The Vain Princess and Her Dragon Knight

Chapter 8

"Elstar, why are you just standing there?"

Gloria looked back. The knight's gaze was fixed on her, hotter than the golden sun overhead. He claimed it was to protect her at all times—but his current state was clearly a daze. Could a dazed man truly protect anyone?

Elstar collected himself, crossing the distance in two long strides to stand half a step behind her. Gloria approved of this distance. Close enough to intervene, far enough to avoid collision. Still, she frowned. "Do you really have to stare at me like that?"

"Yes, Your Highness." His voice was firm, utterly trustworthy.

"Fine." Gloria was placated, though she resolved to reread her Guardian Knight manual later—surely there was guidance on how to ignore a knight's constant staring.

That afternoon, after her walk, she lay on the garden pavilion's rocking chair. With Natasha on leave, there were no stories to fill the two long hours. Restless, Gloria lifted the silk cloth from her face and called to the knight standing guard outside. "Elstar, go ask Cui if he's free. I have questions for him."

"Cui?" The knight didn't move. The silver helmet turned toward her. "What do you need him for?" He stepped into the pavilion and crouched beside her chair, his reasoning sounding perfectly logical. "If you tell me some details, I can relay your questions directly—saving time if the elf asks for clarification."

Gloria didn't think twice. "I just want to ask about the academy. At the New Year's ball I was so busy showing him my collections that I forgot to ask about the school itself. I don't even know its name, location, or what we'll study. Father never gave me an orientation guide or anything. I don't even know when classes start!"

The knight seized on only one point. "School? You're going to school?"

"Yes, I just said so clearly enough." She turned on her side, half her face pressing into the pillow. "Elstar, you've been off all day. Didn't you sleep well?"

He didn't answer. His knee jutted slightly forward as he crouched. Her golden hair, with her movement, cascaded over the side of the chair, stopping just above his silver knee-guard. Close, yet not close enough. His hand rested on his knee. One casual twitch of his fingers, and he could touch the hair he'd been aching for.

Those soft curls bounced with her breathing, catching the sunlight in fractured gold. The Pearl of Sessel. Irresistible. He still didn't know why his mother, Isabella, had suddenly ordered him to protect this human princess. But he had to admit—this pearl was crafted precisely to his tastes. His gloved fingers traced slow circles on his knee armor, the cold metal cooling the heat rising in his blood. Slowly, he stood and stepped back. Not yet. Fleeting pleasure couldn't satisfy a dragon. He wanted everything. So he would wait.

---

"Elstar!" The princess's patience had run out. "If you're unwell, tell me directly and I'll let you rest. But you cannot keep drifting off in front of me as if I don't exist. Once more, and I'll punish you."

"My apologies, Your Highness. I was merely thinking about where the elf might attend school and failed to answer promptly." His voice was low, slightly muffled by the helmet. His words were respectful, but his tone carried a lazy, almost casual air—quite unlike the cowering deference of ordinary servants. A more observant noble might have noticed. Gloria, who rarely bothered with servants, did not.

She forgave him easily. "So do you have an answer?"

"If I'm not mistaken, there is only one academy within Sessel's borders capable of accommodating an elf from Pudasino, a wolf from the distant East, and a human princess. That would be Clavia Magic Academy."

"A magic academy?" Gloria sat bolt upright, pointing incredulously at herself. "Me? At a magic academy?" She was a hundred percent pure human. On her eleventh birthday she'd half-expected an owl with a letter—but no magic-related miracle had ever happened to her. This knight was completely unreliable. "Forget it. Just go fetch Cui. If he's busy, ask when he'll be free. I can go find him instead."

Elstar felt a surge of displeasure. A dragon had been doubted. He narrowed his eyes, dark gold rippling deep within them, a low, bubbling growl almost escaping his throat. But when he spoke, his voice was as slow and unhurried as ever. "Your Highness, please trust my answer. We don't need to consult the elf to verify it."

