Later that day, Serenil sat with Professor Elrick in the Office of Diplomatic Ethics. The old professor, once an ambassador to the Dragon Courts, looked at him thoughtfully over steepled fingers.
"Marriage is never just marriage when politics are involved," he said. "You've just become the hinge of a door many would like shut… or broken."
Serenil didn't flinch. "I understand, professor."
"Do you? You've tied your name to the Beastkin Confederacy. Many here—nobles, families, merchants—don't forgive allegiances lightly. Already, whispers claim you've sided with 'animals.' That you're turning your back on the old bloodlines."
Serenil's jaw tightened. "Let them whisper."
Professor Elrick smiled sadly. "Steel doesn't fear rust. But rust spreads."
By evening, the elite Student Council summoned Serenil for a private audience.
In the marble chamber known as the Whispering Vault, seven elite students sat in a crescent—heirs of major houses, descendants of generals, archmages, and high priests.
Lady Ines Vaelthorn, chairwoman and daughter of the Prime Seer, regarded Serenil with a gaze that pierced through skin and soul. "We hear you've been... negotiating alliances outside our borders."
"It was not my choice," Serenil replied evenly.
"Even worse," muttered Lord Dareth Crowley, whose family controlled most of the capital's grain supply. "You didn't consult anyone."
"I wasn't aware I needed your permission," Serenil said coolly.
"Don't be flippant," Ines said. "Your marriage impacts regional balance. Faeloria isn't just your bloodline—it's ours too. That engagement places our kingdom's future in Beastkin hands."
Serenil's voice sharpened. "No. It places our future alongside them."
There was a moment of silence.
Then Ines smiled. "We'll be watching. Closely. Pray your alliance is worth it."
As he exited, Peter was waiting by the pillars, arms crossed. "They're scared."
"They should be," Serenil said. "Because I won't let them manipulate me."
Peter grinned. "Good. Because this? This is the first move in a very long game."