Priam woke before dawn, as was becoming his habit. For the first time since his arrival in this world, he'd managed a full night's sleep—not restful, exactly, but not haunted by endless calculations of survival, either. There was a deep exhaustion settling in his bones, the product of days spent balancing schemes and shifting fates, yet he felt a strange sense of accomplishment as the dim blue of pre-dawn filtered through the small window of his servant's quarters.
One script avoided. A hundred more to go, he thought as he swung his legs over the side of the narrow bed. The stone floor was freezing beneath his bare feet; the air itself seemed to hum with nervous anticipation.
He dressed in silence, donning his butler uniform with careful precision, letting the mechanical familiarity steady his thoughts. As he fastened the silver Ashcroft buttons—a ritual as much as a necessity—he allowed himself a moment to plan the day ahead. The academy's classes would begin that morning. There would be opening speeches and a parade of professors. But more crucial, there would be new social ripples in the aftermath of last night's reception.
Time to see what consequences I've put in motion.
He stepped out onto the landing and descended into the servants' kitchen, where morning preparations were already in full swing. Luxanna was there before him, bustling over a pot of porridge and doling out orders to younger maids.
"Good morning, Master Priam!" she greeted softly, pressing a fresh roll into his hand as he passed. "You did well last night. Lady Seraphina smiled when she came in—a real one."
Priam paused, surprised by how much those words pleased him. "Thank you, Luxanna. Let's hope she keeps smiling after breakfast."
He finished his meal quickly, then made his way to Seraphina's quarters. He knocked gently, awaiting her response. "Enter," came her crisp call.
She was awake, already seated at her dressing table, eyes fixed on her own reflection. The purple gown was gone, replaced by the academy's formal uniform—high-collared navy with silver trim, an embroidered Ashcroft crest at her shoulder. Her golden hair was pulled back into a neat chignon, her expression schooled to serene indifference. But there was something new in her posture, some faint relaxation in her shoulders.
"Good morning, my lady," Priam said, bowing.
Seraphina gave him a long look in the mirror, neither smiling nor frowning. "Morning, Priam. I trust everything is prepared?"
"Of course."
He assisted in laying out her books and arranging essential papers. As she readied herself, she broke the silence with an unexpected question. "Do you think the Prince will approach me again today?"
Priam considered. "It's possible. You made an impression last night."
She studied him, one brow arched. "You sound noncommittal."
"I prefer never to underestimate anyone here," he replied carefully. "Least of all His Highness. He enjoys unpredictability, I think. Perhaps meeting someone who doesn't chase after him will make him curious."
Seraphina smiled faintly. "You always manage to flatter and insult at once. An art in itself."
Before Priam could reply, Luxanna appeared with a message: "The welcome assembly is about to begin, my lady."
The procession to the great hall was a slow, regal parade. Nobles and their retinues moved like streams merging in a river, each student arrayed in house colors and displaying as much wealth and dignity as possible. Priam walked a respectful step behind Seraphina, noting the shifting glances cast their way. A few highborn girls whispered behind gloved hands. Rival house retainers eyed him, measuring up the 'favored' butler of Ashcroft.
As they entered the hall, trumpets blared. Priam guided Seraphina toward the Ashcroft section, aware that the entire student body seemed arrayed for inspection. Headmistress Corvina stood at a lectern, the royal banner behind her, ready to begin the interminable speeches.
Priam's eyes swept the crowd. There was Lady Elara Rosefield—today in pale blue, calm and demure—surrounded by well-wishers and suitors. There was Isolde Ravencrest, icy and haughty, sparing Seraphina a pointedly cold nod. He even caught a glimpse of Lady Vivienne Nightshade at the shadowy end of the assembly—calculating, already taking notes.
And of course, the Prince. Crown Prince Aldric sat on a raised dais, formal but clearly observing everything. His gaze lingered on Seraphina only briefly before returning to the headmistress.
The ceremony began. Pomp and tradition, values and expectations, a lengthy recital of the school code. When the time came for formal introductions of the highest ranking nobles, Seraphina's name was called near the top. She rose gracefully, gave her crisp curtsy, and delivered her prepared introduction:
"Seraphina von Ashcroft, daughter of Duke Ashcroft. Honored to uphold the Ashcroft legacy and serve the future of Eldoria."
Polite applause. A sea of assessing eyes. No stumble, no nerves visible—her transformation from last night's trembling hope to today's polished mask was absolute.
Afterward, as the assembly broke into smaller clusters, Priam stayed close but unobtrusive, watching for snarled social traps. Several girls approached Seraphina to congratulate—or lightly goad—her on the Prince's apparent interest. There was an undercurrent of rivalry already brewing.
Elara herself found a moment to greet Seraphina. "Lady Ashcroft, you looked resplendent last night."
Seraphina responded with a perfect, if cool, gratitude. "Lady Rosefield, I appreciated your ensemble as well. I trust you are settling in comfortably?"
"She is," Priam answered lightly, surprising both women. "And Lady Elara provides a steadying influence to those around her. A rare quality." He offered a courtly bow, then faded back.
Elara gave him a smile that was kind but also assessing. Seraphina shot him a sidelong glance—part vexed, part amused.
As the day wore on, lessons were assigned and the first schedules distributed. Privileged students received their personal magical artifact tokens and were directed to the library and dueling halls. Priam spent his time mapping the campus, memorizing entrances and exits, noting who walked together and who stood apart.
That evening, back in Seraphina's sitting room, the mood was unexpectedly relaxed. She actually let out a small, unguarded sigh as she settled onto her chaise.
"So this is my life now," she murmured to the high ceiling. "Constant games, constant vigilance."
Priam brought her tea and set it beside her. "It's what you wanted, isn't it?"
She looked at him, something searching and soft in her gaze. "I suppose it is. Somehow I expected to feel... triumphant. Instead, I just feel tired."
There was a silence, easy but heavy with possibilities. Priam thought back to the warnings of fate and the weight of all his decisions. He wanted to offer comfort, to say something that would pierce the perfection she wore like armor. But he settled for, "You'll get used to it."
Seraphina's lips crinkled in a genuine, if small, smile. "Or I'll learn to thrive in it."
Priam nodded. "That's the spirit, my lady. You didn't come all this way just to fade into the background."
"I suppose not."
The night deepened. For the first time, Priam felt that perhaps—just perhaps—the lines of the story could be redrawn, if only he played each coming day with care.
Somewhere in the shadows of the academy, secrets and rivalries were already coming to life, and the butler who wasn't meant to matter was preparing to tip the scales once again.
Let the games begin.