All Chapters of THE PRINCESS THEY RAISED AS A PRINCE : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The morning bell at Apex Academy didn’t just ring; it severed the remaining threads of my peace with a cold, metallic clang that vibrated straight through my teeth.​I stood in the second row of the senior group, keeping my back straight the way I had been taught since I was little.Around me, four hundred students in identical obsidian-and-silver uniforms shifted like a restless, dark-feathered sea. Yet, as the quiet rippled outward from the grand dais, the sea parted. Not physically nobody dared break formation but the sheer weight of collective gaze shifted entirely onto my back.​I didn't turn around. I had learned weeks ago that turning was an“showing weakness.”, an invitation for Malachi's silent correction. Instead, I stared straight ahead at the polished marble floor, watching the distorted reflection of the vaulted glass ceiling above.​"Silence," Headmaster Vance’s voice boomed through the hall, devoid of warmth, echoing off limestone walls that felt less like a seat of learn

The high vaulted windows of the upper archives smelled of dry parchment, stale lamp oil, and centuries of forgotten ink. It was the only place in the entire garrison academy where the brutal weight of the courtyard drills felt entirely removed, replaced instead by a suffocating, hushed silence that pressed against the eardrums. Outside, the rain had started, pattering a steady, frantic rhythm against the thick leaded glass panes like fingertips drumming on a coffin lid.​My right shoulder still throbbed with a dull, persistent ache beneath my wool tunic a direct souvenir from Vance’s heavy-handed takedown earlier that afternoon in the limestone yard. Every time I reached across the long oak table to turn a heavy calfskin page, the bruised muscle twitched in protest, reminding me of how close I had come to breaking apart entirely under his gaze.​I pulled the current ledger closer to the candlelight. The records for the eastern border levies were messy, filled with cross-referenced nam

The academy was never truly silent. Even at this hour, when the moon hung high and cold outside the frost-rimed windows, the thick stone walls carried echoes. The rhythmic tread of the night watch in the courtyard. The distant, muffled cough of a cadet two floors down. The low hum of the generator fighting against the winter freeze. It was a constant reminder that I was never alone. Not really. Not where it mattered.​I sat on the edge of the narrow cot, the rough wool blanket scratching against my bare skin. The only light came from the small, shielded lamp on the battered metal desk, casting long, wavering shadows across the small room. My fingers, trembling slightly, worked at the buckles of my uniform tunic. Each movement was a calculated effort, a fight against the deep, bone-weary exhaustion that threatened to pull me under.​The tunic fell away, pooling on the floor, leaving me in the thin undershirt. And beneath that, the bindings.​I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, steeli

The high collar of the ceremonial velvet uniform was a chokehold disguised as honor. A heavy gold braid coiled around my neck, holding my head at a rigid angle, while stiff, bone-lined fabric encased my chest. It pressed the canvas binder beneath my bruised ribs with every shallow breath I managed to draw.​I couldn’t feel three fingers on my right hand. I had spent forty-five minutes before the banquet wedging a heavy silver fork into my palm, testing for sensation until the skin bled, but the numbness remained solid and cold. I had dragged my formal glove over the dead limb, pulling the white kidskin tight so no one would see the waxy, bruised flesh beneath.​The Great Hall of the Academy was suffocating. Hundreds of candles flickered in overhead wrought-iron chandeliers, dripping wax onto the marble floors below. High-ranking nobles, decorated generals, and ambition-blinded cadets laughed over roast game and spiced wine. To them, the upcoming winter expedition to Mount Kosciuszko w

Pov: Tarni The hard floor of the academy cellar pressed against my back, but the heat coming from Banjo’s body behind me ​was even more uncomfortable. You’re breathing too high in your chest, Kael,” Banjo murmured, his voice a low vibration that rattled straight through my ribs. “Do that up here, and a blade will find the gap between your armor before you even register the steel.” ​I clamped my jaw shut, pressing my tongue against the roof of my mouth to stop the tremor in my teeth. Kael. He was calling me Kael. I had to remember that. I wasn't Tarni the sister who had spent her entire life tucked away behind embroidered silk screens and quiet hallways. Right now, under the suffocating weight of my twin brother’s leather doublet and the thick mud smeared across my jawline, I had to be the young lordling who never flinched. ​If Banjo caught even a hint of the softer line of my neck or the wrong rhythm of my pulse, the lie wouldn't just unravel it would bleed out right here on t