Chapter 4- Eyes on the Prince

There was power in being unpredictable.

And Sonia was done being predictable.

The whispers followed her through Daxton’s stone hallways like perfume. Every turn, every glance, every flipped lock of hair from some swooning girl came with a side of stares. The blazer, the silence and the slightly haunted eyes, they were working.

She had stopped receiving warning notes.

Maybe whoever had been leaving them got bored.

Or maybe they were watching something else now.

---

Sonia took her seat in Global Affairs, late by ten seconds, just enough to make it look intentional. Her chair scraped loudly against the polished floor. Every head turned. Even Professor Maddox paused mid-sentence, one brow lifting.

“Mr. Vale,” he said dryly, “You’ve graced us.”

She dropped into her seat without flinching. “You’re welcome.”

A few boys snickered.

Even Eric glanced up from his notes. Just a flick of his eyes.

But it was enough.

She didn’t meet his gaze. Not anymore.

That was the new rule.

Sonia Vale doesn’t chase anyone. Not even him.

---

By lunch, the shift was obvious.

Girls still tried to sit beside her. One offered a juice box “just like the ones you used to like, remember?” Another slipped her a paper heart folded into a fortune-teller.

Sonia ignored them both.

She chose the far table near the fountain, her earbuds in, eyes scanning her brother’s notebook. She didn’t actually play music. She just liked the shield it gave her.

Across the quad, Eric sat with the Blackbourne circle, sons of politicians and heiresses. They laughed loud, passed notes, traded rumors. But Eric’s eyes kept drifting.

To her.

And each time she looked up, he looked away first.

Good.

Let him wonder.

Let him squirm.

---

“New vibe suits you,” Mavina said that afternoon, sliding into the chair across from her in Daxton’s rooftop library. The wind toyed with her perfect curls.

Sonia raised a brow.

“Icy. Unreachable. Like royalty with secrets. Very... dangerous.” Mavina smirked. “I like it.”

“You liked me better when I played nice,” Sonia muttered.

Mavina leaned in, lowering her voice.

"No. I liked you better when I knew what you wanted.”

Sonia closed her book. “Maybe I don’t know what I want anymore.”

Mavina’s smile faltered. “Then be careful, Vale. Because people who don’t know what they want… become easy to manipulate.”

---

Later that evening, fencing practice.

The room buzzed with movement, blades clashing, sneakers squeaking. Sonia strapped on her gear, head down, fingers tight on the grip. Across the mat stood Eric, already suited up, jaw clenched.

"You look distracted,” he said.

She gave a faint shrug. “Maybe I’m bored.”

“You used to enjoy this.”

“I used to enjoy a lot of things.”

He lunged. She parried.

They danced, swords striking, feet gliding. Tension snapped between them like electric wire. He came closer, too close, blade hissing past her shoulder.

“You’re different,” he said quietly, just for her. “Colder.”

She blocked him hard.

“Maybe I finally see people for who they are.”

He froze for half a second, just enough for her to win the round.

The bell rang.

Sonia pulled off her mask, sweat clinging to her temples.

Eric didn’t look angry. He looked... unsettled.

She walked past him without a word.

---

That night, Sonia stood by the East Tower window, watching the lights flicker in the Headmaster’s building.

Then she saw it.

A figure. Slipping through the hedge. Into the back door of the faculty archives.

She narrowed her eyes.

Eric Blackbourne.

Breaking curfew.

Breaking rules.

And clearly hiding something.