Chapter 95 Is it too much?
SOMA
Friday morning finds me fussing with my hair in front of the mirror. I set the brush down and smooth my palms down the fabric of my dress.
The person staring back at me feels unfamiliar with her hair curled and pinned right. Her lips are tinted a soft shade of rose that reminds me of the bouquet downstairs. A white dress hugs her frame and flares in all the right places.
“Wow,” a voice says behind me. I turn and see Jade lingering at the doorway, her hands clasped. “You look pretty, my lady.”
My gaze returns to the mirror, and my smile falters.
“Is it too much?” I ask. “Won’t he find it unnecessary?”
It’s only a conversation, but I look like a dinner date is part of the agenda. What if he doesn’t ask me to the ball?
What if he does?
We both agree we will accept each other if we end up being mates. And if we’re not, we can still have a good relationship. It starts here. Today. I can forgive all.
Jade walks closer, shaking her head firmly. “Not at all.”
Still uncertain, I chew on the inside of my cheek. She steps behind me and adjusts a strand of hair near my ear.
“It’s just enough,” she whispers. “Tonight, he’ll see what I’ve always known. That you’re beautiful and perfect.”
A sound spills out of my lips, muffled by my palm. I spy on my reflection again, appreciating her this time.
Perfect is a reach, but beautiful? I can agree with that. Taking a step back, I twirl, and Jade laughs. The tension in my shoulders melts, and I sigh. Brynne’s invitation made me realize I’ve never been on a date, not even with Mason.
If I don’t leave now, I’ll be late. The dress rustles as I grab my bag and sling it over my shoulder. Jade leaves my room, but when I step into the living area, she’s standing by the coffee table with a woven basket.
“What’s that?” I ask.
She smiles. “A picnic basket.”
Curiosity tugs at my steps as I draw closer. She lifts the lid, and a warm, buttery, and sweet aroma curls into the air. My stomach gives an eager flutter. Nestled inside the basket are some neatly packed treats: a small container of golden, flaky pastries dusted with powdered sugar, a jar of honey-glazed nuts, and two slices of what appears to be a warm, spiced apple loaf wrapped in cloth.
She points to the pastries. “Prince Tristan told me those were the crown prince’s favorite.” Her gaze lowers as she mentions that last part, and my chest tightens. “I made it, so the two of you can have something to eat while you talk.”
“It’s just an apology,” I protest. “I don’t like him.”
“You don’t have to like him before you take the pastries. I know you forbade us from mentioning his name around you, but I don’t think he’s that bad,” she says. She sounds like Tristan, almost like they’ve rehearsed the same lines to use. “If he wants to apologize, then he must be ready to change. Maybe he’ll start acting like your prince.”
Maybe. I stare at the basket as she shuts the lid, the knot in my chest softening. “I didn’t know you could bake.”
“Just a little.” Jade shrugs, but there’s pride in her voice and the way her lips tilt. When I reach for the basket, she pulls it away. Such a stubborn creature. “Are you ready?”
“You still haven’t told me what’s so important we have to wait until his apology,” I say. “Why not tell me now?”
We start for the door, falling into step beside each other. Jade’s hand curls around the door handle, and I press my hand to the wood before she can twist it.
“Tell me now,” I demand. “Is it about Brynne?”
“After,” she swears. “I promise. When you return.”
My eyes narrow, but she stands firm, refusing to yield. I draw back, letting her open the door that reveals an empty hallway. Has Brynne left? I glance once at his door, take a breath to steady my nerves, and continue to the stairs.
As we pass the foyer, I grin at the fresh set of flowers on display, so tempted to stop and sniff them. Did he water them this morning? Never in a million years would I have thought Brynne to be a gardener, a dedicated one at that.
Jade walks me the entire way to his class, but neither of us says much to each other. I’ve never been to this part of the academy before, let alone the Year 5 class, but when I reach the door and try the handle, it gives way with a soft click.
I step inside and gasp.
This… this isn’t a classroom. Not like the ones I know.
The space is huge, almost twice the size of my lecture hall. Stained-glass skylights adorn the high ceilings, spilling soft, colorful light across polished floors.
There are no rows of stiff desks, but long, curved tables made of dark, gleaming wood, spaced in arcs that face a raised platform at the front. Every seat features a velvet-cushioned chair and slender, built-in lamps that emit a soft, ambient glow.
Jade enters behind me, her mouth parting slightly as she sets the picnic basket on the nearest table. The walls are lined with old tapestries, maps from packs I don’t recognize, and shelves filled with thick, leather-bound books.
A wall of windows to the right opens out into the hills beyond the academy, giving the room an airy, open feel. At the far end, I spot a combat planning table, the kind generals might use, and a mounted display showing battle simulations and strategic movements.
This place feels less like a classroom and more like a royal war chamber crossed with a diplomatic briefing room. What our lecturers have always said finally resonates with me.
Year 5 isn’t just for lessons. It’s for training future leaders for what comes after.
Jade nudges me with a small smile, her voice quiet as she whispers, “Do you still think your dress is too much?”
We both laugh. I stare at the door as I settle into one of the chairs, like Brynne will appear. Why’s he late?
A peek at my phone shows I’m early by ten minutes. Jade moves from each map, shaking her head as she takes in the information. Brynne must be so smart to be their set leader. Everything in the room shows that excellence is expected and demanded from every student. I can’t be lacking if I want to sit by his side as Luna.
At five minutes to the agreed time, I clear my throat, and Jade turns to me. “Can you check to see if he’s close?”
“What if I see him? Do I come back?” she asks.
“No,” I whisper. “Just go.”