Aristella didn't announce the vote.
It leaked.
By breakfast, it was everywhere, passed notes, whispered hallways, half-hidden screens glowing with speculation. By midmorning, the academy felt like a courtroom that had already decided it wanted blood.
Mira found out the official way when a white envelope appeared on her desk.
No name.
No greeting.
Just a crest stamped in gold.
She didn't open it right away.
Leo did.
"Wow," he said softly. "They really went full dramatic."
Mira reached for the letter. Inside, the words were clean and cruel.
A council vote will be held to determine the continuation of Mira Lawson's status as the Lucky Star of Aristella Institute. Attendance is mandatory.
She folded the letter once. Twice. Set it down.
"That's it?" she said. "They don't even say what I did."
Leo swallowed. "They don't need to."
Across the room, eyes tracked her movements. Some students looked away when she met their gaze. Others watched openly, curious, eager, afraid.
A hand brushed her sleeve.
She turned.
Adrian stood there, face composed, eyes sharp with concern he wasn't bothering to hide.
"They scheduled it for tonight," he said quietly. "The Grand Hall."
Mira exhaled. "Of course they did."
"They want an audience."
"Then they'll get one," she said. "I'm not hiding."
Adrian hesitated. "This isn't a debate you can win by being stubborn."
She looked at him. "You're saying I should apologize."
"I'm saying you should survive."
Mira's jaw set. "Same thing here."
He held her gaze, frustration warring with something deeper. "They're not voting on your actions. They're voting on whether they can tolerate you."
"Then they should've learned sooner," she said. "I'm not tolerable."
Leo snorted despite himself.
The hours crawled.
Classes blurred. Meals went untouched. By the time the bells rang for evening assembly, the academy had turned electric, students streaming toward the Grand Hall in waves of silk and whispers.
The Hall was massive, vaulted ceilings catching candlelight like stars. Rows of seats filled quickly. The council, nobles, donors, alumni, sat elevated at the front, faces impassive.
Mira walked in alone.
She felt it then, the weight of a hundred judgments pressing down. She squared her shoulders and kept walking.
Adrian stood when he saw her.
So did Leo.
A ripple followed, some students standing, others staying seated, a visible line forming through the room.
Seraphina watched from the front row, hands folded, lips curved in a polite smile that didn't reach her eyes.
The Headmaster struck the gavel. "This assembly will come to order."
Silence fell.
"We convene to determine whether Miss Mira Lawson's conduct aligns with the values of Aristella Institute."
Mira raised a hand. "Can I speak?"
Murmurs erupted.
The Headmaster studied her, then nodded. "Briefly."
Mira stepped forward. Her voice carried farther than she expected.
"I didn't come here to cause trouble," she said. "I came because I was chosen. Like you said. I didn't ask for cameras or crowns or expectations I didn't agree to."
She paused, eyes sweeping the room.
"But I won't pretend to be smaller to make anyone comfortable. I won't apologize for standing up when someone talks down to me. If that's against your values, then say it."
A hush.
She finished, softer now. "Just don't call it tradition. Call it fear."
A beat.
Then a single clap echoed.
Leo.
Another followed.
Then another.
Not many, but enough.
The Headmaster lifted a hand. "Thank you, Miss Lawson."
She turned to the council. "We will proceed to the vote."
"Wait," Adrian said.
Every head snapped toward him.
He stepped forward, voice steady. "If this vote determines whether someone belongs here, then include me."
Gasps rippled.
Seraphina stood. "Your Highness, "
"I will speak," Adrian cut in.
He faced the hall. "Aristella prides itself on shaping leaders. Leaders are tested, not sheltered. Miss Lawson challenged me. And she was right to."
Mira stared.
Adrian continued, "If honesty and courage are liabilities here, then the institution has failed, not her."
The hall buzzed, louder now.
The Headmaster hesitated, then nodded to the council. "The vote will proceed."
Lights dimmed. Screens lit.
Mira's name glowed at the center.
Votes began to tally.
Yes.
No.
Yes.
No.
Her pulse thundered.
Leo squeezed her hand. "Whatever happens, "
She squeezed back. "I know."
The count slowed.
The final number flickered.
The hall held its breath.
The Headmaster rose.
"The council's decision is, "
And the lights cut out.
Gasps. Shouts. Confusion.
Emergency lamps flared on as guards moved.
In the chaos, Mira felt a hand find hers, steady, warm.
Adrian's.
"Stay with me," he said.
She looked up at him, heart racing.
"Always was," she replied.
Somewhere in the darkness, the academy's future tilted, waiting for the lights to come back on.