Just as Adrian was about to answer, footsteps approached along the garden path.
Althea.
Taking advantage of the interruption, Adrian slipped away without a word. One moment he stood beside Samara, the next he was gone as if he had never been there at all.
Samara frowned slightly.
Of course he would disappear now.
She exhaled slowly, trying to organize the thoughts running through her mind.
Royalty? That's impossible.
Her lips pressed into a thin line.
My mind must just be tired, she thought.
Althea approached with his usual composed posture and greeted her with a polite nod.
The calm expression on his face pulled Samara back to reality.
"I haven't seen you in a while," Samara said.
"Yes indeed," Althea replied with a polite smile. "I had some errands elsewhere."
Samara studied him briefly.
"You were looking for me."
It wasn't a question.
Althea inclined his head slightly.
"Oh yes," he said. "I was asked to deliver a message."
His voice remained calm, but the words that followed carried a quiet authority.
"Violence will not be tolerated on these grounds."
Samara raised an eyebrow.
"Three warnings," Althea continued, "will result in immediate elimination from the competition."
For a moment, silence hung between them.
Samara simply looked at him.
Then the faintest smile appeared on her lips.
"I see."
Althea bid her farewell and reminded her to come for dinner later before walking away.
Samara watched him leave for a moment before turning toward the dormitory building. The corridors were quiet now, most of the candidates still lingering around the gardens or the training grounds.
Without thinking too much about it, she made her way back to her room.
When she opened the door, she noticed immediately that Tessa was not there.
The room felt strangely empty.
Samara stepped inside, closed the door behind her, and walked toward the bed. Without bothering to change or even remove her shoes, she threw herself onto the mattress and stared at the plain ceiling above her.
The white surface was dull and lifeless.
For a long moment she simply lay there.
Apparently… I have no real aim in life, she thought quietly.
Her hand slowly lifted toward the ceiling as if she were trying to reach something beyond it. But halfway through the motion, her arm lost its strength and dropped back onto the bed.
A quiet sigh escaped her lips.
The events of the day replayed faintly in her mind—Adrian, the fight in the garden, the strange feeling of being guided during the competition.
None of it made sense.
Her eyes slowly closed.
Exhaustion finally caught up with her, pulling her into sleep.
Darkness welcomed her gently.
She was standing somewhere high.
Very high.
The wind moved softly around her as she looked down from what seemed to be an endless staircase made of black stone.
Below her… thousands of people were kneeling.
Their heads were bowed.
Their voices echoed together like a tide crashing against the shore.
They were chanting.
Over and over again.
The same word.
Samara frowned, trying to hear them clearly.
Trying to understand what they were saying.
But the voices blended together into a single overwhelming sound.
She leaned forward slightly, straining to make out the word—
Suddenly—
"DINNER TIME!"
Samara jolted awake.
Her eyes snapped open as Stacey shook her shoulders excitedly.
"Dinner time!" Stacey repeated loudly.
Samara blinked slowly, trying to return to reality. The dream faded quickly, leaving only a faint uneasiness in her chest.
"I didn't think you'd be back so soon,"
Samara muttered, still slightly dazed.
Especially after what she had seen earlier in the gardens.
"I have to say… that was awesome," Stacey said, giving Samara a big thumbs-up. A huge smile was plastered across her face.
"Now we've got to hurry," she added, grabbing Samara's sleeve. "Dinner will get cold."
Samara groaned softly as she pushed herself off the bed.
"Fine… fine," she muttered.
Stacey immediately took the lead, practically dragging her out of the room and down the corridor.
The closer they got to the dining hall, the louder the voices became—laughter, conversation, and the clatter of utensils against plates.
But the moment Samara stepped through the doors, the entire room went quiet.
Harsh whispers replaced the cheerful noise.
The dining hall itself was enormous. Elegant chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, casting warm golden light across the polished floors. At the center of the hall stood a massive oval table that stretched almost the length of the room, allowing every candidate to sit together.
Dozens of eyes turned toward her.
"She's a goon," one girl whispered.
"She has no shame," another muttered.
"Who knows what she offered the mistress to qualify so quickly."
"Shush," someone else replied quietly.
"Maybe she's just talented. Stop trying to hate for no reason."
Samara listened to every word.
Her expression remained completely bored.
Then slowly… she straightened her posture.
A bright smile spread across her face.
Her eyes narrowed into thin crescents as she gently cleared her throat.
"Ahem."
The soft sound cut through the whispers like a blade.
"Excuse me, everyone," Samara said calmly.
Her voice was clear, smooth, and steady, like flowing water.
"Rumors without evidence are considered a criminal offense."
A few girls stiffened in their seats.
"In fact," she continued pleasantly, "the punishment for spreading malicious rumors can include the removal of one's tongue."
Silence flooded the dining hall.
Even the servants paused in place.
Samara's smile never wavered.
"So I would advise everyone here to think twice before speaking carelessly."
For a moment, no one dared to breathe.
The tension in the room became so heavy it felt as though even the sound of a pin dropping would echo through the hall.
Then Samara gave a soft, almost cheerful laugh.
"Oh, don't worry," she said lightly. "I didn't mean to scare anyone."
Her eyes swept slowly across the table.
"But ignorance is no excuse."
"Law is law, after all."
She clasped her hands behind her back as if nothing unusual had happened.
"Please, go ahead and enjoy your meals," she added sweetly. "Don't mind me."
Without waiting for a response, Samara calmly walked toward the table.
Stacey followed closely behind, trying very hard to suppress a grin.
They reached two empty chairs and sat down.
For several seconds, the dining hall remained frozen in silence.
Then slowly… the conversations resumed.
But this time, they were much quieter.
And far more careful.