The long archway ridden hallway was unlit, shading the majority of the walkway into darkness, the smallest peppering on sunlight from outside dotted across the ground. Even though he had turned to face her, his features still remained clouded at their distance, she kept her eyes trained straight for his own. Until she watched his eyes glance over her figure, Andromeda knew what he was piecing together in his head. If she really wanted to, she could reach out a gentle caressing touch to that mind and coax its thoughts into her own. There was no point in making the effort, his current thoughts meant little to her. Although, as his head tilted to the side and his eyes continued their analysis, the young woman tensed her shoulders.

There was a breath of time that passed after he spoke finally, breaking his ghoulish silence. Then he was turning and vanishing into the dark, the sudden soft tap of footsteps behind her made Andromeda twirl around to meet them. Matching her eyes with the Alderburn heir, a wash of relief came over her. At least it was her and not the other more haughty heirs. The woman stopped in her tracks like a deer in headlights, a small sound coming from her lips as she froze up.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt something, Andromeda.” Her tone was as pure and as kind as the day they had met. Andromeda lifted a hand in a soft dismissal of her concern.

“It’s fine, Mira.” A slide long glance over her own shoulder, no trace to be found of Misha. “I was just heading back to my quarters.” With that, she turned on her heel and began to walk steadily down the arches. Her mind had linked together what Misha had said. I can deal with them, you are different.

“Oh, well I shall see you later tonight then.” Mira chirped, her voice vibrating off of the old stone.

Andromeda had no quarrel with Alderburn, they were a nonviolent group of people, inevitably proven by the heirs that came to compete in the tournaments. Always kind-hearted and willing to help anyone. For that very reason, Andromeda had warped the pretty little head of Penelope Whitten in her first tournament. Not enough to kill or change the direction of her life to demise, but enough to haunt and linger with a feeling Penelope could never shake. The spy trainee had targeted an Alderburn boy, luring him into her web before striking. The poor man had been so trusting and under the impression that Penelope needed help. His scream was silent, but Andromeda had felt his thoughts halt, felt his presence slip away.

A large portion of her afternoon was spent sprawled across the four poster bed in the Marmoor sector of the tournament housing. The entire room was blazen with their crest, wispy ethereal whites and silvers throughout the entire space. Not a single hint of black to be seen, it was rather confronting actually. Having arrived the previous day, Andromeda’s belongings had already been slotted away into their various temporary homes. All but her dagger which lay on the bedside table, just to the left of her head.

The return of the mixed blood heir would pose to be difficult. She had no doubts about duping the other heirs, spinning their little heads until they were quacking like a duck or husks of themselves. Misha would be a problem. With an irritated groan, she turned onto her side and stared at the dagger. She had lost last time, her kingdom could not afford another loss. Not this year.

After hours of plotting and whining to herself about the spanner that was Misha in her works, Andromeda had resigned herself to the bath. Letting the warm water relax the tight muscles in her back, allowing her to begin to think a little clearer once more.

The dress that had been assigned to her was different from the last two, that being said they were still a gossamer white with sleek silk. It always was. Floor length as per the requirements of the event, as were the accompanying heels. Gods, she couldn’t wait until tomorrow. When all this silly imagery of purity could be set aside for functional clothing options.

As she approached the courtyard once more, Andromeda took a moment to pull the large white fox fur boa around herself. Letting it sit on her arms as she turned to descend the steps down towards the mosaic stones. The moonlight mixed with the soft orange glow from the ambient lighting of the courtyard dappled the area. Creating an abstractly brilliant view from afar, Andromeda admired it as she took her first step down.

Tonight would be ideal for weaselling her way into the minds of the other competitors. Alcohol often made people blind to her psychic advancements whilst she toyed in conversation with them. Top priority would be Ales, he was sure to have his teeth bared and aimed for her throat. But, with the arrival of Misha, that changed the dynamics.

With the final step down towards the stone pavers, Andromeda caught sight of the man himself, peering over towards her. With narrowed pale eyes, she continued her advancement into the courtyard. Taking her sweet time to make her way across the expanse, she could hear others behind her. Making their arrival known well before they rounded the corner to descend the stairs.

If he was not back for revenge, then perhaps she was safe on that front. The only issue being, did he care for his half-sibling that she killed, albeit indirectly. Then, did he care enough in order to kill her?

Her eyes left Misha as she arrived at the temporary bar that had been built for the event, the beginnings of smooth classical music flowed into the stone arena from the platform. Leaning one hand out towards the woman behind the counter, palm turned skywards.

“Neat whiskey.” A moment later, the short glass was placed into her waiting palm. Andromeda graced the woman with a thank you before turning back to look out towards Misha. Perhaps he would be a good weapon against Ales, a distraction from her previous indiscretion against the Ice Kingdom. Her pointer finger tapped on the wall of the glass as she lifted it to her lips, drawing in the amber liquid and feeling the familiar warmth flood over her tongue. At the stairs, she could see heirs dotted amongst the arriving graduates, notably Mira as she all but skipped down the steps in her whirling flurry of a dress, decorated in small butterflies. Another stereotype the academy likes to align to Alderburn females, not that Mira seemed to care. Andromeda did not look away as she gestured to the bar again, tapping before she received another glass of the same liquor.

After her prolonged stalking, Andromeda pushed away from her spot and began her approach. His eyes were trained elsewhere for a moment before catching her form making its way towards him. Once she had closed the distance, keeping at least an arm's length between them. She raised the new glass, fingers holding the base and directly it up to him.

“Care for a drink?” She all but cooed, holding her hand still for him to take if he so wished. If he did take it without question, then he wasn’t as smart as people claimed him to be.