Chapter Thirty

Elowyn put the balms to work and went about getting ready. She was limping but she felt better than last night.

She adjusted her uniform with trembling hands, her limbs still sore from the brutal beatings days ago. She gritted her teeth, pulling her boots on one at a time, suppressing a wince as pain screamed up her thigh.

The dorm was still and thick with silence. Baron sat on the edge of his bed with a towel slung around his neck, watching her through his wide open door from beneath long, dark lashes. Azpen stood near the doorway, sipping from a steel flask of warm whatnot.

She gave them a shallow bow — barely meeting their eyes — then limped out of the room like a ghost.

Baron’s eyes narrowed as he caught the stiffness in her gait.

“Did you see that?” he muttered.

Azpen blinked and giggled. “Yeah. Limping. Like a gazelle."

“He didn’t say a word,” Azpen later added.

“Let's see.” Baron said.

★★★

★★★

The whistle blew, and cadets burst into movement across the wide, open field. Elowyn struggled to keep up, her leg throbbing with every step.

But, she was a bit faster than expected.

Her lungs were already burning when a figure slowed beside her.

“Pace with me, Froste.” Riven said quietly.

She blinked, stunned. His voice was gentle but firm — not mocking, not commanding. Just… present.

Riven Thorney.

Prince.

Elite cadet.

That one blue-eyed boy who used to seem like an upcoming nightmare.

With cheekbones carved from royal stone and eyes like stormy dusk.

Elowyn nearly stumbled. “Wh-what?”

“You’re limping. Keep left leg steady, lean slightly forward. Breathe.”

She obeyed, more out of shock than belief, and for a strange moment… the pain lessened.

From the front, the instructors screamed.

“THORNEY! WHAT IS THIS?! MOVE OR BEAT!”

But Riven didn’t flinch.

He ran beside her. “Let them bark. Move!”

Elowyn’s breath hitched. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone shielded her — not like this. Not during pain. Her chest swelled with something unfamiliar.

She glanced sideways, her eyes meeting Riven’s — and she froze.

He was beautiful.

He was so close that it slapped her on the face.

Ridiculously, outrageously beautiful. The kind of face that made time slow.

And he was looking right at her.

With a half-smile.

“You’re improving,” he said softly.

Elowyn's brain was fast to scold her.

"Focus. Don't give off that female-in-love aura or you're dead!"

She quickly pulled off a stiff, breathy chuckle and began to go faster.

★★★

★★★

Elowyn sat alone on the edge of a bench, legs trembling. Her face was flushed from more than just exertion.

Baron stood with Azpen across the field. He’d seen it all — Riven falling into step with her. Helping her. Smiling like they shared some secret language.

“Stick's finally getting cozy,” Azpen said quietly, rubbing his jaw.

Baron didn’t answer.

Azpen smirked. “You good?”

Baron still didn’t answer.

His jaw clenched. His eyes stayed on Riven.

And for the first time in a long time…

He didn’t like the look of someone else being kind to her.

"This is good for the prince. But I wonder why." He muttered and looked away.

Azpen nodded.

"I'm off." He said and Baron nodded.

★★★

★★★

The clatter of trays and scraping of chairs filled the air as cadets swarmed around tables like a wild pack. Elowyn sat quietly at the table at the edge of the hall, her eyes flickering from her food to the floor, still mentally replaying her morning with Riven.

Her fist was clenched and she was licking her lips softly.

She barely noticed the boys sauntering toward her table — tall, smug, flanked with too much confidence and not enough brain cells.

“Oy, Elyan,” one of the boys jeered loud enough for the entire hall to hear. “You and Thorney got real cozy today. You sucking his dick for training tips now?”

Laughter rippled around the hall like wildfire.

The four of them sat.

Elowyn froze.

“What?” she muttered.

“You heard me,” the boy grinned, slapping the table. “How does that work, huh? He bends and you make dwarf babies together?”

More laughter. Louder. Crueler.

"Gaydom is great but I wonder how it fits in this hellhole...."

More laughter.

"No flesh behind those legs but you still spread them open...."

"Froste is gay...."

"Froste is in heat...."

"Froste is gay and slutty...."

Something in Elowyn snapped.

“I’M NOT GAY!” she shouted.

Silence, then more laughter — mocking, endless.

More insults came from around.

She clenched her fists. Her face was burning. Every bone in her body screamed to flee — but she stayed.

She glared.

And then — splat.

She hurled her food tray at the first taunter’s chest. The goop of sauce and buttered bread clung to his uniform. The hall gasped.

Theee was some silence and then some murmurings as the boys around her table stopped taunting her.

“You little—” he lunged at her.

Elowyn cringed.

Before he could touch her, a hard voice sliced through the air.

“Cadet Asher. I’ll like me to be the beheader this time. Step back.”

Every head whipped around.

Baron Ortega stood tall, lips barely parted, eyes cold like forged iron.

He walked forward towards the table where Elowyn was sitted, breathing heavily.

Baron looked at the boys and sighed.

"Take your things away from this table."

The boys hesitated.

"Now."