They had just finished dinner, and Ronan was actively ignoring Darius. The necromancer was trying to emulate his lady from the early weeks at the academy, when she brilliantly avoided him.

  The problem was that Darius was much more persistent than Ronan. Or rather, instead of coming up with another way to get what he wanted and stopping his pursuit, he just kept walking beside him, repeatedly asking him to summon the bear.

  "Come on, don’t be like that. Let me ride it."

  Ronan quickened his pace and pretended not to hear him. However, Darius had more agility and constitution than he did, so not only did he fail to leave him behind, but he also ended up out of breath, running straight into Vincent as he rounded a hallway corner.

  "Sorry, Ronan. Are you alright?" the prince asked, sounding concerned.

  And that was after Ronan had already been getting sunlight and eating well. Still, he hadn’t fully shaken off the effects of malnutrition. Although it had been reduced to a low level and only accounted for 10% of his constitution points, the rounding still caused him to lose one point of health.

  "Vincent, tell him to let me ride the bear," the redhead pleaded as soon as he saw him.

  "You’re still on about that?"

  "Of course. It must be awesome," he shrugged with a grin.

  Vincent sighed and turned back to Ronan.

  "Honestly, my friend, if you want him to leave you alone, you might have to promise that you’ll let him ride it someday."

  "Why not now?" Darius protested.

  "Not now," Vincent replied firmly.

  "Yes, I’m fine," Ronan finally answered the prince’s first question. "And Darius, maybe I’ll let you someday, but only if the bear agrees to it."

  "Great, thanks!" Darius said enthusiastically, stopping his hand mid-motion as he was about to give Ronan a friendly pat on the back.

  Right—he had almost killed him once…

  "Ronan, can we go somewhere quieter? There’s something I’d like to ask you," the prince requested.

  They were standing in the middle of the hallway, in the male dormitory area, where other students occasionally passed by.

  "I was heading to my room, but I don’t know if Damien’s there. Want me to check?"

  "No, let’s go to mine. It’s more spacious, has a sitting area, and since I don’t share it with anyone, we’ll have privacy."

  "It has a sitting area?" Ronan asked, surprised.

  "Perks of being a prince," Darius said. "I have to share mine too, and I don’t have those luxuries. Lily has the same kind of room, and she hosts tea parties there with her friends."

  "And my lady has to share?" Ronan asked, puzzled.

  "Your ‘lady’—and I still don’t get why you insist on calling her that—is the daughter of a count. That’s just how things are, Ronan."

  "Sharing a room isn’t so bad if you’re with a friend," the redhead interjected. "Alistair and Theodore could’ve had single rooms, but they preferred to stay together."

  "It’s late. Let’s go," the prince urged, picking up the pace as he led them to his room, which wasn’t far.

  Once inside, the three of them sat on the upholstered chairs in the sitting area.

  "Alright, Ronan. I wanted to ask you about that elite chest boss—the one whose massive pincer I saw in the chamber after we all entered. Since your bear was inside, and I saw in the dungeon that you can communicate with your skeletons, maybe the bear told you something?"

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Ronan nodded.

  "I can communicate with any of my creatures, but not with words. It’s on a deeper level—I receive feelings and images."

  "So, did your bear manage to tell you anything before it died?"

  "Or summon it now, ask it, and let me ride it while you’re at it," the redhead chimed in again.

  "Right here?" Ronan questioned. "With its size, it could damage this delicate room."

  A carved wooden coffee table with four decorative, not sturdy, legs. Upholstered chairs. Shelves with glass doors displaying bottles of non-alcoholic drinks… Ronan was certain his bear would destroy something even if it barely moved. He didn’t see a single clear spot where he could summon it.

  "No, not here," the prince quickly cut in, shooting Darius an exasperated look.

  "It’s not necessary to summon it," Ronan continued. "It did tell me how the battle went: the sensation of wounds that don’t hurt but still tear through undead flesh. A monstrously large scorpion. More wounds for the bear. Loss of body parts. The fight continues. The scorpion stops moving. That’s all it could share with me. I thanked it for its help, its bravery, and its sacrifice. It told me it had fun—that it was a good fight."

