recognized by the Academy. He will not wear the Greenal name. He will have no special treatment. No protection. No acknowledgment of his heritage."
Alena's chest tightened.
"If he fails," Veron continued, "he will be dismissed from this house entirely. No title. No place. Nothing."
Velindra raised a brow slightly, glancing toward Veron. "You would even risk that much for a child with no mana?"
"I'm not risking anything," Veron replied. "If the boy truly has strength, let the world test it."
His gaze shifted to Alena.
"This is what you wanted."
Alena swallowed hard. "And if he succeeds?"
Veron was silent.
Then, a faint curve touched his lips—a smirk that didn't reach his eyes.
"Then we'll speak again."
Velindra stood. Her heels clicked softly on the floor as she approached Alena. Their eyes met.
"I hope, for your sake, he's more than a pretty dream," she said softly. "Because the Academy does not nurture the weak. It devours them."
She swept past and out the door, her perfume lingering like the threat in her voice.
Veron returned to his seat and poured himself a glass of wine. "That is all. You may go."
Alena bowed, heart racing, and left the chamber. The moment the doors closed behind her, tears welled in her eyes—not of fear, but of fierce pride.
He has a chance.
A real one.
But now… everything was at stake.