Capítulo 7: Chapter 6

RAPS was the most beautiful place Q had ever seen.

The corridors gleamed with polished marble floors that reflected the sunlight streaming in from towering windows. Every arch and pillar was carved with delicate patterns, like lace turned to stone. Chandeliers hung from the ceilings, their crystals shimmering like captured starlight. The walls were adorned with enormous oil paintings of regal women—Princesses from generations past, their expressions serene, their gowns impossibly elegant.

Q's head tilted back as she tried to take it all in, her mouth slightly open. It was too much to process. Too shiny, too clean, too perfect.

Professor Ligarius walked ahead of her, his long coat swishing with every step. His voice echoed in the empty halls, carrying an air of authority as he spoke.

"The Royal Ascension Princess School—RAPS—is the most prestigious institution of its kind in the nation!" Professor Ligarius declared, his voice swelling with pride. He adjusted his wide-brimmed hat with a flourish, as though the very mention of RAPS required added theatricality. "For centuries, this sacred institution has shaped the future of kingdoms, training young women to embody grace, intelligence, and poise. You may have heard of our graduates. If there's a throne anywhere worth sitting on, chances are a RAPS alumna is sharing it—or running the entire kingdom from behind it."

Q had already stopped listening.

Her gaze wandered to the massive garden she glimpsed through one of the towering windows. It was unlike anything she'd ever seen before—a sprawling expanse of green, dotted with colorful bursts of flowers and trimmed hedges shaped into intricate designs. In the center, a fountain bubbled softly, its water sparkling in the sunlight.

She drifted toward the nearest set of doors leading outside, drawn to the garden like a moth to a flame.

"And let me assure you," Professor Ligarius continued, undeterred, "The world would crumble without RAPS. Crumble, I say! Where else do you think Princes, Kings, and political advisors find their wives? Not from the villages or towns, I can tell you that. It's here, in these hallowed halls, that we mold young women into paragons of virtue and brilliance. In fact, it is said that a RAPS graduate's curtsy alone can resolve disputes between warring nations!"

Q had reached the door. She pressed her hand against the cool glass, pushing it open. The scent of flowers and freshly cut grass hit her like a wave, and she took a deep breath, stepping forward.

"Our students have married into dynasties so powerful, mere mention of their names causes lesser courts to swoon! The Duchess of Everlasting Prosperity? RAPS graduate. The Queen of Unfathomable Wealth? RAPS graduate. The Lady Who Negotiated Peace Between Dragons and Wizards While Baking a Perfect Soufflé? RAPS graduate."

Q bit her lip to keep from laughing, but Professor Ligarius either didn't notice or didn't care.

"Each Princess candidate," he continued, gesturing grandly, "Is held to the highest standards of discipline and decorum. They must master hundreds of skills: diplomacy, etiquette, horseback archery—though we have mostly phased that out for liability reasons—and, of course, curtsying, which is essential."

She was just about to plant her foot on the lush green grass when she felt a sharp tug on the back of her collar.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Q yelped as he pulled her back, almost sending her tumbling onto the stone pathway.

She turned to glare at him, rubbing her neck.

"What was that for?"

Professor Ligarius frowned, adjusting his hat as if the mere act of grabbing her collar had disheveled him.

"You don't walk on the grass," he said, his tone firm. "It will kill it."

Q blinked at him, her annoyance quickly giving way to confusion. "Kill it?"

"Yes," he replied, his voice clipped. "The grass here is delicate. It must be preserved, not trampled by muddy boots."

Q stared at him for a moment, then crossed her arms. "Grass is meant to be walked on!"

"Is it now?"

"Yes," she said, turning toward the garden again. "The important part of grass—the part that's responsible for making it grow—isn't the blades. It's the base of the plant, the bit that grows close to the ground. As long as that's fine, stepping on the grass doesn't hurt it."

Professor Ligarius paused, his expression shifting to one of mild surprise. "And you know this… how?"

Q shrugged. "I grew up on a farm. I've spent more time with grass than people."

For a moment, Professor Ligarius said nothing, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as if assessing her.

Then he hummed softly, a curious sound that seemed half amusement, half approval.

"Interesting."

Before she could ask what he meant, he released her collar.

Q wasted no time. She darted onto the grass, laughing as the soft blades tickled her bare ankles. The sunlight felt warmer out here, the air sweeter. She spun around in awe, taking in the towering hedges and vibrant flowerbeds, the intricate patterns etched into the shrubs. The fountain in the center seemed to sparkle like liquid silver, its gentle splashes like music to her ears.

She'd never seen anything so beautiful in her life.

Behind her, Professor Ligarius stood on the stone path, his hands tucked into his coat pockets. He watched her with an expression Q couldn't quite place—somewhere between curiosity and resignation.

Q was still spinning in the garden, her arms stretched wide as she turned in lazy circles, drinking in the beauty of the place. For once, the weight in her chest had lifted, her worries momentarily forgotten.

"Enjoying yourself?"

The calm voice cut through her moment of bliss, and she stumbled to a stop, turning toward Professor Ligarius. He stood on the edge of the path, his tall frame casting a long shadow over the grass. His wide-brimmed hat tilted slightly forward, shading his sharp gray eyes.

"I—yeah," Q said, brushing her hands on her skirt, suddenly self-conscious. "It's nice."

"Nice." Professor Ligarius echoed, his lips curving into a faint smile.

"Well, I suppose that's one way to describe it." He paused, his gaze steady as he gestured for her to return to the stone path. "Now that you've had your frolic, I believe introductions are in order."

Q blinked, confused. "Introductions?"

"Yes," he said, as though it were obvious. "I'd like to know who you are. Really."

She hesitated, her fingers tugging at the edge of her apron.

"I told you already," she said, a bit defensively. "I'm Q."

"And just Q?"

"That's it," she said, her voice firm despite the nervous flutter in her chest. "Just Q."

He tilted his head slightly, as if he wanted to press further, but after a moment he shrugged. "Fair enough. And who was that again you were looking for?"

"I told you that too," Q said, her words tumbling out quickly. "I'm looking for someone. My best friend, Madeline Carlton."

At the name, Professor Ligarius froze.

"Maddy," Q continued, not noticing the change in his demeanor. "She left for this place—RAPS—about a week ago. I—I need to see her. Please."

"Madeline Carlton."

Q nodded eagerly. "Yes, that's her! You know her?"

His gaze sharpened, but his expression remained unreadable. "Perhaps."

Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and began walking toward the far end of the garden.

"Hey!" Q called, running after him. "Where are you going?"

He glanced over his shoulder, his voice calm but brisk.

"If you want to see your friend, I suggest you follow me."