By the time Adelia finally made it back to her dorm, the room was blissfully cold, the buzz of the Waffle House’s fluorescent lights still etched behind her eyelids, and her face ached from laughing. Eliot’s sudden panic and dash into the night had left her stunned for a moment, and then grinning like an idiot as she watched him disappear. She murmured, “Five hours, huh?” with a chuckle as she turned the key in her door.

The moment her head hit the pillow, exhaustion took her under like a wave, and the world dissolved into that strange, syrup-slow space just before sleep.

[hr]

The clang of steel echoed softly down a sun-dappled stone corridor.

Adelia blinked into a light far too warm and golden to be her dorm room’s horrendous ceiling fixture. She sat up sharply—only, she wasn’t in bed. She was sitting on a narrow bench beside a heavy oaken window, a breeze fluttering gauzy drapes beside her. Her fingers gloved in worn leather brushed across a polished scabbard at her side.

“What the..”

She stood, and her armor clinked with the weight of someone who had earned it. The breastplate was fitted, silver-trimmed, with a crest she couldn’t quite recognize but felt oddly familiar. She looked down at herself; boots worn but shined, sword sheathed, a dark cloak tossed over her shoulder like she’d just stepped out of a bard’s dramatic retelling.

Adelia moved cautiously through the castle’s halls, the sound of her steps hollow against the stones. Servants passed with bows and murmured “Lady Adelia.” She barely acknowledged them, too busy trying to process how real everything felt. The smell of baked bread from the kitchens, the hint of lavender oil from a nearby brazier—everything was too vivid for a dream.

Still, she didn’t question it too hard. It was a dream, obviously. Probably the waffles she knew she shouldn't of had. And honestly? This beat the hell out of stressing over textbook readings.

She wandered until she found herself at a sunlit gallery, gazing out onto a courtyard blooming with wild roses and fluttering pennants. A squire appeared from a side door, panting slightly, bowing with a hand to his chest. “My lady,” he said breathlessly. “You’re needed. Princess Elliot requests your escort. The political tour begins in the hour. You’re to ensure her safety through the village square.”

Adelia blinked once. Then twice. “...[i]Princess[/i] Elliot?”

“Yes, my lady. You’ll find her in the west tower chambers. She’s expecting you.”

Adelia ran a hand down her face, suppressing a groan. “Of course she is.” With a resigned sigh and the faintest grin tugging at her lips, she turned on her heel and headed down the corridor toward the west wing. Her boots echoed off the stone, her sword tapping lightly at her side. [i]Princess Elliot. Really?[/i]

Even in her dreams, it seemed, the universe wasn’t going to let her forget that chaotic, endearing whirlwind of a guy. Well, alright then. She could play along.

Straightening her spine and letting the knightly persona sink in fully, Adelia marched forward like she had a mission to complete. “Guess it’s time to meet royalty.”

The west tower was taller than it looked from the outside.

Adelia climbed the winding stairs, her hand brushing the cold, ancient stone of the walls as she went. A thin shaft of light followed her from a narrow window slit, illuminating the occasional banner or faded mural painted with gold-trimmed warriors and serene, watchful monarchs. The climb wasn’t hard—her dream self was strong, but it was long enough to give her time to think.

[i]Princess Elliot.[/i] She still couldn’t say it in her head without stifling a laugh.

What would he even look like in a dream like this? Probably some ridiculous gown, dripping in gems, cracking bad jokes from a velvet chaise. She shook her head at the image, one corner of her mouth quirking upward. This dream really is on something else.

At the top of the stairs, the corridor opened into a high-vaulted hall with stained glass casting fractured rainbows across the flagstones. There were two guards stationed at the ornate double doors at the far end—doors carved with a floral crest she’d glimpsed on her own armor. The guards bowed low at her approach, stepping aside wordlessly. 

Apparently, she was important here. Trusted. The Lady Knight with full access to royalty.

Adelia took a breath, then raised her gauntleted hand and knocked firm and clear on the chamber doors. Three raps. Confident. [i]Knightly[/i].

She stepped back half a pace, folding her arms neatly behind her back, adopting the air of someone who'd done this countless times before. But her eyes flicked briefly toward the sunlight falling through the high windows, and she couldn’t help the small laugh under her breath.

“Alright, Princess Elliot,” she murmured softly to herself, amusement laced through her voice. “Let’s see what version of you my brain cooked up.”