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The corridors of the Primary Academy were becoming a gauntlet for Calix. No matter how many times Kenzo snarled or Celine lectured, Vane and Leo simply would not stop. They had moved past simple bullying into a persistent, unsettling form of courtship that bordered on harassment.
Every morning, Calix would arrive at his desk to find something new. One day it was a box of expensive honey-glaze sweets from the capital; the next, a bouquet of rare blue lilies; and the day after that, an imported art book filled with sketches of mythical creatures.
Calix stood at his locker, holding a beautifully bound sketchbook that Leo had just handed him. He looked up at the older boy, his expression one of genuine, painful confusion.
"Leo, I don't understand," Calix said, his voice soft and hesitant. "It isn't my birthday. It isn't a holiday. Why do you keep giving me these things? I have plenty of paper at home."
Leo leaned against the locker next to Calix's, a smirk on his face. He was an Alpha, and he was intentionally letting a little bit of his scent—something like heavy musk—bleed out to see if he could provoke a reaction. "It's an apology gift, Calix. For being so rough a few weeks ago. We just want to be friends."
"But you apologized yesterday," Calix pointed out, his brow furrowing. "And the day before that. I don't want you to spend your money on me. Please, take it back."
"I can't do that," Leo said, his eyes scanning Calix's face with a hunger that made Calix's skin crawl. "A gift given is a gift kept. It would be very rude of a Prince to refuse a sincere gesture, wouldn't it?"
Calix bit his lip. He was too polite—too "Serpent" in his upbringing—to be blunt. He didn't want to be rude, but the pile of gifts under his bed at home was starting to feel like a mountain of obligations he didn't want. He ended up clutching the book to his chest, nodding awkwardly before scurrying away toward his next class.
Vane and Leo were shameless. They would stand in the hallway as Calix passed, speaking in loud voices that sounded polite to a casual listener but were filled with grotesque double meanings.
"Look at the way the light hits his hair, Leo," Vane said as Calix walked past them with Celine.
"It's so... supple. Like silk. I bet it feels even better when it's longer. You remember how it looked that day in the garden? How everything about him just.….softened?"
Leo let out a low, breathy laugh. He actually had to wipe his nose, a faint streak of red appearing on his sleeve—a literal nosebleed triggered by the mental image of Calix's female form. "Yeah. The way his waist looked in that shift. It's a waste to have all that beauty hidden under a boy's uniform. He's built like a masterpiece."
To Calix, the words were just weird. He didn't fully grasp the sexual undertones, but he understood the feeling behind them. It felt greasy. It felt like they were peeling off his clothes with their eyes.
"Celine," Calix whispered, leaning closer to his sister as they hurried toward the library. "Why do they talk about my hair like it's a piece of fabric? And why does Vane's nose always bleed when he looks at me? Is he sick? Should I tell the school nurse?"
Celine's face was a mask of cold fury. She was smart enough to know exactly what those words meant. "They aren't sick, Calix. They're disgusting. Don't look at them. Don't talk to them. If they give you anything else, give it to me. I'll burn it in the alchemy lab."
The awkwardness reached a breaking point during a joint study session in the Great Hall. Kenzo was across the room at a sparring drill, leaving Calix and Celine at a table near the back.
Vane approached, sitting down directly opposite Calix without being invited. He pushed a small, velvet box across the table.
"For you, Calix. It's a pin for your cloak. It matches your eyes," Vane said. His voice was low, and he was staring at Calix's neck with an intensity that made the younger boy shiver. "You know, you have a very delicate throat. Most Alphas would pay a fortune just to see you tilt your head back."
Calix froze. The words were "polite" in
structure, but the way Vane said 'tilt your head back' made Calix feel a sudden, sharp pang of fear. He felt the familiar, tingling heat in his chest—the sign that his magic was reacting to his discomfort, threatening to trigger another shift.
"Leave him alone, Vane," Celine snapped, slamming her book shut. "He doesn't want your pin, and he doesn't want your comments. Get out before I call the Proctor."
Vane didn't even look at her. He kept his eyes on Calix. "I'm just admiring his beauty, Celine. Is it a crime to appreciate fine art? You're so tense. Maybe if your brother was a bit more... flexible, like he was in the garden, we'd all be having a better time."
Before Calix could respond, or before his body could betray him and shift forms, a heavy shadow fell over the table.
Kenzo didn't say a word. He walked up behind Vane, grabbed the back of the older boy's chair, and jerked it backward so violently that Vane nearly fell onto the floor.
"I thought I told you what would happen if I saw you near him again," Kenzo said. His voice wasn't loud, but it had that "Blackwood growl" that silenced the entire room. He was covered in sweat from his drills, and his Alpha scent—burnt sugar and cold iron—was absolutely overwhelming.
Kenzo reached onto the table, grabbed the velvet box, and threw it across the hall. It hit the stone wall with a loud crack.
"Kenzo, wait—" Calix started, reaching for his brother's arm.
"No, Calix," Kenzo said, his eyes never leaving Vane's face. "You're too nice. These idiotic fools on't understand 'no thank you.' They only understand 'get out or get hurt.'"
Kenzo turned his gaze to Leo, who was standing a few feet away.
"And you. Wipe your face. You look like a pathetic dog. If I hear one more 'polite' word about my brother's hair or his waist, I'm going to go to your father's house and tell him exactly what kind of 'art' you've been admiring. I wonder how the Duke will feel about his heir being a common stalker."
Vane stood up, trying to regain some dignity, but he was trembling. The ten-year-old Kenzo was radiating a level of pure, concentrated territorial pheromones that made even the seniors feel like they were standing in front of a hungry wolf.
"Let's go," Kenzo commanded, grabbing Calix's hand and Celine's bag.
As they walked away, Calix felt the pressure in his chest subside. The female shift faded before it could begin, anchored by Kenzo's solid, aggressive presence. But as they left the hall, Calix looked back and saw Vane and Leo whispering to each other, their eyes still fixed on him.
The gifts hadn't worked, and the polite words had failed, but the obsession was only growing. For the first time, Calix realized that being "polite" wasn't enough to keep the world away. He clutched Kenzo's hand tighter, realizing that as long as he had his twin, the vultures couldn't reach him—but the North was getting smaller every day.