Chapter 830 - 829- Academy’s Premises

Chapter 830: Chapter 829- Academy’s Premises

Her body, naked and spread, bounced on the seat. Her breasts, heavy and full, swung. Her belly, soft and round, quivered. Her thighs, thick and trembling, shook. Her pussy, wet and swollen, gripped his cock.

She screamed. Filling the carriage. Filling the night. The sound, carrying through the windows, through the walls, reached the driver. The horses. The street.

The people of the capital, walking in the rain, heard the screams. And they knew, without knowing, what was happening in the carriage that rolled past them. The sounds of a woman being fucked. Being claimed. Being owned.

She screamed. And screamed. And screamed.

The carriage rolled on.

The academy fair.

The grounds, sprawling and manicured, were filled with stalls and displays. Students, in their uniforms, moved between booths. The noise, the chatter, the laughter of youth, filled the air. The sun, bright and warm, shone through the scattered clouds.

Elena Heartfield stood at her stall. Her table, covered in enchanted trinkets and magical devices, was organized. Neat. The arrangement, precise and deliberate, reflected her personality.

Her hand, holding a pendant, trembled.

The pendant, a small crystal on a silver chain, was shattered. The crystal, cracked down the center, was dark. The enchantment, broken, had failed. The mana, depleted, was gone.

’Shit.’

She stared at the pendant. The crystal, catching the sunlight, showed the crack. A thin, jagged line that ran from top to bottom. The structure, compromised, had given way. The enchantment, too powerful for the housing, had shattered the crystal from inside.

’I gave half of my monthly allowance for this.’ The thought, bitter and furious, burned behind her eyes. ’Half. And it failed.’

She set the pendant down. Her hand, still trembling, went to her mouth. Her teeth, biting the nail of her index finger, were the teeth of a woman thinking. Planning. Seething.

’Viktor has arrived in the capital.’

The intelligence, gathered through her network, was reliable. He was here. In the city. The man who had escaped her. The man who had evaded her carefully laid traps. The man who had vanished like smoke and reappeared, impossibly, in the place she least expected.

’I planned the trajectory. I calculated the routes. I mapped the possibilities. He should not have been able to escape. And yet he did. Somehow.’

She bit the nail harder. The edge, jagged, tore. The pain, sharp and minor, was ignored.

’How? How did he escape? Who helped him? What am I missing?’

Her eyes, venomous and sharp, swept the fairgrounds. The students, the stalls, the displays. Her gaze, predatory and searching, looked for something. Someone.

Her eyes found the distance.

A girl stood there. Tall. Horned. The horns, curved and polished, caught the sunlight. Her body, half-human and half-bovine, was visible beneath her uniform. The legs, digitigrade and furred from the knee down. The tail, long and tufted, swishing behind her. The ears, large and expressive, flicking with each sound.

Sofia. The half-cow, half-human girl. The commoner who had somehow, impossibly, entered Class A. The girl with the impossible mana reserves and the inexplicable talent.

She stood, talking with other young women. Her manner, open and friendly, was everything that Elena was not. Her smile, wide and genuine, was the smile of a girl who didn’t know she was supposed to be ashamed of what she was.

Elena’s jaw clenched.

’Bitch.’

The thought, hot and venomous, was instantaneous.

’I am going to show you what it feels like. Hell. I am going to show you what it means to stand in my way. What it means to be in Class A when you are nothing. When you are a commoner. When you are a...’

The memory came. Unbidden. Unwanted.

The night. The corridor. The cracked door. The sounds. The wet, slapping sounds of flesh on flesh. The moans. The screams. The voice, deep and male, that she recognized. The voice that belonged to the man her mother had brought home.

Viktor.

She had covered her mouth. Had stood, frozen, behind the cracked door. Had watched, through the gap, as Viktor had fucked her mother. On the bed. Against the wall. On the floor. Her mother, screaming and moaning and begging. Her mother, who was supposed to be dignified and composed and in control. Her mother, reduced to a screaming, cum-leaking, eye-rolling mess.

The nightmare. The memory that haunted her. That kept her awake at night. That made her bite her nails until they bled.

Her jaw tightened. Her teeth, grinding, made a sound in her skull.

’I am going to destroy him. I am going to destroy everything he cares about. I am going to make him pay for what he did to my mother. For what he made me watch. For what he made me...’

"Is everything all right, Lady Elena?"

The voice, gentle and warm, cut through the spiral of venom.

She turned.

The young man stood there. Blond hair, perfectly styled. Blue eyes, clear and kind. His posture, straight and regal, was the posture of a man who had been raised to rule. His uniform, immaculate, bore the crest of the royal family. His smile, warm and concerned, was the smile of a prince who had been taught to charm.

Crown Prince Leo.

Elena’s body, on instinct, performed. The bow, the curtsy, the composed expression. The mask of a noble woman in the presence of royalty.

"Greetings, your majesty," she said. Her voice, smooth and controlled, gave nothing away. "Lord Leo."

The prince smiled. The expression, warm and genuine, was the expression of a young man who was not yet corrupted by the weight of the crown he would one day wear.

"Lord Leo" he repeated, amused. "You are formal today, Lady Elena."

"One must be formal in the presence of the future king," she said. The words, practiced and polished, were automatic.

The prince laughed. The sound, light and genuine, was the laugh of a boy who found formality amusing.

"Come now," he said. "We are classmates. You do not need to be so formal."