"I know that," Julius responded with patience. "But that was my question, can we handle the dirty games or an internal war again?"

Selphira looked toward where Ren and Luna were being congratulated by a tide of students who wanted to express admiration or curry favor. The way they remained close to each other in the crowd.

The way Luna's expression, even while responding politely to congratulations, kept returning to Ren like a compass finding north.

"Yes," she said finally with confidence born from centuries of reading people and situations. "And I won't leave them alone to face it, so... I believe they can handle what comes if they stay together."

Julius nodded, accepting her evaluation without further argument.

Because Selphira had seen many things in her extraordinarily long life. Had witnessed alliances form and shatter under pressure. Had seen loves flourish and then wither when tested by reality.

And she knew how to recognize when something was genuine and worth protecting rather than political convenience masquerading as connection.

Knew when something was good enough to bet on despite risks involved.

Worth fighting for.

These kids had something real that couldn't be faked or manufactured through political arrangement.

If they were given a chance to grow without being crushed by those who feared change.

If they were protected just enough without overprotection that would cripple their development.

This was the best chance to forge for their future…

If the right balance could be found between intervention that prevented catastrophe and allowing them to fight their own battles.

Selphira had nurtured many, and the last failure had shown her she wasn't infallible… not at all. Yet although she failed with Leonel, she had many more successes than failures. Nobody is perfect, but the one who has failed and knows how to look themselves in the mirror is the one who has the least chance of making the same mistake again.

It was a delicate line to walk, a narrow path between extremes.

But Selphira had walked many more delicate lines over her extraordinarily long life. Had done good for tons of people she cared about. Had learned through many painful experiences around where that balance point existed between too much help and too little.

And she didn't plan to let these children fall when she'd invested so much in their potential.

Not when they represented the best hope for a more stable future than the current generation had managed to create.

Not when they'd already proven possessing the fundamental qualities to be exactly the type of leaders the next generation needed, strong enough to protect but compassionate enough to care about those they protected.

♢♢♢♢

But not everyone in the audience shared the positive sentiment that Reed, Fern, Selphira and Julius were experiencing while watching the dance's conclusion.

In another section reserved for high-ranking nobles with influence that came from old money and older connections, several faces were progressively losing color with each perfect score the different judges announced.

Lord Baelthon observed with an expression growing increasingly grim as reality became impossible to deny. His hand gripped his chair's armrest with enough force to leave visible marks.

"Another exam destroyed," he murmured to Lord Aldric seated beside him. "Another competition crushed like it was nothing."

"There's no salvation left," Lord Aldric responded in an equally defeated tone, his own expression reflecting the crushing sense of failure both felt watching all their plans collapse. "They're deluding themselves if they think the war exam will be different with that monster participating... And even if he performs poorly in it, it's no longer sufficient to change any outcomes. Those brats have their rewards secured. Highest ranking in final classifications. Access to resources that come with that position. Everything... They took absolutely everything."

His voice contained a weirdly soft bitterness, as if he had given up long ago.

They'd planned extensively with resources most families couldn't spare. They'd invested considerable wealth in arrangements and bribes.

And two fifth-year students had bulldozed through those plans like they didn't exist, like all that effort and money meant nothing in the face of their overwhelming talent and determination.

"And what's worse," Lady Morgain added from the seat behind them, voice sharp with frustration that made several nearby nobles turn to look at the breach of decorum, "they're together now... Allied. Patinder and Starweaver working in coordination."

The silence that followed her declaration was heavy.

Because an alliance between two talented students was one thing that could be managed or disrupted.

But this felt different... This felt like an alliance between two great houses being forged before their eyes, the foundation being laid for a power structure that would reshape the political landscape forever.

"No," Lord Baelthon corrected with a harsher bitterness that stained every word he spoke. "It's not only a political or academic alliance between convenient partners. Look at them closely... Look at how they watch each other."

Several nobles followed his gaze toward where Ren and Luna were being congratulated by a tide of other students seeking favor or expressing genuine admiration. The way their fingers had subtly intertwined in the crowd despite being surrounded by observers. The way Luna leaned slightly toward Ren like unconsciously seeking his presence for comfort or reassurance.

Small gestures that spoke volumes…

"There's true romance developing there," Lord Baelthon continued with a tone suggesting he'd just diagnosed a terminal illness rather than observing some teenage attraction.

The worst realization.

Because romance between Ren Patinder, the boy who'd literally emerged from nothing to dominate, and Luna Starweaver, heir to faction with extensive political connections and access to resources most could only dream about… meant something far more dangerous than a simple friendship that could be worked around.

It meant they would fight them at the same time.

It meant that the plans these nobles had made stretching years into the future, arranged marriages, commercial alliances, political positions secured through careful negotiation… were crumbling before their eyes like sand castles at high tide.

"What do we do?" Lady Morgain asked, looking to the other nobles like seeking answers nobody actually possessed. "How do we handle this now?"

Lord Baelthon shook his head slowly with movement that spoke of man who'd already accepted defeat. "I don't know if there's anything we can do at this point. Not directly without triggering responses we can't handle anymore..."

"Then indirectly," Lord Aldric suggested, a man grasping at a last desperate option. "Orion's plan is our final hope for salvaging something from this disaster."

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