Chapter 185

Chapter 185
Rhea

The morning after Tyrant's retreat dawned cold and gray over Zenith, the kind of overcast sky that matched the exhaustion settling into every corner of campus. I woke to the distant sounds of construction crews already working on repairs and military transports hauling away debris left by Ironfang forces. Through the bond, I could feel Kael and Jax still asleep on either side of me, their presence warm and solid against the lingering fatigue from the siege.

Torres had ordered three days of medical leave, but by mid-morning, campus was already buzzing with a strange new energy. Not the desperate panic of the siege, but something harder to pin down—triumph mixed with grief and this cautious hope that showed in hushed conversations and uncertain glances whenever I walked by. Students who'd fought beside me now looked at me differently, like I represented something larger than just another cadet trying to survive.

It made my skin crawl.

"You should eat something," Jax said, appearing in the doorway with a tray that smelled like bacon and fresh bread. "Torres will kill me if you don't keep your strength up."

I managed a smile, even though the weight of everything that had happened sat heavy in my chest. "Since when do you listen to nurses?"

"Since one threatened to put me back in traction if I didn't take care of you." He set the tray down and dropped onto the couch next to me, close enough that our legs touched. "Eat. Dean's called a press conference in two hours, and you need to be ready."

The food tasted like cardboard, but I forced myself to eat anyway while scrolling through my phone. News outlets were still analyzing the fallout from the International Werewolf Council's ruling. The official sanctions document had been published an hour ago—a dense legal text that boiled down to: Tyrant had committed war crimes, the betrothal was void, and Ironfang would face severe economic consequences.

The comments sections were explosive.

"Final vote: 77-23 to nullify. The old guard is crumbling."

"My daughter starts at Zenith next semester. First time in history that's even possible. Thank you, Princess Rhea."

"So when a woman says 'no' to marriage, the appropriate response is NOT five thousand troops? Revolutionary concept."

But there were others that made my stomach tighten:

"She's clearly unstable. Did you see footage of her power? Females can't handle that kind of strength—it'll destroy her."

"This is why women don't belong in combat. She caused this whole mess by running from her duty."

I made myself stop reading before the comments could drag me down. Jax's arm came around my shoulders, warm and solid, reminding me I wasn't alone.

Kael came out of the bedroom already dressed in his black uniform despite the early hour, his face unreadable. "Let them talk. Dean Ashford's going to control the narrative, and he's not fool enough to waste what you just gave him."

The press conference was held in the main quad, where burn marks from artillery still scarred the stone and smoke smell lingered in the drizzle. Dean Ashford stood in front of the cameras in combat fatigues instead of his usual suit. Behind him, a massive screen showed the Zenith crest, and beneath it, footage that made my stomach clench.

Night-vision shots of Ironfang's army surrounding campus. Students on the walls under fire. Medical teams in makeshift triage. Destroyed buildings, food lines, exhausted faces of kids who'd become soldiers overnight. And then clips of me—standing in the square addressing everyone, my voice steady despite the circumstances. The moment I stood before the entire school, refusing to let him break our spirit.

"For the past eleven days and five hours," Dean Ashford's voice carried across the quad and into every camera, "Crown Prince Tyrant of the Ironfang Federation held this institution—an internationally protected military academy—under armed siege. His reason? To reclaim a runaway bride who dared to say no."

The screen showed new footage: Tyrant's forces, five thousand regular troops with armor and air support, facing students whose average age was twenty. Casualty reports in white text. One hundred seventy wounded. Six civilians injured nearby. Two point three billion in damages.

"And what," Ashford continued, his voice going cold, "did Crown Prince Tyrant accomplish with all that military might?" He paused. "Nothing. He didn't capture anyone. He didn't break Zenith's spirit. He didn't achieve a single objective. The only thing he demonstrated was how pathetic a man becomes when his ego is wounded."

Some of the press actually laughed, and I felt Kael's hand find mine where we stood at the edge of the crowd. Through the bond, his steady confidence flowed into me, keeping me grounded despite all the cameras and scrutiny.

I refreshed my phone's news feed. #JusticeForZenith was still trending worldwide, now joined by #ZenithStrong and #NewEraMilitary.

The press conference continued, Dean Ashford systematically dismantling every excuse Ironfang could offer, presenting evidence of violations with surgical precision. And then he dropped the announcement that made every camera flash:

"Effective immediately, Zenith University will implement a pilot program for gender-equal admissions. Starting next semester, we will not have separate standards or separate evaluations. Just one question: can you meet our standards? Can you prove you belong at Zenith?"

His gaze swept the students, landing briefly on me. "Because these past eleven days, I watched students of every gender, every background, every bloodline stand together and defend what they believed in. I watched a young woman who'd been told her entire life she was too weak, too emotional, too female to be a warrior—and I watched her stand between this school and destruction. And I watched her inspire others to do the same."

The quad erupted in cheers so loud they drowned out everything else, students shouting and embracing and crying. I felt tears on my own face, the weight of everything suddenly lighter because it had mattered, because things were actually changing, because we hadn't endured all that for nothing.

Kael pulled me against his chest, his good arm wrapping around me while the sling on his injured shoulder pressed awkwardly between us. "You did this," he said against my hair. "You changed everything."

"We did this," I corrected, reaching back to grab Jax's hand and pull him into the embrace. "All of us together."

The celebration continued around us, but I kept checking my phone's feed. The International Werewolf Council had published their full report: Ironfang's actions officially classified as war crimes, the marriage contract legally invalidated due to evidence of coercion and assault, authorization for comprehensive trade sanctions. Tyrant was on an international watch list now, his movements restricted, his reputation in ruins.

It should have felt like pure victory. It did feel like victory, in the parts of me that could still process anything through the exhaustion. But there was something else too—the knowledge that I'd awakened power I didn't fully understand, that I'd crossed lines I couldn't uncross, that people now looked at me with expectations I wasn't sure I could meet.

"Come on," Jax said gently, tugging me toward the apartments. "You need rest."

The apartment was quiet after the chaos outside, and I collapsed onto the couch with a sound that was half relief, half exhaustion. Everything ached—muscles, head, the mark on my neck where Tyrant had bitten the old scar burned like it was still fresh.

Kael disappeared into the kitchen and returned with actual hot tea while Jax settled on the floor in front of me, his hands finding my feet and beginning to massage the tension away. For a while, we just existed there in comfortable silence, the bond humming between us like a steady heartbeat.

"What happens now?" I finally asked, because I couldn't stand not knowing.

"Now," Kael said carefully, sitting beside me with the tea, "the politics grind forward. The Council will enforce sanctions. Ironfang will pay reparations. Tyrant will face consequences for violating international law." He paused, steam curling between us. "And you need to decide what role you want in all this."

I blinked at him. "My role?"

"You're not just Rhea Winterbourne anymore," Jax said quietly, his amber eyes unusually serious. "You're a symbol now. The woman who stood up to Tyrant and survived. The first female cadet at Zenith. The princess who chose her own path."