Nameless opened his eyes in the dim light of the royal infirmary. His entire body was a block of pain, but it was his throat that burned the most, as if he had swallowed glowing coals.
He felt a heavy weight around his neck. His fingers brushed against cold metal: the Monitoring Collar. With every beat of his heart, the collar emitted a faint purple glow.
"Don't pull on it," a familiar voice said from the shadows. "If you try to break it, it will release enough lightning magic to fry your entire nervous system."
Elara was sitting by his bed, peeling an apple with a small silver knife. She wasn't smiling.
"You destroyed half of the royal courtyard, Nameless. And you did it in the most terrifying way possible. You didn't 'cast' it; you 'expelled' it. The mages are already calling you the 'Dragon of Solis', and not in a good way."
She leaned toward him, her blue eyes searching his. "Tomorrow, you will join the Academy for real. You won't be a student like the others. You'll be in the Special Class, under my direct guardianship. Prince Alaric survived, but his pride is in tatters. As for Princess Isolde... she has requested to be your 'study partner'."
Nameless tried to speak, but only a raspy croak escaped his throat.
"Rest," Elara concluded, standing up. "The whole world is afraid of you now. And fear is an emotion that attracts either the most loyal allies... or the swiftest assassins."