"Alright," I say, putting down my teacup. "Before we go anywhere with this conversation, I need to understand something."

  Enid looks at me with those earnest eyes that make me feel like a terrible person for what I'm about to ask.

  "What actually made you want to join? Like, the real reason." I lean back in my chair. "Because being annoyed with Penelope and her faction... that's normal. Most people at the Academy are pretty annoyed with them. But actively wanting to join what you think is a secret resistance movement? That's a big move from saying you're tired of being bullied to saying you're ready to commit to organized opposition."

  She fidgets with her teacup, rotating it in small circles on the saucer. "It's complicated."

  "Most things are."

  "I just... I can't keep being passive. Watching things happen around me, to me, and doing nothing." Her voice is soft, but there's a lot of strength there, too. "I need to feel like I have some control over my situation."

  That's not really an answer, and we both know it. But she's also clearly not ready to share whatever the actual reason is, and pushing too hard right now would just make her defensive.

  "Okay," I say. "I'm not going to pressure you, but just so you know, if there's something else going on, if there's something specific that's making this urgent for you, it might be relevant to whether you joining would actually help or make things worse."

  "I understand."

  "And if you do decide to tell me ter, that's fine too."

  She nods, clearly relieved that I'm not pushing too hard. Mental note: investigate this ter. Or maybe Mika already knows what's going on with Enid and just hasn't shared it. That's a conversation I need to have.

  My stomach rumbles, and I realize the croissant, while delicious, was not enough food for someone who skipped breakfast. I take another look at the menu.

  "Are you getting anything else?" I ask Enid.

  "Oh, I'm fine—"

  "Because I'm getting more food and I don't want to eat alone." I signal the server before she can protest. "What kinds of cookies do you have?"

  The server unches into a description that includes things like "vender shortbread" and "chocote with sea salt" and "honey-lemon with rosemary" and I'm mentally trying to calcute which combination will give me the best sampling of their capabilities.

  "I'll take three of each," I say.

  "Three of each type?" the server crifies.

  "Yes."

  "That's... nine cookies, miss."

  "I can count. Yes, nine cookies. And another pot of the honey-rose tea."

  Enid is staring at me. "You're going to eat nine cookies?"

  "I'm going to eat some cookies and take the rest back to my roommates to try and make up for the fight this morning. Food is always a good idea when things get rocky."

  "That's... actually thoughtful."

  "I know, right? If they're eating cookies, they can't be arguing about desk organization."

  The cookies arrive on a beautiful wooden board with three of each variety arranged in aesthetically pleasing patterns. I start with the vender shortbread, bite into it, and, okay, wow. The vender is subtle, not overpowering, and the buttery shortbread texture is perfect. It dissolves on my tongue and leaves this delicate floral aftertaste that makes me want to immediately eat the other two.

  "This is really good," I say.

  "You really seem to care a lot about food quality."

  "I spent years eating instant ramen and whatever I could afford on a tight budget. Good food is still novel enough that I appreciate it." I try the chocote sea salt next, and have to suppress making noises because the salt enhances the chocote in ways I didn't know were possible. "Also I'm a designer, so I notice when things are made well. These cookies are made well."

  Enid takes one of the honey-lemon cookies when I gesture to the board, and we eat in silence for a moment. It's almost comfortable, this shared appreciation of good baked goods, and I can see why Mika is friends with her. She's easy to be around when she's not stressed about social dynamics.

  "So," I say, deciding to tackle the other elephant in the room. "You and Prince Matthias. That's part of the reason Penelope hates you, right? What's going on there?"

  She almost chokes on her cookie. "It's not—I mean, there's nothing—we're not—"

  "I'm not asking if you're secretly dating. I'm asking about the situation because if I'm running a resistance movement, I should probably understand all the political complications my potential members bring with them."

  "Right. Yes. That makes sense." She takes a sip of tea, organizing her thoughts. "As you probably know... my family is Baron Fairfax, we hold nds in the eastern provinces, fairly modest holdings, and well, nothing remarkable. My father serves in the King's administrative council, minor position, and mostly dealing with agricultural policy and nd disputes."

  "So solidly middle-tier nobility."

  "Exactly. We're not important enough to be pyers in major politics, but we're established enough to have Academy access and minor court presence." She's settling into that noble conversation style that Vivienne taught me, the roundabout approach to actual information. "My family has historically allied with the crown on most issues, though we maintain good retions with the Church as well, which is somewhat unusual for minor nobility."

  "Church connections are rare?"

  "They're not rare, but they require specific circumstances. Most noble families tend to side with the crown or the Church, but not both, since their interests often csh when it comes to policy." She's rexing into the expnation now, probably more comfortable with formal political discussion than personal retionship questions. "The Fairfax family has managed to keep a good reputation with both institutions by staying neutral on controversial issues and always supporting each other's interests."

  "Which gives you access to both power structures."

  "In theory, yes. In practice, as a baron's daughter I don't personally have significant influence in either circle. My presence at Academy and occasional court functions is more about maintaining family visibility than exercising power."

  "Hm, but you met the prince somehow."

  "Last year there was an Academy charity event supporting orphanages in the capital. The royal family attended, and Crown Prince Matthias was assigned to interact with student organizers. I was helping out with the logistics, and we spoke briefly about the fundraising goals."

  "And then?"

