Chapter 24 Liora Mia didn't ask questions, and maybe that's what made her company feel like a relief instead of another reminder. She didn't press. I liked that about her. She didn't fill the silence with nervous chatter or hollow sympathy. She simply stayed nearby, existing beside me with a kind of calm that wrapped around my raw edges like a soft blanket. Her presence was quiet, but never distant. Warm, but never invasive. She sat by the windowsill, her legs folded beneath her, textbook balanced on her knees as she read in the breeze. The sound of her pencil scratching gently against the notebook paper helped me breathe. I didn't realize how much I needed that. After everything that had happened, after the look in Callum's eyes, the sound of his voice so void of meaning, I had expected the weight of it all to crush me. But strangely, I didn't feel crushed. Not now, at least. Maybe something inside me had already broken before I even reached that courtyard. Maybe him finally saying that had simply confirmed what I'd already known but refused to accept. I wasn't his choice. And that truth, while cruel, had finally set me free. The sun peaked over the treetops, casting long pale streaks across the floorboards, when my mindlink popped into my head and ear. I straightened slightly, glancing once at Mia, who simply looked up and offered me a soft smile before returning to her homework. She 1/3 Chapter 24 understood without asking. I rose and moved to the far end of the room, tilting my head. "Yes?" I said, not bothering to hide my exhaustion. +15 BONUS My father's voice filled my head, amused and low, but now with a touch of worry. "You sound like someone who hasn't been sleeping well." I leaned against the wall, folding my arms. "Yeah well... you already know the deets." There was a pause, one of those long ones where he pretended to be thinking but was likely just waiting for me to say more. When I didn't, he spoke again. "You're complication on campus, the rather dramatic one, you sure you don't want to talk about it?" It was odd when he tried to be a 'Dad', and not an Alpha King. Sympathy didn't suit his tone. "That's a nice way to phrase it," I replied, the words tasting bitter. "You know, could have warned me she was going to be here." "I didn't know. But now I do. And more importantly, so do you." "A distant, distant, relative, huh? It makes sense why she could open the castle doors then." I tilted my head back and let my eyes drift toward the ceiling. "Yes," he said, and the words held no surprise. "Just enough to trigger the castle's recognition." "So the doors responded to her, but that doesn't make her rightful. It just makes her convenient." I was surprised how bitter I sounded. "Exactly. A convenient puppet with the right lineage on paper. But paper is fragile. It burns easily." The edge in his tone wasn't unfamiliar, and for once, it didn't feel cruel. It felt like permission. A kind of unspoken approval I hadn't even realized I wanted. 2/3 My foot tapped the floor. "You didn't call just to gossip, did you?" He chuckled softly. "No. I wanted to check in. And to remind you're still free to live how you at there without anyone knowing your real name, your title, or the responsibilities that them for the time being." was the point, wasn't it?" I said quietly, not sure what he was getting at. "To enjoy a taste of life without being measured by it." His tone softened. "You've earned that much." There was another pause, but this one felt heavier, more deliberate. "So you deserve to use it. Even if it didn't go how you wanted." I closed my eyes, letting the silence speak over my thoughts. "About Bianca," he asked after a moment, his voice lower now, more careful. "Do you want me to intervene?" I shook my head even though he couldn't see me. "No. If I need help, I'll ask. But I don't want her destroyed for me. I want to do it myself." He didn't hesitate, "Atta girl." He ended the mindlink without another word, trusting me to carry the rest on my own. I stayed there for a long while, standing in the quiet, my hands resting at my sides, the lingering weight of the conversation not heavy, but solid. Something to mull over. When I returned to my desk, Mia looked up again, brows raised just enough to ask without saying anything. "I'm fine," I said, sitting beside her. "I just needed to remember who I am." She smiled, the kind that didn't pity, just accepted. 3/3