The moon was high and full.

Its light poured into the guest quarters of the Royal Academy like liquid silver.

Iris Silvermoon sat before a basin of water.

She did not move. She did not blink.

To a human observer, she would appear to be meditating.

To an elf, she was on a conference call.

The surface of the water rippled. It did not ripple from wind or vibration.

It rippled with magic.

An image formed on the surface. It was the face of Elder Aerin.

He looked old. Even by elven standards, he looked like a dried apple carved from stone.

"Report," the Elder said. His voice echoed directly in Iris's mind.

"The Child of Destiny is physically healthy," Iris replied aloud. "He consumes large quantities of meat. He hits things with metal bars."

"And his magical aptitude?"

"Non-existent for elemental casting. High for physical enhancement."

The Elder frowned. The water rippled with his displeasure.

"This is insufficient data, Iris. We sent you to assess the human's potential as an ally."

"He is a simple creature," Iris said. "He likes fighting. He dislikes reading. He is... dense."

"Then he is malleable," the Elder countered. "The Conclave has deliberated. Mere observation is no longer enough."

Iris felt a cold knot form in her stomach.

"Elaborate," she said.

"The Demon threat grows," the Elder said. "The barrier weakens. We require a guarantee that the human kingdoms will support the Enclaves."

The image in the water sharpened.

"You are to secure an alliance. A binding one."

"A treaty?" Iris asked.

"A marriage," the Elder corrected. "Or a bond strong enough to ensure loyalty."

Iris stared at the water.

"You wish for me to... mate with the Child of Destiny?"

"We wish for you to secure the asset," the Elder said coldly. "Seduction is a standard diplomatic tool for short-lived races. Their hormones override their logic."

"I am a diplomat," Iris stated. "Not a courtesan."

"You are a servant of the Conclave," the Elder snapped. "Do what is necessary. Make him fall for you. Bind his destiny to ours."

The connection severed.

The water went still.

Iris sat in the dark.

She felt sick.

She had spent five hundred years studying philosophy, magic, and nature.

She had negotiated water rights with dwarves. She had debated ethics with dragons.

She had never flirted with anyone.

The idea of manipulating Theodore Aldridge made her skin crawl.

He was a child. He was seventeen.

He was also boring.

She tried to picture herself courting him.

She imagined staring into his eyes while he talked about sword polish.

She shuddered.

But orders were orders.

The Conclave was absolute.

She stood up. She paced the room.

She needed a strategy. She needed data.

She needed to understand how human romance functioned.

Her mind drifted.

It did not drift to Theo.

It drifted to a quiet man with messy brown hair and glasses.

A man who had asked her what she wanted.

Iris stopped pacing.

Marcus Aldridge understood humans. He understood emotions.

He was the logical source of information.

It was a perfect plan. She would ask Marcus how to seduce his brother.

She ignored the flutter in her chest when she thought of his name.

That was just anxiety. Obviously.

She grabbed her cloak.

And she had a mission to complete.

✧✧✧

The Royal Academy library was silent.

It smelled of old paper and dust.

Marcus Aldridge sat at a corner table. He was surrounded by stacks of ancient prophecy texts.

He looked tired. He also looked determined.

He was trying to find a loophole.

He was so focused that he didn't hear Iris approach.

"Marcus," she said.

Marcus jumped. He nearly knocked over an inkwell.

He looked up. His eyes widened behind his glasses.

"Iris," he said. He adjusted his spectacles. "You move quietly."

"I am an elf," she said simply.

She pulled out a chair and sat down opposite him.

She stared at him with intense, violet eyes.

"I have a problem," she announced.

Marcus closed his book. He gave her his full attention.

"What kind of problem?" he asked. "Is it the cultural exchange program? Is the food too spicy again?"

"No," Iris said. "I need to seduce someone."

Marcus choked.

He coughed violently for several seconds.

"I beg your pardon?" he wheezed.

"Seduction," Iris repeated. She treated the word like a clinical term. "Courtship. Romance. The process of inducing biological and emotional attachment."

She leaned forward.

"I do not know how it works. I need you to teach me."

Marcus stared at her.

His brain was racing.

She wants to seduce someone, he thought. She is the elf heroine. The target must be Theo.

A wave of relief washed over him.

Finally!

After weeks of accidental eye contact and misinterpreted conversations, the plot was correcting itself!

Iris was going to pursue the protagonist.

He just needed to give her a little push.

Marcus smiled. It was a dazzling, helpful smile.

"I would be happy to help," he said.

Iris blinked. "You would?"

"Absolutely," Marcus said. "Love is a... complex language. Especially for humans."

"It seems inefficient," Iris observed. "Why not simply state intent and exchange genetic data?"

Marcus choked again but this time he collected himself quickly and cleared his throat.

He was getting used to her straight forward way of speaking.

"Because we like the chase," Marcus said. "We like to feel special."

He stood up. He began to pace, slipping into his coaching persona.

"Okay. Let's assess your baseline. What do you know about flirting?"

"Nothing," Iris admitted.

"Good. Blank slate. Easier to train."

He looked at her.

"The first rule of human romance is attention. You have to make the target feel like they are the only person in the world."

Iris pulled out a small notebook. She began writing.

Rule 1: Isolate target's ego.

"How do I do that?" she asked without looking up.

"Compliments," Marcus said. "But not generic ones. Specific ones. Notice things about them."

He gestured to himself.

"For example, don't just say 'you are strong.' Say 'I admire the dedication it took to build that strength.'"

Iris wrote furiously.

"Physical touch is also key," Marcus continued. "But it has to be subtle. A hand on the arm. A brush of the shoulder."

He walked back to the table.

"And finally, shared interests. You have to do things they like, even if you find them boring."

Iris frowned. "Even if it involves metal bars?"

"Especially then," Marcus said.

He looked at her notes.

"This is all theory," he said. "Romance is a practical skill. You need to practice."

Iris looked up. Her eyes locked onto his.

"Practice," she repeated.

"Yes," Marcus said. "You can't just read about it. You have to feel the timing."

He spread his arms.

"Use me," he said. "I can be your practice dummy."

Iris went still.

"You want me to... practice seduction on you?"

"Exactly," Marcus said cheerfully. "I can give you real-time feedback. I can tell you what works and what doesn't."

He tapped the table.

"Think of it as a simulation. Before you go for the real target."

Iris looked at him.

Her heart did a strange, erratic thump against her ribs.

He was offering to let her court him.

He thought it was a game.

He thought it was preparation for his brother.

But for Iris, the lines were already blurring.

"Very well," she said softly. "I accept the simulation."

Marcus beamed.

"Great! Let's start tomorrow. Class is in session."

But he had no idea what he had just agreed to.

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