The Rejected True Heiress (Liora) novel Chapter 36

Liora

I wasn’t sure when I’d passed out. But when I woke, it wasn’t morning yet.

The rain had stopped. The wind no longer rattled the windows. The dorm had settled into silence, except for the horror movie still murmuring from the forgotten TV.

Mia was curled beside me on the narrow couch, one arm slung over her face.I stayed still for a moment, watching her breathe, the blue flicker of the screen sketching faint shadows across her cheek.

I didn’t know what had woken me. Maybe just a crick in my neck. Either way, I figured I could finally

move to my bed.

It would’ve been peaceful.

If not for the pebble.

Click.

I didn’t move at first. Could’ve been the wind.

Click. Click.

I squinted toward the glass. Great.

Slipping off the couch without waking Mia, I crossed the room and drew the curtain aside with one finger.

And there he was.

Callum. Standing below my window like something out of a tragic romance novel. His dark curls gleamed silver in the moonlight, and his T–shirt and pajama pants were wildly beneath his usual status, but

somehow still suited him.

I cracked the window with a push.

“You’ve got about five seconds before I call campus patrol.”

He smirked. “You’d have to explain why a noble heir was arrested under your window.”

“It’d definitely look worse on you than me.”

That made him hesitate.

“I just want to talk.”

“Talk louder. I’ll pretend to listen,” I said, resting against the frame.

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His mouth twitched. “Come down, Liora.”

“Um, No? Why would I do that?”

“Please.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Say pretty please.”

He stared at me like I’d grown another head. Then, with a slow tilt of his head: “…Pretty please.”

The silence between us stretched. The air still carried the storm’s chill, the scent of wet stone and moss

curling into the room like a dare.

I sighed. Loudly. Dramatically.

And before I could regret it, I swung out the window and dropped to the ground, dropping two stories.

His eyes widened slightly. He hadn’t actually thought I’d do it.

I straightened the hem of my nightshirt, brushing dirt off my knees. “Well? I’m out here. Start talking.”

To my surprise, he didn’t lead with a speech or a smug remark. He looked… uncertain. Almost sheepish.

Maybe he hadn’t expected me to come. I sure hadn’t.

“Want to walk?” he asked, nodding down the path.

I raised a brow. “A midnight stroll? That’s what this is about?”

He shrugged, hands stuffed in his pockets like they didn’t know what else to do. “Better than standing in

the cold.”

I gave him a look. Debated. Then turned. “Fine. But I pick the route.”

“Deal.”

We walked in silence at first.

The path behind the dorms wound through the edge of campus, old trees arching overhead like eavesdropping elders. The ground was still soft from the storm, mud clinging to our shoes. My breath came out in faint clouds. I kept my eyes fixed on the path, not on him. It felt easier that way, like I wasn’t really there with him, not walking together.

“So,” he said after a while. “Favorite subject?”

I didn’t look at him. “That’s what you want to ask me?”

“You don’t have to answer.”

“Botany.”

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He blinked, “Really?”

I finally glanced his way. “Surprised?”

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“No,” he said. “Just expected something more… venomous. Like battle strategy or hand–to–hand.”

“I’ll leave that to the nobles.”

That actually earned a laugh, dry and surprised, like it snuck up on him.

“And yours?” I asked, keeping my voice neutral.

“History,” he said. “The gritty kind. Wars, treaties, betrayals.”

“Let me guess. Favorite bedtime story was a coup d’état?”

He smiled faintly. “I was more of a cursed–king kind of kid.”

Of course he was.

He slowed his pace slightly, his voice softer now. “Favorite food?”

I frowned. “Are you interviewing me?”

“You’re hard to read.”

“Good.“,

“Not good,” he muttered. “Not when I’m trying to apologize.”

I glanced at him, keeping my chin tucked against the wind. His eyes were already on me. I wasn’t ready for the way my heart jumped at the sight.

“Apologize for…?” I asked, wary.

“My parents,” he admitted, stepping carefully over a patch of mud. His shoes sank into the damp ground, leaving soft impressions behind. “Their… involvement. I didn’t know.”

I nodded. “I could’ve guessed as much. Don’t worry about it. I can handle myself.”

He looked like he wanted to argue that, but thought better of it.

Silence followed, filled only by the squelch of our steps through wet grass.

A few minutes later, I stopped and turned to face him. The moon hung full above us, casting a pale glow over his coat, silvering the edge of his jawline.

“Alright,” I said. “Was that it?”

His brow pulled. “What?”

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“You didn’t drag me out here in the middle of the night to ask about my favorite foods and say sorry. So

what’s this really about, Callum?”

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes studied my face like it held a code he couldn’t quite crack.