A dragon's possessiveness was terrifying. Even though Gloria didn't belong to him, he couldn't stand her attention being elsewhere. That unfinished dance with Cui. Gareth's suspiciously generous free time. All of it—noise to be cleared. Only Gloria. Only him.

---

"For me to trust you, you need to make sense," Gloria said. She spread her soft, pale hands, her fingertips faintly pink. "I have absolutely no magic talent. Unless I'm some late bloomer whose rare gift finally awakened in adulthood?"

She was half-joking. As a child, the King had summoned countless healers to treat her illness. Once, a mysterious sorceress had come—a pointed hat, a red cloak, only her fingers visible around a crystal staff. Gloria had thought her impossibly cool and dreamed of becoming a sorceress herself. Reality, however, was that she had no magical talent whatsoever. Gareth had inherited their father's swordsmanship. She seemed to be merely the most ordinary of human princesses.

But today, hope stirred again. She'd already experienced the impossible—transmigration. What if she was some age-gated magical prodigy after all? She gazed at Elstar with shining golden eyes.

The i***t knight demolished her hopes with blunt honesty. "No. You are not a magical prodigy."

Gloria slumped back into her chair, covering her face with her handkerchief. She was going to sulk now.

Elstar was baffled. The conversation had been going fine. Why had she stopped talking? He still had much to say—including a secret only a dragon could see, one that would surely fascinate her. If she were fascinated, she'd grant him his reward sooner. He'd save that secret for a better moment. For now, he cast one more furtive glance at the golden hair before forcing his gaze away. "Your Highness?"

"Hm?" Her voice was muffled and defeated—but she was still listening.

"Clavia Magic Academy isn't limited to students with magical talent. Your brother, Crown Prince Gareth, has fine swordsmanship—he'd qualify for the swordsmanship track. The academy comprises three towers: Light, Warrior, and Mage. Beyond magic and martial talent, there's a third type of student admitted to the Tower of Light. That would be your path."

"So I'd enter the Tower of Light?"

"Yes. Each tower offers two disciplines. After choosing a primary focus, students may add a secondary in later years." He focused the discussion on the Tower of Light. "The disciplines are Theology and Divination. In earlier times, Theology focused solely on healing and blessings channeled from the God of Light. Now, with more diverse student faiths, instruction is tailored by different mentors. For example, an elven theology student would be taught by the Elf King of Pudasino, Lancelot himself."

Gloria jolted upright. "The Elf King personally teaches? He's that approachable?" Could she choose him as her mentor?

"He once taught at the Mage Tower, before becoming king." Elstar, seeing exactly where her thoughts were headed, dragged out his next words with malicious pleasure. "However..." He proceeded to slander Lancelot without a flicker of shame. "His courses are brutal. Mountains of assignments. Even the most gifted elves lose sleep over his exams."

Gloria recoiled. "Never mind, then." She had no desire to relive her past life's misery of all-night study sessions. She preferred sleeping early, rising late, and being the healthiest little slacker alive.

"What about the great dragon Isabella?" she asked. "Would she teach a course for those who follow the dragon faith?"

"No, she would not." Elstar had no qualms about exposing his own mother. "She skipped nearly every class. Getting her diploma was a miracle. She shouldn't be unleashed on students."

Gloria stared. Was it really wise to speak of a dragon like that? She sighed. "If I really could enter the Tower of Light, I might have chosen to follow dragons. Claiming faith in a real, living dragon with wings that blot out the sky is far more thrilling than worshiping some intangible God of Light."

Elstar was puzzled. "I thought human nobles—especially your royal family—all worshiped the God of Light."

"Most do, true." But that very God of Light had cursed her with a frail body that required two hours of daily sun just to avoid coughing, skin pain, and sleeplessness. How could she possibly worship with any sincerity? But such blasphemous thoughts couldn't be spoken aloud, even to a loyal knight. She shrugged vaguely. "I just like dragons, that's all."