The day passed strangely, the way days do when you’re waiting for something and can’t quite make yourself present for anything else.
Elian tried to focus during Vale’s theory lecture and mostly succeeded in staring at the same paragraph of his notes for the better part of ten minutes without absorbing a single word of it.
He caught himself checking the position of the sun through the window more than once, doing rough math on how many hours were left, and then immediately regretting doing the math, because the number kept getting smaller in a way that felt personal.
Training didn’t go much better.
He fumbled a convergence spell he’d had solid for weeks now, the fire and water arguing again like they’d sensed his distraction and decided to take advantage of it.
His master didn’t comment, which was somehow worse than if she had—just raised an eyebrow, made a note of something, and moved on to Darrow instead.
It was somewhere around midday that Elian noticed the elephant in the room.
Oizys wasn’t at lunch.
She wasn’t in the courtyard afterward either, where she usually ended up resting with them during the free hour before afternoon classes.
He asked Milena about it, trying to sound casual and mostly failing.
"She left early this morning," Milena said, not looking up from her book.
"Something about needing to be at the palace ahead of something. Family duties, probably." A pause, and then, dryer; "I heard you’re gonna go today, for something. Try not to fall apart before then."
"I’m not falling apart."
"You’ve been reading the same four lines of your notes since I sat down."
He didn’t have a good answer for that.
By the time the last class ended, the sky had gone the particular gold color that meant evening wasn’t far off, and Elian’s stomach had settled into a low, persistent knot that no amount of talking himself down seemed able to touch.
He went back to the dorm, found the outfit exactly where he’d left it hanging with careful precision, and got dressed slowly, deliberately, the way you handle something you’re a little afraid of damaging.
The shirt still fit the way it had at four in the morning. The corset laced up easier this time, muscle memory doing what nerves alone couldn’t. He tucked the floral hairpin into his hair last, the way Bellamy had shown him, and stood in front of the mirror for a long moment afterward, not quite able to look away.
"You look like you’re about to be very late," Bellamy said from the doorway, arms crossed, unable to fully hide how pleased he looked with the end result.
"I’m pretty sure I already saw more than a few people go up to the carriage in the west courtyard and ask very intruding questions."
Elian went.
The courtyard was busier than he’d expected for the hour—a handful of students crossing between buildings, a few lingering after their last classes let out—and he felt every single one of the glances that came his way as he crossed toward the front gate.
Not unkind ones though, as he had come to be aware.
It wasn’t even really surprised ones either, to exact. Just... noticing. Lingering half a second longer than they needed to.
A pair of second-years stopped talking entirely as he passed.
Someone he didn’t recognize elbowed their friend and pointed, not subtly at all.
Cordelia, who was crossing in the opposite direction with an armful of books, walked directly into a wall.
"You alright?"
"Yeah..." She said, rubbing her forehead. "I just got blinded for a moment."
She didn’t bother explaining how before she walked away.
Oh and... then there was the incident by the fountain.
A tough-looking upperclassman—broad-shouldered, the kind of build that suggested it was someone you’d never want to cross, currently mid-conversation with a friend about something entirely unrelated—turned, caught sight of Elian walking past in the low gold evening light, and simply stopped functioning. His sentence died halfway through. His color went strange, a deep red like that of a apple. And then, with the slow, dignified grace of a felled pine, he tipped sideways and hit the ground in a dead faint, his friend yelping and scrambling to catch him half a second too late.
Elian froze mid-step. "Is he—"
"He’s fine!" his friend called back, already crouched over him, sounding far too used to this to be alarmed. "Happens to him sometimes. Don’t worry, you should carry on!"
Elian did not know what to do with that information, so he simply kept walking, ears burning, doing his absolute best not to look like a person who hadn’t just seen a grown man faint infront of him for reasons he didn’t want to acknowledge right now.
Ferran was waiting exactly where Bellamy had told him he’d be, standing beside an elegant black carriage near the front gate, hands folded behind his back with the same unreadable calm from their first meeting.
He gave Elian a slow, thorough once-over as he approached—not rude, just curious—and something in his expression shifted, subtle but unmistakable.
"Well," Ferran said, opening the carriage door for him with a small bow. "I can safely say the stories I’ve been hearing were not exaggerated in the slightest."
"Please don’t."
"I wasn’t going to elaborate." A faint, almost-smile. "Only observe. In you get. We’ve a bit of a ride ahead of us, and Her Majesty does not appreciate lateness."
Elian climbed in, settling carefully against the seat, doing his best not to crease anything.
Ferran closed the door behind him, circled around to take up the reins himself, and a moment later the carriage lurched into motion, wheels rattling over the courtyard stones before smoothing out onto the road beyond the gates.
Elian, for the first time since he’d arrived at Lucenhall, watched the school shrink behind him through the small window. One of his hands pressed flat against his own knee to keep it from bouncing, and let himself, finally, actually think about where he was going.
The capital. Dinner. A king who already knew, in some form, exactly what kind of danger Elian was standing in the middle of.
He took a slow breath, straightened the cardigan around his shoulders, and tried very hard to look like someone who belonged in a carriage bound for a palace.
He mostly succeeded.
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