  "And then he started... acknowledging me in the hallways. Saying hello in csses. Small conversations about Academy matters." She's choosing words carefully now. "Nothing inappropriate or romantic, it just... polite interaction that became slightly more frequent over time."

  "Which Penelope interpreted as threat to her position."

  "Lady Ashworth and His Highness are engaged through formal arrangement between their families. The engagement has been pnned since childhood, and their marriage is considered politically essential for stabilizing crown retions with old nobility." She's fully in noble speech mode now, every word carefully neutral. "Any perceived interference with that arrangement, regardless of actual intention or romantic involvement, represents a threat to significant political and financial interests."

  "So you're getting harassed because you had some polite conversations with the prince?"

  "I'm getting harassed because those conversations could theoretically be interpreted as romantic interest, which would undermine an engagement that has substantial political and economic implications for multiple noble houses." She pauses. "Also because I'm minor nobility without the resources to defend myself against a duke's daughter's social campaign."

  I eat another cookie—the chocote sea salt again because it's incredible—and process this. It's just the kind of otome game situation I was expecting: a prince who's in an arranged marriage, a commoner or lower-noble girl he's interested in, a jealous fiancée who starts a harassment campaign, and then this protagonist who gets caught up in political machinations beyond her control.

  But something about Enid's expnation feels a bit off. She's giving me the official story, the politically acceptable version, but there's something underneath she's not saying.

  "Okay, but what actually happened?" I press. "Because that whole expnation was very diplomatic and careful, and it was just like you're reciting what you'd tell someone at a court function. What's the real situation?"

  She looks startled, like she didn't expect me to push past the noble conversation style.

  "I'm not trying to be rude," I add. "But if I'm considering whether you joining this supposed resistance movement is a good idea, I need to understand what I'm actually dealing with. The real version, of course."

  She's quiet for a long moment, hands wrapped around her teacup like she's trying to absorb its warmth.

  "The prince is kind," she says finally. "He's not just polite, he's actually kind. He notices when people are struggling and tries to help without making it obvious. When he realized I was being excluded from study groups, he started asking me questions in css so I'd have reason to engage with material. When Penelope's faction was spreading rumors, he made a point of being publicly courteous to undermine their narrative."

  "So he's protecting you."

  "He's trying to. But his protection makes the harassment worse because it validates Penelope's concern that I'm a threat." She ughs, but it's a bit bitter. "If he ignored me completely, maybe she'd lose interest. But he can't seem to do that, and I can't ask him to because that would mean admitting the harassment is happening, which would create its own political problems."

  "Catch-22."

  "What?"

  "Nothing, just an expression. You're stuck either way."

  "Exactly. If I accept his help, the harassment escates. If I refuse his help, I'm isoted and vulnerable. If I try to leave the Academy entirely, I'm admitting defeat and my family loses face. There's no good option."

  Now we're getting somewhere. This is the real deal, not just some diplomatic fluff.

  "So, you're saying that joining up with the resistance against the Traditionalists is gonna help things here?"

  "I think doing something, anything, is better than just enduring." She looks at me directly. "Even if it fails, even if it makes things worse, at least I'll have tried to change things rather than just accepting that this is how my life has to be."

  That's more honest than the earlier expnation, and I respect it. But I also recognize that it's not the best strategic approach.

  "Okay," I say. "I understand why you want to do this. I still need to talk to the others about whether it's actually a good idea to let you, but I understand."

  "Thank you."

  "Don't thank me just yet. There's a good chance this whole thing is more complicated than you realize, and bringing you in would just create more problems."

  "I can handle complicated."

  "Everyone says that."

  We're finishing the st of the cookies—I'm saving three for the roommate peace offering like I pnned—when Enid suddenly goes very still, like she's made a decision about something.

  "There's something else," she says quietly.

  "Okay?"

  "Something I haven't told anyone. Not even Mika knows this." She's gripping her teacup so tightly that I'm worried it might break. "I'm only telling you because if I'm going to ask to join your group, you should know what you're actually getting."

  "I'm listening."

  She takes a deep breath. "I've been having visions. There are dreams that aren't dreams. And three months ago, the Church confirmed it... I'm destined to be a Saintess."

  I freeze with a cookie halfway to my mouth.

  "A what?"

  "A Saintess."

  "A what again?"

  "Um, Saintess is someone chosen by divine power to channel holy magic and support Heroes in their missions..." She's speaking faster now, words tumbling out like she's been holding them in too long. "The Church has been monitoring me since the visions started. They're pnning to announce it publicly next year, train me in holy arts, and position me for whatever conflict they think is coming. The engagement situation with the prince... the Church might actually want it to happen because a Saintess close to the future Hero would be strategically valuable."

  "Wait, back up. Future hero, you mean…?"

  "Prince Matthias. The Church has been decred that he might be the next Hero if demon threat resurfaces." She's looking at me with something like desperation. "That's really why I can't just leave the Academy or avoid him. If I'm going to be a Saintess and he's going to be a Hero, we're going to end up working together anyway. The Church is probably already pnning it."

  I stare at her while my brain tries to process this absolute catastrophe of information.

  The protagonist isn't just some random baron's daughter caught in romantic drama. She's the destined Saintess who's going to support the future Hero against demon threats.

  ...Right, and that's why she's called Protagonist!

  And she just asked to join what she thinks is a resistance movement but is actually a demon conspiracy with me as the figurehead.

  Ha ha ha…

  …a Saintess wants to join a group of demon resurrection?!