The sun was high when Lyrana finally stumbled into the Cross-Species Political Ethics class the next afternoon. She hadn't slept. After retrieving the Codex from the library, under Kael's unnerving, silent supervision, she had worked straight through the night, fueled only by stale bread and the bitter knowledge that failure was not an option.
Her hair, usually neat, was a tangled mess she'd barely managed to tie back. Dark circles bruised the skin beneath her eyes, and her uniform was wrinkled. Her scales, instead of shimmering, were dull and tightly drawn against her skin, a sign of extreme fatigue. She looked, in short, exactly like a "low-magic creature" overworked by her aristocratic peers.
The Volkov Twins were already at the front of the room, impeccably dressed and radiating smug confidence. They accepted the voluminous draft Lyrana slid onto their table with a barely noticeable flick of the wrist.
"Excellent," Seraphina murmured, her voice laced with thin contempt. "Now, stay out of the way. We'll take it from here."
Lyrana didn't argue. She collapsed into her seat at the back, slumping against the cold stone wall. She forced herself to listen to the beginning of the presentation, the Vampire Twins speaking with polished, empty rhetoric about the theoretical fairness low-magic species deserved.
Her eyes drifted shut. Just for a second. Just to rest the strain.
The combination of the room's warmth, the drone of the twins' voices, and the crushing weight of forty-eight hours without sleep was too much. Her head tilted, and Lyrana was instantly plunged into a deep, desperate exhaustion.
She didn't hear the twins finish their presentation. She didn't hear the polite applause. She was lost to the world.
She was awakened not by a touch or a shout, but by a sudden, shocking torrent of icy water.
A collective gasp went around the room, quickly followed by nervous laughter.
Lyrana sat bolt upright, gasping, her clothes instantly soaked, the freezing water stinging her eyes and plastering her hair to her face. She was trembling, disoriented, and deeply humiliated.
Professor Fae, the elderly instructor, stood over her, an empty wooden bucket still in his hand, a self-satisfied smirk splitting his wrinkled face.
"Wake up, Miss Aquamarine!" the professor announced, his voice booming with forced jocularity.
"Honestly, a water nymph asleep in class? I thought a little dip in the pond might refresh you. We can't have our little fish drowning in her own fatigue, now can we?"
The room erupted into laughter. The other royal students, the wolves, the sirens, the cats, all found the scene hilarious. The Volkov Twins were particularly entertained, Seraphina covering her mouth with a pale hand to conceal a cruel smile.
Lyrana's chest seized. She felt every drop of water on her skin, the humiliation pressing down harder than any physical blow. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to stop the violent shaking, desperate to disappear. The scale-dusting on her cheeks seemed to glow silver with shame.
Her eyes, blurry with the sudden shock, involuntarily darted across the room to the table where Kael sat with his pack.
He was the only one not laughing.
Kael was usually a statue of cold indifference, but in that single, micro-second, before he could snatch it back, Lyrana saw it.
A flicker.
A raw, sharp flash of something that looked devastatingly like hurt.
It was a reaction too genuine, too exposed to be part of his act. The sight of her, soaked and shivering, the victim of a teacher's cruel joke that leveraged her vulnerability as a water creature, had momentarily cracked his Alpha shell.
It vanished instantly, replaced by the familiar, hardened mask of contempt. His jaw tightened, and his golden eyes went cold, fixing on Lyrana with a brutal possessiveness that seemed to say: I am the only one allowed to break you.
He stood up slowly, making the floorboards creak. The noise was commanding enough to silence the remaining snickers.
"Professor," Kael's voice was low, laced with the lazy authority that demanded attention.
"The presentation is over. Miss Aquamarine's section is complete. Dismiss the class."
The Professor, startled by the Alpha's unexpected intervention, stammered, "But, Kael, we still have…"
"Dismiss them," Kael repeated, his gaze never leaving Lyrana. He didn't use a threat, just a command so saturated with power that it couldn't be ignored.
The Professor nervously conceded, quickly dismissing the class. Students scurried out, eager to escape the tense atmosphere Kael had created.
Lyrana remained seated, shivering, watching Kael approach her table. When he stood over her, his immense frame blocking the light, she felt completely exposed.
"Pathetic," he said, his voice a low growl. "You were asleep. You made yourself a target."
"I was doing your rivals' work all night," Lyrana whispered, her teeth chattering. "I couldn't stay awake."
He reached out and, with a swift movement that made her flinch, tossed a folded, clean cloth, a heavy, luxurious silk handkerchief, onto the desk next to her.
"Dry yourself," he commanded. "And get that miserable scent out of here. If you are going to be my prey, you will at least have the decency to be sharp enough to avoid the professor's cheap theatricals."
He didn't wait for a response. He turned and strode out, leaving the heat of his presence and the inexplicable silk cloth behind.
Lyrana stared at the handkerchief. It was dark green, smelling faintly of clean linen and, more potently, Kael's deep, assertive cedar-and-pine Alpha scent. It was a gesture of cruelty masked as protection, a claim more than a comfort.
But as she picked it up, absorbing some of the water and the chill, Lyrana realized the Alpha had saved her from a worse, prolonged humiliation.
He saved her only to reinforce his ownership over her torment.