  Vincent fell into deep thought, and Ronan studied him. Sitting across from the prince, the necromancer tilted his head slowly from side to side, inspecting him as if he were a horse he wasn’t sure whether to buy. In this case, he was assessing a human who might be suitable to join his lady’s future army.

  Ronan considered the prince to be intelligent, resourceful, and a good leader. He also had charisma—the troops would follow him well. When he shifted slightly, as if preparing to get up and inspect him more closely, the prince, looking uncomfortable, stopped him.

  "Ronan, what are you doing?"

  "I was just checking if you’d be a good fit for my lady."

  "What?" Darius burst out laughing.

  Vincent extended a hand toward him, signaling him to be quiet.

  "That… unfortunate conversation when Bianca opened the chest—I want to make sure you understand that there is no way I’m going to be king. Which means, under no circumstances, will I be engaged to your lad— I mean, Bianca," he corrected himself, running a hand over his face.

  Ronan thought that slip—almost saying ‘your lady’—was very telling. Vincent might be willing to call her that too. He didn’t realize the prince’s frustration was more about being annoyed with himself for the verbal slip, caused by constantly hearing Ronan call her "my lady."

  "Yes, don’t worry. My lady is free to marry whomever she wishes."

  "Alright, thanks for your help, Ronan. If you don’t mind, let’s wrap this up—it’s late, and I’m sure you both want to get some rest."

  He stood up and walked them to the door, where the three of them said their goodbyes. Darius headed to his room, and Ronan to his.

  Thankfully, Darius didn’t say another word about the bear and let Ronan go without chasing him.

  When the necromancer opened his door, he saw his roommate inside, studying.

  Perfect. They had unfinished business.

  He locked the door behind him.

  The prince no longer knew what to think. What he was sure of was that he could not imagine how a zombie bear, no matter how large, could stand against a scorpion that had to be massively bigger. Or at least, if that pincer they had found was proportional to the rest of the creature’s body.

  He knew Ronan had an area-of-effect exhaust spell. But he had not asked if he used it, because even with that help, he could not figure out how the bear alone could have handled a boss that no one saw and that dropped a legendary chest.

  Ah, sorry—not alone… with the help of a tiny puppy, barely three or four months old.

  When he had spoken with Bianca, she had hinted that she had played a role in that fight but could not tell him.

  Honestly? It hurt. He believed he had given enough of himself to his party members for them to trust him. As the leader of a dungeon party, he also needed to know exactly what he could count on in order to give better commands during battles. In fact, when he saw that Ronan’s skeletons obeyed him—possibly because their master had ordered them to—he felt relieved. He was not used to having undead in his group, and if they ever went feral or did not fully understand the necromancer’s commands, it could be a serious problem.

  He had heard of cases like that.

  However, Ronan seemed to have an unprecedented level of communication and control over his summons. Even they behaved as if they were still human. It sounded strange, but that was the impression he had gotten—especially when Joe sacrificed himself for Darius. It was as if they retained memories or echoes of emotions they had felt when they were alive. One day, he would need to discuss this with Ronan.

  Another thing he did not particularly like was not understanding why the necromancer behaved that way with Bianca—whispering to her in front of everyone and treating her with the kind of respect as if she truly were his lady.

  He had not brought up this topic with Ronan either, since he preferred for Bianca to be the one to explain it. He did not want to pressure her; he was giving her time. But if she kept hiding behind secrets and refusing to trust him, she would no longer fit into his inner circle of friends. Besides, he was part of the royal family—any promising student agreement she might have made with the headmaster and the Crown should not exclude him. Surely, if she or he asked, they would allow him to be informed. But he also wanted Bianca to take that step herself.

  He had welcomed both Bianca and Mary into his group with open arms. Mary had integrated without any problems, but Bianca…

  He sighed.

  Bianca was like a headache or an itch in the worst possible place. Strange things always happened around her, and she had behaviors that Vincent still did not understand. However, she was also like a ray of sunlight on an overcast morning. If she never truly fit into his group, he would miss her.