He had sensed the shift in her aura.
"Well done, boys," Roan murmured to himself, pushing off the railing. "You bought her a few minutes of peace."
He turned and walked toward the faculty wing, his long legs eating up the distance, his black eyes practically glowing with chaotic anticipation.
'The Archduke gave me one job,' Roan plotted, his mind already weaving a web of academic destruction, blackmail, and curriculum overhauls. 'Keep her safe, and don't let the snobs ruin her edge.'
Roan chuckled, the sound echoing ominously down the pristine marble hallway.
The Imperial Academy was designed to break the spirits of the young, to mold them into compliant, predictable political pawns for the Emperor. It was a factory of tradition and suffocating rules.
But the Academy had never faced a dual-assault from a Supreme Archmage operating a shadow-syndicate, and a six-year-old girl armed with an army of ghost-ducks and two fire-wielding bodyguards.
