Chapter 8
After forcing herself to listen to the unnecessarily long-winded speech delivered by the unenthusiastic principal, Katharina felt drained. The awareness of her colossal mistake loomed over every thought and she could feel her knees begin to shake.
Nonetheless, she had no choice but to engage in friendly conversation with the thankfully low number of young high-born aristocrats who approached her. She did not even try to work on any relationships, recognizing that her mind was not in the right space for positive socializing.
She needed to come up with a plan to handle the Hohenfels situation, and fast.
Two of her potential courses of action had dissolved into thin air. Ignoring Prince Arnold was off the table for obvious reasons, and so was trying to undermine his relationship with other high houses. That was a battlefield she had absolutely no place on, lest her entire family be crushed in the relentless mills of politics.
Thus, she was left with only one option: Trying to get into his good graces. A daunting prospect considering she knew absolutely nothing about him besides his ability to run circles around her in polite conversation.
When she finally managed to escape from the great hall, she dodged the groups of minor nobles littering the plaza, hurried to her dorm as fast as her formal dress allowed, and locked herself into her room.
She needed a plan.
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Arne sat on the bench in his library niche, the blank blade of his saber resting against his cheek. He reveled in the soothing quiet, finally able to breathe again.