“Of course my father will pay,” Mika said, absolutely confident, absolutely lying.

  The caravan master squinted at her—at him—with that slow, suspicious look that meant trouble. His arms folded over his chest, thick as fence posts. “You got a seal?”

  Mika fished it from her pocket with a dramatic little flick, like she was already bored of this conversation. “Family crest and all. House Veyne. Western Territories. You’ve heard of us.”

  She let the words hang in the air like she expected a drumroll. Noble kids always sounded like that—like the world should catch up to them, not the other way around.

  Then she sighed, just enough to make it seem like she was being generous.

  “I guess I can write an extra line in the letter to Father, if you want your name included when he rewards everyone who helped me get to the Academy.”

  That sealed it. Literally.

  The wax on the seal had gone a bit soft from spending three days in her sock, but nobody noticed. Or cared. It looked official enough.

  With that, Mika secured a spot in the nicest wagon. Cushioned seat. Two hot meals a day. Shade, space, and no walking from Ridgewatch to Lalehan.

  Not bad for a girl from Ravenna with a stolen identity, no last name, and exactly zero backup plans.

  The trip inland was slow, dusty, and full of people who didn't know how to shut up. The merchants wouldn’t stop talking—about tariffs, border routes, livestock prices like they were high art. The guards kept offering to “sharpen her sword” or “train together sometime.”

  One old woman handed her a pear and asked gently if Mika was traveling to “find a bride.”

  Mika smiled politely and replied, “My father prefers I focus on my studies first.”

  She slept with one eye open. Ate like she was used to being served. Flashed the Veyne seal every time someone looked a little too long.

  And when the caravan finally rolled into the city gates of Lalehan, she dismounted with the posture of someone who had a bloodline older than the flagstones she walked on.

  Inside?

  Every muscle in her body screamed. Her tail had a knot in it from being tightly bound for too long. Her back ached from holding the noble-boy posture. Her ears were smashed flat under that idiotic hat. And she was starting to hate rich people with a kind of passion that felt way too real for someone pretending to be one.

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  Also, the boots were too tight.

  So, naturally, the first thing she did was vanish down an alley.

  Boots: gone.

  Cloak: gone.

  Hat: shredded.

  Her ears snapped back to full height like coiled springs. Her tail flopped out behind her with a groan of protest, then immediately puffed up from sheer relief.

  “Never again,” Mika muttered, yanking off the velvet doublet and tossing it into a trash heap. “No more nobles. No more boys. No more—” she sniffed herself and gagged “—velvet.”

  She stretched, scratched behind one ear, and took a deep breath of the city air. Lalehan stank of horse, baked bread, and ambition. But it was honest stink. Better than cologne and lies.

  She used most of the stolen gold—picked from a silk purse back in Ridgewatch—to pay for a room at a polished inn a few streets from the Academy gates. Not the fanciest one, but nice enough to look legitimate. She tipped in advance and smiled with the calm of someone who always belonged in inns like this.

  The innkeeper raised an eyebrow at her tattered scarf and windblown hair. “Long ride?” he asked, not quite convinced.

  “Merchant caravan,” she said, rolling her eyes like it was beneath her. “Dust everywhere.”

  He grunted and handed her a key.

  She locked the door behind her, barred the windows, and took the longest bath she'd had in years.

  Which was also the first bath she'd had in years.

  She scrubbed until her skin was pink. Until the grime behind her ears disappeared and her claws looked vaguely respectable again. Then she raided the room’s complimentary bread basket, curled up in the soft, lumpy bed, and passed out with the smell of real soap still clinging to her hair.

  She didn’t sleep with a knife in her hand.

  Just under the pillow.

  Just in case.

  The next morning, Mika marched up to the Grand Academy’s outer courtyard clean, fed, and wearing her best imitation of confidence. Her tail was fluffy, her scarf was tied just right, and she’d even swiped a coat from someone’s laundry line that made her look at least Academy-adjacent.

  The gates loomed tall and gleaming. The stone was pale and perfect, probably scrubbed by people paid to worship the floor. Flags flew high overhead—each one embroidered with the crest of a province, a kingdom, a noble house. Mika didn’t recognize most of them, but they sure liked to remind people where they came from.

  She walked right up to the front, planted her boots like she owned the place, and declared, “I’m here for the entrance exams.”

  The guards didn’t move.

  One of them, old as stone and twice as grumpy, didn’t even look up. “Come back tomorrow.”

  Mika blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “Entrance exam window opens at sunrise tomorrow. No early admissions. No special exceptions. Not even for royalty.”

  “I came all the way from Ravenna.”

  He shrugged. “As did the sun.”

  “I had to wear a hat.”

  Nothing.

  “I ate velvet soup.”

  He looked at her. Just looked. Flat and unimpressed.

  “You’re really gonna make me wait?”

  He gave a slow, deliberate nod.

  Mika stared at him. Then spun on her heel and walked away before she did something very, very stupid.

  A few blocks down, she found a tavern with broken chairs, loud music, and a bartender who didn’t ask for names. The kind of place that took your coin, gave you meat and bread, and didn’t care who you were pretending to be.

  She dropped the last of her stolen gold on the counter, ordered the spiciest, cheapest thing on the menu, and found a corner table to sulk in peace.

  Steam rose from her bowl. Meat-adjacent. Possibly lizard. Possibly rat. She didn’t care.

  She exhaled into it, fingers laced around the sides.

  “Tomorrow,” she said quietly into the steam, “I stop pretending.”

  Then she added, just to herself, with a crooked smile—

  “And maybe make a real name for myself while I’m at it.”