"Just trying to make sure you don't drown," Bella Coren remarked casually. "I heard you wanted to see me, Headmaster." Instead of taking a chair, she perched herself on Patrick's desk. The Vice Principal crossed her legs, her elegant curves subtly visible beneath her long dress. Even such formal attire couldn't conceal her captivating figure. "You couldn't have picked a worse time. Lunch is a battlefield, and those kids won't give up their seats for an old lady like me."

  "You hardly look your age, Lady Coren," the Headmaster replied, busying himself with papers on his desk, deliberately avoiding her gaze. "And surely our food supplies aren't running that short."

  "Appearances deceive. In a few years, I'll be approaching sixty. Never trust a witch's exterior." She idly flipped through the book on his desk, An Elementary Treatise on Defensive Magic: Magical Barriers and Arrays, continuing, "I've been reviewing the school's financial records. While we're maintaining normal food purchases, prices have quadrupled since the kingdom sealed the capital. The students may be eating well, but I'm concerned about our treasury."

  "That's not an issue. We have emergency reserves—enough to last through winter."

  "The problem is we're already dipping into those reserves," the Vice Principal said, peering over her spectacles with grave intensity. "At this rate, we might not even reach winter."

  The Headmaster paused before sighing softly. "Don't worry, Bella. I'll find a solution." He leaned back, folding his hands in his lap. "Did you deliver my letter to Monica?"

  "I knew that's why you summoned me," Bella said smugly. "Duh. It's the Headmaster's order, I'm not going to say no." She rolled her eyes. "Honestly, is there room in your heart for anyone besides that girl?"

  Patrick Fort offered a shy smile. "I'd like to think I'm more open-minded than that. So, what did she say?"

  "She laughed like a fool—just as you're doing now."

  The young man's face brightened with anticipation. "Did she say anything else?"

  "Naturally, my dear Patrick. A girl in love never stops talking. She said you haven't written in ages, you tell me too many stories about your childhood, and that you're funnier now." She adjusted her skirt. "And then we discussed..."

  "Discussed what?" The Headmaster straightened, eager for details.

  Bella Coren ignored his question, shifting to a more somber tone. "Is this really the right approach?"

  "What?" The young man looked confused. "What do you mean?"

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  "Don't play innocent, Patrick. You know exactly what I'm referring to," the Vice Principal stated. "She asked about Cynthia's current military situation."

  "She did?" Patrick Fort half-rose from his chair. "What did you tell her?"

  "The truth," Bella replied flatly.

  "Gods above!" He collapsed back into his seat, clutching his curly hair in distress. "How could you? With Monica's temperament, she'll abandon everything and rush back here!"

  "That was indeed her first reaction," Bella replied with measured calm. "But rest assured, I convinced her to remain in Brigar for now. You should have seen her—the mere mention of 200,000 troops outside our walls sent her into a panic like a startled fawn, ready to leap back here immediately. Her impulsiveness stands in stark contrast to your composure—a concerning trait for a sorceress expected to stand independently."

  "She does tend toward emotional extremes. She's straightforward, as wild as the flames she commands." (That's precisely what draws me to her.) The Headmaster adjusted himself in his chair. "Forgive my outburst. A Headmaster should maintain better composure. Beyond the siege, did she inquire about anything else?"

  "She had a ton of questions, but the connection cut out before she could ask them," Bella said, irritation coloring her voice. "Something messed up my manipulation spell. It wasn't me, I don't screw up that badly with basic magic. Just as I prepared to answer her, a powerful force expelled me from the raven's consciousness. I still haven't determined the cause."

  "Perhaps it was Deborah," the Headmaster suggested, blinking thoughtfully. "Was she present during your conversation with Monica?"

  "No," Bella said with certainty. "She departed shortly after my arrival in Brigar. Not wanting to disturb the sleeping girl, I waited outside briefly. During that time, I witnessed Deborah leaving with my own eyes."

  "Perhaps she returned," the Headmaster theorized. "Deborah is a formidable sorceress, renowned throughout Duviliel. She might have detected your presence and cast a banishing spell, or perhaps the raven itself felt threatened and broke the connection. Either way, I doubt malicious intent was involved."

  "I'm well aware, Headmaster. You've shared enough stories about her," Bella replied haughtily. "I think your second idea is more likely. Not many mages can just break Bella Coren's spells."

  Patrick Fort couldn't suppress a smile before a brief silence fell between them. "Perhaps we should proceed to lunch?" he suggested with a gentle smile. "Surely our delightful students would spare two seats for their educators."

  "Maybe... you should tell her."

  "I should... but I can't."

  "No—you won't," Bella Coren said coldly. "Just tell her what's happening, the whole truth." She explained evenly, "You needn't elaborate extensively—just provide a basic overview of the kingdom's circumstances. Monica has always cared deeply about both you and Cynthia. Continued secrecy seems unwise; she'll inevitably discover everything."

  "And what good would telling her accomplish?" Patrick Fort challenged. "She'll insist on returning to a kingdom on the brink of war. When she arrives, she won't find you or me by her side—only death and destruction. Besides, Deborah wouldn't easily permit her departure from Duviliel..."

  "That's the arrangement you negotiated with Deborah Borealis," the Vice Principal said, shaking her head. "But do you really know what Deborah's up to? And what about the King of Brigar? Why's he collecting all those mages? What's he planning?"