"You really won't leave me alone?" Gunnar snapped.
Mae's fingers tightened on his sleeve until the seam protested.
"Let go, Mae." Gunnar's voice was flat. His hand pulled back, and the courtyard laughed like a single throat.
"Don't make me beg," Mae said, grin wide and stupid on purpose. "You've been ignoring me since sunrise, Prince Gunnar. It's rude."
A boy from the Skycourt magic house shouted, "She's the Emperor's fosterling! Move, peasant!"
"Peasant?" Mae pushed closer. "I have better coin than you do."
"Shut up!" a girl snapped. "You're a joke, Mae. Even the Beastlands beauty is prettier."
Mae blinked at Elise, who sat too still on her throne-bench, fox-tail draped, expression unreadable.
"Look at her," someone hissed. "She clings like a beggar. What a show."
Gunnar didn't step back farther. He stayed a foot away, his sleeve bunched under Mae's grip. His face stayed controlled, like a frozen statue. People loved watching statues sweat.
SIS's voice cut into Mae's skull, dry and precise.
"Decision panel: Public Appeal Sequence. Option A: Sob and beg for forgiveness. Option B: Dramatic exit with humiliation. Option C: Create diversion. Timer: 00:33."
Mae opened her mouth.
"Choose," SIS added. "Failure to decide will trigger punitive feedback. Affection target: Gunnar -10. Failure penalty scale: public humiliation plus electric feedback."
Mae glanced at Gunnar's hand. He was looking past her, at the courtyard, not meeting her eyes. The panel glared text
