Chapter Twenty One

Her hands trembled slightly as she wrung the cloth dry. She couldn’t afford to slip now.

Not with her blood betraying her.

Not with Haspan still waiting somewhere in the shadows of her fate.

She folded the cloth into a tight pad, shoved it inside her undergarment, and adjusted her trousers with a wince. There wasn’t time to let herself feel the cramps coming. She had another drill tomorrow

“Thanks for the lesson, Mother.”

But even she didn’t know if it was gratitude or grief.

A loud knock rattled the bedroom door.

Her pulse jumped.

“Our Scrawny Lord! Open up!” Azpen's voice.

She panicked, stumbling slightly as she yanked her trousers up, then scurried forward and latched the door just in time.

Another knock. Harder.

“We know you’re there. Don’t make us drag you out,” Azpen barked. He sounded bored, as always.

“I’m coming!” she lied, wiping the sweat from her palms on her shirt. Her heart thudded. This wasn’t just a bathroom break. It was her first bleed since arriving here.

THUD. THUD. THUD.

Not aggressive, but intentional.

Azpen’s voice slid in.

“Your breathing’s off. Open up.”

“I’ll be out in a second.” Her voice came out sharp, too quick. Too unnatural.

A pause.

Azpen again:

“Didn’t realize we had a little princess in our unit. Need help powdering your cheeks too?”

A long silence. Elowyn was panicking.

Another knock. This time softer.

Baron’s tone. Blunt. Controlled.

“Elyan. Don’t make me come in.”

Her heart skidded.

Baron, quieter now, muttered something Elowyn couldn’t catch. Azpen huffed.

There was a long silence.

Baron’s voice came first. Cold. Impatient.

"Elyan Froste. Open the damn door.”

Her heart pounded in her chest. Her body felt fragile, raw—cramping from her cycle and the stress. She pressed her back to the door, swallowing the lump of fear that refused to go away.

Azpen’s voice followed, calmer, like ice over fire.

“You’re wasting our time again. You think hiding in the bathroom will save you from discipline?”

Discipline.

A memory of her mother’s voice crept in then, soft and far away:

"Always keep cotton clean and hidden, darling. If you must bleed, bleed in silence."

She hated that voice in her head. Hated how her mother, Ariya, had taught her to hide everything—her scent, her blood, her identity. Yet now, that same training was saving her.

Baron’s voice turned venomous.

“You’ve got five seconds. Five—”

A crash. Her bedroom door slammed open. Elowyn gasped and ran away from the bathroom door. She bit her lip to stop from crying out as she heard their boots storm in.

"Where is he?” Baron hissed.

There was silence. Then Azpen’s low chuckle.

"Our Prince locked himself in the bathroom.”

Baron snarled.

“Coward.”

"Or clever,” Azpen replied, leaning against the wall, just outside the bathroom. “But only for tonight.”

A soft knock this time. From him.

“We brought you bread.”

Elowyn stared at the door in disbelief.

Bread? Now?

Her stomach twisted in pain and hunger. Was it a game? A trap? Or… something else?

One beat. Two beats. And three.

Elowyn shut her eyes tight and willed herself.

The room still smelled of cheap soap and damp linen when the wooden door slammed open, jarring Elowyn from her anxious stillness. She clutched her robe tighter, body still weak from her bleeding, but the bathroom door had been her savior just minutes before.

Now, creeping out cautiously, she found Baron and Azpen standing like sentinels. No weapons in hand. No discipline belts. No mockery. Just... watching.

Baron leaned lazily against the doorway. “No punishment today, Elyan Froste" He said with a faint smirk. “You’ve turned a new leaf, haven’t you?”

Azpen tilted his head, extending a small satchel. “We brought bread. And goodies.”

Elowyn blinked. “Goodies?”

Azpen nodded. “From the kitchen girls. You’re not the only one who knows how to act sweet around here.”

Elowyn gave a soft, surprised laugh.

Baron leaned closer, eyes dancing. “Stop shivering and eat.”

Elowyn licked her lips and glanced at each face, unsure of her next decision.

As she took the satchel of goodies, Azpen’s gaze flicked toward her desk. He walked over without warning and picked up her flask.

Her eyes widened in horror. “Give that back!”

She lunged like a cat, grabbing for it. Baron was there, watching the tug-of-war.

“What’s in it, Scrawn Wolf?” He asked slowly.

“A purifying herb.” Elowyn said through gritted teeth, tugging the flask to her chest.

Baron’s face darkened. “Azpen, give it back.”

Azpen released it at once, and Elowyn backed off, clutching it like a lifeline.

Azpen and Baron glanced at each other briefly.

She'd caught the look on Baron's face fast and now she was regretting her great carelessness.

“I’ll never let anyone see it again,” she said in her head, backing toward her bed. “Stupid.... stupid me.”

The seniors left the room silently.

She curled on her mattress, face tight with shame. The flask held more than herbs — it held the truth to her true scent, to secrets too deep to confess. Her mistakes could not spill further.

Elowyn’s gaze shifted toward the window.

The wind outside had changed.

Rain came down.

★★★

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Haspan sat in his windowless study, fingers tapping against a cracked crystal vial filled with thick golden liquid.

“That bastard” He murmured. “Who has her in possession.”

A hooded figure kneeled before him.

“Should we take it?”