By lunchtime, everyone knew.
By afternoon, everyone had opinions.
By evening, Mira Lawson was apparently engaged to the Crown Prince.
She learned this while trying to eat fries in peace.
Leo slid into the seat opposite her, phone in hand, eyes wide with delight. "So Congratulations on your fake relationship."
Mira choked. "What?"
Leo turned the phone toward her.
BREAKING: LUCKY STAR TO REPRESENT ARISTELLA ALONGSIDE CROWN PRINCE
Insiders confirm a new royal partnership amid scandal.
Mira stared at the screen. "That headline is lying."
Leo shrugged. "The subheadline says you're 'softening his image.'"
"I will soften nothing," Mira said flatly. "Especially not a prince."
Across the cafeteria, whispers rolled like waves.
"They're standing together tonight."
"I heard she's being trained."
"She doesn't even know proper etiquette."
"That's why it's exciting."
Mira slammed her tray down. "I hate this place."
Leo grinned. "Give it a chance. Forced proximity is my favorite trope."
"Don't say trope."
"Too late."
As if summoned by fate's worst sense of timing, a staff member approached.
"Miss Lawson," the woman said politely, "you're requested in the east hall. Immediately."
Mira sighed. "Of course I am."
The east hall was buzzing with quiet chaos, assistants rushing, cameras being set up, banners adjusted. It looked less like a school hallway and more like a press conference pretending to be casual.
And in the center of it all,
Prince Adrian Everhart.
He was dressed impeccably, as always, but something about him looked different. Less rigid. Less distant. More… alert.
His eyes lifted the moment Mira entered.
They locked.
The room seemed to pause.
"Why does this look like a crime scene?" Mira asked.
Adrian exhaled. "Because it is."
She walked up to him, stopping just short of his personal space. "I want it on record that I did not agree to this."
"And I want it on record," he replied, "that neither did I."
They stared at each other.
Then, annoyingly, they both almost smiled.
A woman with a clipboard clapped sharply. "Perfect! You're both here. We'll begin the briefing."
Mira squinted. "Briefing for what?"
"Your first joint appearance," the woman said brightly. "A welcome address for donors and the press. Ten minutes. Minimal interaction. Stand close. Smile."
Mira laughed. "No."
The woman blinked. "Excuse me?"
"No smiling. No standing close. And absolutely no pretending we like each other."
Adrian leaned in slightly. "We don't have to pretend," he murmured. "We just have to survive."
Mira shot him a look. "This is your fault."
His brow lifted. "You spilled the coffee."
"You exist."
Fair point.
They were guided onto a small stage set at the end of the hall. Cameras clicked immediately. The murmur of voices rose.
Mira felt it then, the weight.
Not fear.
Attention.
Heavy. Relentless. Hungry.
Adrian stepped closer, not touching, just near enough to create the illusion of unity.
"Breathe," he said quietly.
She snapped, "Don't tell me to breathe."
"I wasn't," he said. "I was reminding myself."
That startled her.
The Headmaster stepped forward and began speaking about unity, tradition, and opportunity. Mira barely heard a word.
All she could think about was how close Adrian was.
Too close.
Too aware.
A reporter raised a hand. "Your Highness, does this partnership signify a personal bond?"
Mira stiffened.
Adrian didn't hesitate. "It signifies cooperation."
Mira glanced at him.
Another reporter called out, "Miss Lawson, how do you feel representing the academy alongside the prince?"
Mira stepped forward before Adrian could stop her.
"I feel," she said clearly, "like I'm here to be myself. Not a symbol. Not a rumor. Just… me."
The crowd murmured.
Adrian turned, surprised.
She continued, "If that makes people uncomfortable, that's not my problem."
A beat.
Then, unexpected applause.
Not loud.
But real.
Adrian leaned toward her. "That was…bold."
"I warned you," she muttered. "I don't polish well."
The event ended in controlled chaos. As they were escorted away, Mira's adrenaline finally drained.
Her hands were shaking.
Adrian noticed.
Without thinking, he said, "You did well."
She scoffed. "Don't patronize me."
"I'm not," he replied. "You didn't bend."
She looked at him then.
Really looked.
And for the first time, she didn't see just a prince.
She saw someone equally trapped.
"This changes nothing," she said quietly.
"I know," he answered.
But neither of them believed it.
As they walked down the hall together, side by side, unwilling allies, phones buzzed, cameras followed, and Aristella watched with fascination.
The forced partnership had begun.
And it was already dangerous.