STRINGS BETWEEN US

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: OF SOVEREIGN WALLS, UNSPOKEN RULES, AND THE LONELIEST ROOM

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: OF SOVEREIGN WALLS, UNSPOKEN RULES, AND THE LONELIEST ROOM IN THE TOWER

Riyee's POV

The Scholarium Wing was already swarming.

Veritas Hall barely contained the noise, with students buzzing about the latest school-wide order. Apparently, the administration had finally stopped pretending everything was fine and decided to cage us all properly.

"All students are now required to reside in their assigned campus dormitories until further notice."

Not a lockdown, they said.

Sure. And I was just here for the free room service.

I kept my head low as we made our way toward the lecture hall. Jodie and Xylia were still chatting about their new dorm assignments in Astralis Hall, while Errol grumbled about having to share a room with "loud, snoring idiots." Mico, ever the misfit who somehow slipped into KD's world, simply strolled beside us, hands in his pockets, watching the chaos with a kind of lazy detachment.

"So," Mico mused, glancing at me sideways, "you're really staying at the Sovereign Suites?"

I didn't bother responding.

But of course, Mico had no sense of self-preservation.

"Must be nice. A whole tower wing all to yourself, right next to the High Chamber," he added, smirking faintly.

I shot him a glare sharp enough to cut through steel. He just grinned wider.

"Enjoy your royal treatment, Princess."

"Call me that again," I muttered darkly, "and I'll show you where I hide my emergency scissors."

Xylia snorted. Jodie stifled a laugh.

But their dorm lives would still look normal—shared spaces, cramped rooms, noisy nights filled with whispered secrets and stolen food runs.

Meanwhile, I'd been shoved into marble isolation, parked right next to the power-hungry elite.

Great. From casual schoolgirl to political chess piece in record time. Wonder if they'll start charging me rent for breathing near the Imperium Quarter.

I slipped into my seat at Veritas Hall, tuning out the murmurs and rustle of papers, the low hum of drama always hanging in the air these days.

And then the room quieted.

Because she entered. Bianchi Madriaga.

The way the air shifted when she walked in would've been comical if it wasn't so predictable. She didn't even glance in my direction.

But I felt it.

That deliberate silence. The pointed dismissal. The kind that didn't need words. I wasn't a threat worth acknowledging. Not yet.

She made her way down the aisle like she still ruled every square inch of this academy. And for a second, I wondered if she believed it. 

By the time the lecture ended, I was already halfway out the door, counting the seconds until I could disappear into some quiet hallway—

"Ms. Del Rio."

My spine stiffened.

Her voice—so sweet, so sharp—sliced cleanly through the buzz of students packing up.

I turned slowly.

"The High Chamber would like a word," Bianchi said, her lips curved in a polite smile that didn't reach her eyes.