Retaliation never came loudly.
It came precisely.
Mira felt it before she saw it.
The academy woke differently the morning after Adrian's declaration, too polished, too controlled, like a smile held too long. The halls were quieter, but not calmer. People avoided eye contact. Conversations stopped mid-sentence when she passed.
This wasn't fear.
It was strategy.
Mira dressed slowly, deliberately, staring at her reflection in the tall mirror of her room in the royal wing. She didn't look like a revolutionary. She looked like the same girl who had spilled coffee and refused to bow.
And yet,
The system had noticed her.
That thought settled deep in her chest, heavy and real.
A knock came at her door.
Three sharp taps.
"Mira."
Adrian's voice.
She opened it immediately.
He looked tired.
Not physically, he was always impeccably composed, but the strain was visible now. The effortless authority he carried had sharpened into something more dangerous. Purpose.
