The Question

Blackthorn Imperial University was beautiful.

Ancient stone buildings.

Elegant gardens.

Historic architecture.

And apparently a student population that had entirely too much free time.

Rowan discovered this around noon.

Specifically, when three noble students began following him.

He sighed.

This was becoming a pattern.

He turned left.

They turned left.

He turned right.

They turned right.

He stopped.

They stopped.

Wonderful.

Absolutely wonderful.

Rowan turned around.

"Am broke."

The tallest one smiled.

"..."

"Then why are you following me?"

"We were asked to."

"By whom?"

The three exchanged looks.

Then smiled.

That was answer enough.

Prince Tristan.

Of course.

Because apparently being royal meant never developing hobbies.

And most importantly harassing civilians.

Across campus, Tristan sat beneath a tree while several students attempted to entertain him.

They failed.

Spectacularly.

One was discussing trade routes.

Another was discussing hunting.

A third was discussing himself.

Tristan considered pushing them into a river.

Then one of his friends approached.

"We got him."

Finally.

Tristan stood immediately.

Good.

He was getting tired of waiting.

Rowan made it approximately twenty more minutes before everything went wrong.

He had chosen a quieter path behind one of Blackthorn's older buildings.

A mistake.

The area was mostly abandoned.

Silent.

Hidden from the busier sections of campus.

Perfect for studying.

Or apparently royal stupidity.

A hand grabbed his shoulder.

Another caught his arm.

A third shoved him backward.

Rowan hit the wall.

Hard.

Pain shot through his shoulder.

His temper immediately followed.

"Get off me."

Nobody listened.

The noble students held him in place.

Not brutally.

Not enough to leave lasting damage.

Just enough to remind him exactly where he stood in the social hierarchy.

One of them laughed.

Another looked uncomfortable.

The third simply obeyed.

Rowan hated all three.

A few moments later, footsteps echoed through the corridor.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Confident.

Then Tristan appeared.

Perfect uniform.

Perfect posture.

Perfect expression.

The future king of Auroria.

Unfortunately.

He stopped several feet away.

The noble students released Rowan immediately.

Not because they wanted to.

Because Tristan had arrived.

The prince looked almost disappointed.

"You run surprisingly fast."

Rowan rubbed his sore shoulder.

"You chase surprisingly hard."

"That's not an answer."

"To what question."

Tristan smiled faintly.

Dangerous.

Not friendly.

Dangerous.

For the first time since arriving at Blackthorn, the polite prince disappeared.

The public mask slipped.

Just slightly.

Enough.

"Let's try this again."

Rowan already disliked where this was going.

"What?"

"Who are you?"

The question hung in the air.

Simple.

But not really.

Rowan crossed his arms.

"Someone who minds his own business."

A cold command followed.

"Name."

"Rowan."

"We covered that already."

"Then ask better questions."

The noble students winced.

Tristan's smile vanished.

Interesting.

Most people became nervous around him.

This one became sarcastic.

The prince took a step closer.

"What village?"

"Brain-Topia."

"What family?"

"The kangaroo family. Hops to its business."

"What are you hiding?"

"Am clearing showing basic common sense."

One of the noble students nearly laughed.

Then remembered who was standing beside him.

And wisely chose survival.

Tristan stared.

Rowan stared back.

Neither moved.

Neither yielded.

It felt strangely like a duel.

Just significantly less civilized.

Finally, Tristan exhaled sharply.

"You seem familiar."

"Do I get paid for that?"

"You're avoiding the point."

"It never existed."

The prince's jaw tightened.

There it was.

The thing Rowan had noticed early.

Tristan was used to answers.

Used to obedience.

Used to people adjusting themselves around him.

And for some reason—

he desperately wanted something from Rowan.

The problem?

Rowan had no intention of giving it.

"Do you know who I am?"

The question arrived suddenly.

Sharp.

Cold.

Unnecessary.

Rowan blinked.

Then laughed.

Actually laughed.

A mistake.

A terrible mistake.

"Unfortunately."

Silence.

The noble students looked horrified.

One physically stepped backward.

Tristan looked offended.

Genuinely offended.

As though reality itself had become disrespectful.

"Unfortunately?"

"You're impossible to miss."

"Most people would consider meeting me fortunate."

"There it is."

"There what is?"

"The problem."

Tristan frowned.

Rowan gestured vaguely.

"The whole prince thing."

The future king of Auroria stared.

Rowan continued.

"Everybody acts like you're the center of the world."

The corridor became silent.

Painfully silent.

Even the birds outside seemed concerned.

Then Rowan shrugged.

"You're just a student."

The silence somehow became worse.

Nobody spoke.

For several long seconds.

Then Tristan laughed.

Not because it was funny.

Because he was angry.

The dangerous kind.

The kind wrapped inside amusement.

"You're brave."

"No."

Rowan shook his head.

"Just tired."

That landed harder than any insult.

For the first time, Tristan looked at Rowan not as a curiosity.

Not as a puzzle.

Not as a familiar face.

But as a problem.

And Tristan Auroria had spent his entire life removing and eliminating problems.

A new voice suddenly echoed from the far end of the corridor.

"Ah."

Everyone turned.

A tall figure stood at the entrance.

Gray eyes.

Dark uniform.

A book tucked beneath one arm.

Cassian.

Of course.

Because apparently fate enjoyed bad timing.

Or excellent timing.

Depending on perspective.

Cassian looked from Rowan.

To the noble students.

To Tristan.

Then back to Rowan.

A pause.

Ah, what bad luck.

"Should I come back later?"

Rowan immediately pointed toward him.

"Please don't."

Cassian sighed.

The sigh of a man who had just discovered a problem.

A very annoying problem.

And unfortunately—

it appeared to be looking directly at him.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***