6. (DANE POV)

(DANE POV)

I extended my hand to her as we made our way to the newbie dorm, a seemingly small gesture but one heavy with significance. "Hold my hand," I proposed, aiming to ward off any potential suitors with a clear signal of my interest, a protective stance against those I deemed unworthy of her.

It worked. This act of holding hands transcended mere physical contact. It became our silent assertion of connection. The masters we encountered paid their respects with curtsies, their glances lingering just a bit too long on our joined hands, recognizing the claim I was laying without a need for words.

With every step toward the dorm, my protective instincts screamed louder. I fought the duty I owed to the academy and its stringent rules against my urge to assure her of her safety in my absence.

Leaving her there clashed violently with everything in me, yet obligations and expectations forced my hand. Still, this fragile yet undeniable bond we'd started to form was not something I was r