Chapter 267: Treacherous Visitor

The door opened, and Professor Oliver stepped through.

“Oliver,” Cecilia greeted the duelling instructor. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Oliver gave a small nod before glancing towards Noah, who was now sitting on the bed, all traces of the earlier transformation gone.

“Headmaster’s orders,” Oliver said finally. “I’m here to retrieve you, Professor. You have a visitor waiting.”

Cecilia frowned. “A visitor? At this hour?”

“Apparently, an important one.” His gaze shifted briefly to Noah again. “He wants to see you specifically.”

Cecilia turned back to Noah, her eyes softening. “Rest. Don’t push yourself too far.”

“I’ll be fine,” Noah said.

She nodded, then followed Oliver out, closing the door behind her.

They walked in silence down the corridor, before exiting the infirmary.

Outside, the moon was still hidden behind a carpet of clouds, occasionally peeking through and sending its light down to earth.

Oliver finally broke the silence. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with that boy.”

Cecilia didn’t look at him. “He’s my student.”

“He’s also dangerous,” Oliver said plainly. “You know what he experienced during his time at the Investigation Authority. And he walked out of that without showing more than temporary insanity. That’s not normal.”

“Neither is anyone here,” she replied calmly. “We’re all dangerous, Oliver. Some of us just hide it better.”

Oliver frowned. “That may be true, but Noah isn’t like the others. There’s something different about him.”

Cecilia’s steps slowed, but she didn’t stop. “You’re not wrong. But power isn’t the same as intent. Noah is the same as you and I, Oliver. A fellow mage.”

“And if you’re wrong?”

“Then I’ll handle it.”

Oliver stopped walking, turning to face her. His expression softened. “You’ve always had a way of believing in the broken ones. I just don’t want it to cost you this time.”

She smiled faintly, tired but kind. “I appreciate your concern. But I’ve seen what despair does to people. If I can stop him from falling into it, I will.”

Oliver sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know, I trust you, Cecilia. I always have. But be careful. You’ve already lost too much to this… war.”

“I will,” she said quietly.

They reached the central tower soon after.

“This is where I leave you,” Oliver said. “The visitor’s waiting at the top. I wasn’t told who.”

Cecilia nodded. “Thank you.”

She stepped inside, and made her way to the lift. Soon, she was making her way upwards.

When the lift finally stopped at the top floor, she stepped out into a long hallway leading to the principal’s office.

The door to the office stood slightly ajar, light spilling out into the corridor.

Cecilia hesitated for a moment before knocking lightly.

“Enter,” came an unfamiliar male voice from within.

She pushed the door open and stepped inside.

It was not the principal waiting for her.

The man sitting behind the large oak desk wore a dark suit. His salt and pepper hair was swept neatly back, and he had a confident look in his eyes.

“Professor Cecilia Pendragon,” he said with a pleasant smile. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “First Premier Ramsay.”

Thomas Ramsay gestured towards the seat opposite him. “Please, sit. I imagine this must be unexpected.”

“It is,” she said, remaining where she stood. “May I ask what brings the First Premier to the academy in the middle of the night?”

He chuckled lightly, reaching for a teapot on the desk. “Routine formality, I assure you. Nothing sinister. Tea?”

She hesitated, then sat, nodding once. “Thank you.”

He poured her a cup and slid it across the desk. The steam rose in thin trails, carrying the scent of herbs.

“This is part of an old royal protocol,” he continued conversationally. “Whenever a member of the royal family passes, representatives of the nobility are required to visit the surviving kin. A symbolic gesture of unity, you might say. You, being a Pendragon by birth, fall under that category.”

“I’ve been under house restriction for years,” she replied. “Hardly what one would call a member of the royal family anymore.”

Thomas smiled faintly. “Still, blood is blood. The kingdom remembers its own.”

She took the cup, not drinking. “And what exactly do you need from me?”

“Nothing at all, Professor,” he said smoothly. “Only to deliver news and a message.”

She frowned. “A message?”

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a sealed envelope, placing it gently on the table between them. The wax seal bore the Pendragon crest.

“A letter from king Cillian,” he said softly. “He instructed that it be delivered to you in the event of his death.”

Cecilia froze. Her fingers trembled slightly as she looked at the envelope.

“What could he possibly have to say to me now…” she murmured, more to herself than to him.

Thomas leaned back in his chair, watching her with polite curiosity. “Perhaps closure,” he offered. “The king always spoke of you fondly, even after you were exiled to the academy.”

Her jaw tightened. “Is that all?”

“Not quite,” he said. “I also bring good news. Princess Ines has awakened. Her condition is stable.”

Cecilia’s breath caught. “She’s awake?”

He nodded. “Yes. Earlier this evening. It seems the physicians were mistaken in their fears.”

Cecilia nodded,. feeling a weight lift off her shoulders. “Thank the stars.”

Thomas smiled, the picture of warmth. “I thought you’d be relieved.”

He took another sip of tea, then said, almost casually, “There’s also the matter of the royal funeral. As a member of the Pendragon line, you’re required to attend.”

Her gaze snapped back to him. “I’m not interested.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You misunderstand. This isn’t a request. It’s tradition. Every surviving member of the royal bloodline must stand in attendance when a Pendragon is buried.”

“I told you,” she said, her voice hard, “I want nothing to do with the court or its politics.”

Thomas chuckled softly. “There’s no trick here, Professor. I assure you. It’s royal protocol, that’s all. Every generation of your family has followed it. Even those who swore to stay away.”

Her eyes narrowed. “And Ines? Is she aware I’ll be forced to attend?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned forward, his tone lowering, becoming almost gentle. “You’ve been in this academy for how many years now? Ten? Twelve?”

“Fifteen,” she said flatly.

“Fifteen,” he repeated, nodding slowly. “All that time, and you’ve never once stepped beyond its gates.”

“Not for festivals, not for ceremonies, not even for your brother’s coronation. Don’t you ever wonder what’s become of the palace? The gardens you played in as a child? The old library where you used to read?”

Cecilia’s expression stiffened.

“The city has changed. The palace too. Wouldn’t you like to see it again? Just once?”

He leaned forward.

“Tell me, Professor,” he said softly, “would you not regret it if you turned down this opportunity?”

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