Lord of Dread
Dromond Kaas had become a temporary home for the Echani. Prazutis had summoned her, and his lessons required her full attention. Being planet side with her tutor meant that she could excel. Despite her focus, Quinn had recently been giving lectures at the academy named after her parents. It was the least she could do in thanks to the Father.
The students at this academy were different; there was less refinement, but they were also hungry to learn. She had noticed they knew more about her life than she had actually let on, but it was to be expected. Both of the young Echani's birth parents were historical legends - to the point Spencer had been hailed as a prophetic chosen one.
It brought pressure to the poor Princess that she had never asked for.
Instead of letting it crush her, the young woman did her best to push back and make a name for herself all her own.
Quinn moved through the streets of Dromond Kaas, heading from the academy back to where she was staying within Prazutis' own home. While she had been waiting, she had caught glimpses of a familiar young man. From his knowledge, he had been removed from Jutrand Academy and brought under the wing of one of the two diarchs.
While she disagreed with the boy being taken out of the academy, he was in his last year. There wasn't much that Aerik could be taught, and in reality, he needed a master. Her lips pressed together as she ascended the steps to Prazutis' home. She had planned on taking the boy under her wing. His Father had been pivotal in molding the young Princess into who she was today.
He also had been instrumental in rescuing her when she floundered on Susevfi. At the very least, she could help Aerik reach his full potential.
Yet, Prazutis, having more sway than her, for now, had beaten her to plucking the boy from the flock. Quinn wasn't going to complain. As annoying as it was, the Force worked in stupidly mysterious ways.
The Princess crossed the threshold, tomes and a soft leather briefcase cradled in her arms.
The usual silence of Prazutis' home was broken by rhythmic noise, sharp and focused, like training. Quinn paused, recognizing the boy's movements from the echo alone. His concentration surpassed that of most of the academy's students.
A familiar flicker of annoyance stirred in her—Praz had beaten her to him. Again.
She lingered for only a moment before turning, her white-blonde hair catching the room's dim light. Her heels clicked sharply across the polished floor, a metronome of quiet frustration as she vanished deeper into the estate.