The Headmaster’s gaze flicked to Caelum, then back to the crowd.
“And as with all such rare developments, interest has been… considerable.”
The word landed softly.
But the room shifted—subtly, dangerously.
Lyra felt it like a change in pressure before a storm.
She turned her head just enough to look at Caelum.
He was still. Too still.
His expression had gone unreadable again—smooth, composed, the perfect mask of a man in control of everything around him.
Say something.
The thought screamed inside her skull.
Deny it. Stop this. Do anything.
The Headmaster’s voice cut through.
“Due to the exceptional nature of this anomaly, preliminary arrangements have already been made to ensure her placement reflects her… true value.”
A beat. A breath. A silence that stretched just long enough to hurt.
“She has been secured under the interest of Maximus Durian.”
The name dropped like a stone into still water. Ripples. Whispers. Recognition.
Lyra went completely still.
Adrian’s voice echoed in her memory:I have a buyer for you.
Her grip on Caelum’s arm tightened involuntarily. She looked at him fully now—waiting, desperate, searching.
This was the moment. This was where he would stop it. Where he would prove she was wrong. That every doubt, every fear, every horrible realization had been twisted by her own paranoia.
He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Didn’t even look at her. He simply stood there. Thinking. Calculating.
A single, devastating pause.
And in that pause something inside her broke clean in two. Because if he loved her—he would have stopped it already. He would have said something. Anything. But he didn’t.
Her voice came out quieter than she expected. “Caelum…”
He exhaled slowly. Finally. His gaze shifted—not to her, but to the Headmaster.
“This wasn’t the arrangement.”
The words were calm. Controlled. Cold.
Lyra felt them like a physical blow.
Notno. Notshe’s not for sale. Notstop this.
Just—This wasn’t the arrangement.
