Royal Reboot: Level up, Your Majesty!

Queen vs Maths 

Eydis slapped the oak so hard that nothing happened, because the body she wore was out of shape. She barely registered the bark scraping her skin; she was too busy panting, every muscle in her body protesting loudly and repeatedly in several languages.

This. Was. Torture.

Or exercise.

She slid to the ground, wincing when her T-shirt snagged on the trunk. Damp earth and the spice of fallen maple leaves scented the clearing, pleasant but powerless against the wave of helplessness rising inside her.

Leaves really turn orange? she thought, twirling one idly.

Somewhere behind her, Natalia Robin’s annoyingly energetic voice rang out. “So, what’s the verdict? Trees better company than people?”

Eydis didn’t bother turning around. “Trees don’t ask questions.”

“Trees also don’t skip class for three days straight.”

Eydis didn’t reply.

Natalia was already in her green uniform. She gave Eydis a once-over, one eyebrow raised. “Nice outfit. Very ‘escaped from gym class.’”

“Showing up is also a choice,” Eydis said, “I prefer mine.”

She had already gone through the study materials on her own, partly out of morbid curiosity. Strangely enough, she understood all of it. Hex magic required equations far more complex than anything this academy dared to put on a test. 

Would it work here? 

That was a question for later. What remained a puzzle was the owner of this body.

She pulled out her phone and stared at the blank screen. No messages. A few unfamiliar contacts. A browser history so empty it practically echoed. She was still getting the hang of “Goggle”—clearly a lesser form of her talking mirror, lacking both charm and judgment.

She missed the mirror. At least it had opinions.

“Showing up is a choice?” Natalia shook her head. "Well, you miss seven days straight and they contact your 'parents,' you know." 

Then, her voice softened slightly. "And… Tiffany’s already been expelled. No high jinks from her, I promise.”

Parents. Would they see through her? Would she be expected to share meals and awkward conversation with strangers pretending to be her parents?

Eydis took a deep breath and pushed off the tree. “Fine. You win this round, Natalia.”

“Wait. Was that my name? No ‘handmaiden,’ no passive-aggressive ‘friend.’” Natalia paused. “Are you dying?”

“Emotionally, perhaps,” Eydis muttered. “Friend.”

Natalia groaned. Loudly.

Later in class, Eydis paused with her textbook half-open when a prickling at the back of her neck warned her someone was staring. She rolled her shoulders as though stretching and caught Amanda’s focused gaze; the instant their eyes met, Amanda blushed and snapped her attention to the board. 

Definitely suspicious.

She had barely filed the thought away when a chair screeched across tile. Turning, Eydis found herself facing calm scarlet eyes, detached where Natalia’s were warm.

Astra.

Her elusive roommate drifted into the seat beside her, silver hair cascading over one shoulder, every strand in place despite the early hour. 

"Fashionably late, roomie?" Eydis quipped.

Astra didn’t look at her. “Don’t talk in class.”

Eydis leaned in slightly, just enough to invade personal space while still technically following the rules. “So whispering is acceptable now?”

Astra leaned back. “You’re in my space.”

“Just checking if you still existed. It’s been three days since I last saw you in our shared room.”

“Busy,” Astra replied, flipping open her textbook. After a pause, she added, almost offhandedly, “Is Amanda bothering you?”

Eydis blinked. “Didn’t know you cared.”

Before Astra could reply, Mrs. Henderson's voice sharpened. "Eydis!”

She turned and scrawled linear algebra across the board: determinants, eigenvalues, eigenvectors. Graduate-level material disguised as a pop quiz.

“Since you insist on not listening, why don’t you solve this for the class?” Mrs Henderson pointed to the equation on the board. “A wrong answer means detention.”

The class fell silent, with even the honours kids looking nervous as all eyes turned to Eydis.

She stood, smile growing. “Of course, Mrs Henderson. Though I have to ask. Are we getting an early taste of the college course you really want to teach?”

“One more quip and detention is certain, Miss Von Apfelhof.”

“Please clarify the rules then,” Eydis replied. “Is detention for an incorrect solution or for asking why we are tackling advanced material? Has critical thinking been banned alongside good coffee in this school?”

“Disrespecting authority has consequences.” Mrs Henderson said, pen already scratching a slip.

“In my experience, respect is earned, not forced down my throat.” Eydis said, slinging her bag over her shoulder. 

“And as for your challenge: negative one, zero, negative one.” She took the slip with a polite smile and strolled out, leaving twenty stunned classmates behind.

Henderson stood frozen for a long moment before, very stiffly, turning to write the answers on the board. They matched Eydis's exactly. Glances were exchanged throughout the room; some students looked impressed, while Amanda simply stared at the empty doorway.

Astra alone showed no reaction; she simply stared ahead at the teacher.

Damien slammed his fist on the metal table, the impact echoing in the interrogation room.

"For the fifth time,” he growled, “I am a Knight of the Celestial Empire. My mission is to find the Queen of Shadows.”

Across from him, the man didn’t flinch. He simply leaned back in his chair, face half-lost in the shadows, the rims of his glasses catching the overhead light.

“And how exactly,” the man asked, tone painfully calm, “does that explain your dramatic arrival in… Dallas Prison for Women, Mr. Damien?”

“Sir Damien,” he corrected automatically, though something in his stomach turned.

Dallas? That wasn’t a kingdom. No dominion bore that name. At least, none he recognised.

Something was off. Deeply, structurally wrong.

The man chuckled softly, almost to himself. “You’d be amazed what the universe likes to throw at me.”

He adjusted his glasses with care. “We’ll be transferring you. Somewhere quieter. More civil. A better place to talk.”

Damien’s jaw tensed. “And why should I believe you’re not one of hers?”

"Trust," the man countered. "Because I trusted you wouldn’t conjure that oversized weapon of yours and skewer me across this table.” He extended a hand. "Professor Indigo Crane. Pleased to meet you.”

Damien stared at the offered hand. Then at the door. Killing an unarmed man, even a suspect one, went against his code.

But every instinct in his body screamed that this place was wrong.

“I don’t kill without cause,” Damien said. “But I don’t wait for permission, either.”

Damien obliterated the steel door with a burst of light from his palm. He stepped through the smoke, pausing just long enough to mutter, “Definitely not home.”

Behind him, Professor Crane coughed, brushing off his sleeves like this was routine. When Damien turned, the man was smiling, calmly.

“Fascinating,” Crane said softly. “We’re going to get along just fine.”