CROWNS ACADEMY || A Royalty's Academia Book Series #1

෴VOLUME [41]෴

Rai's POV

After two days at the states castle, I started to feel better and fashion weeks were calling so I had to say goodbye to Liam and start the traveling.

Thank goodness for the time capsules.

Thanksgiving break was supposed to mean rest. Cozy fireplaces, soft sweaters, too much pie. Not back-to-back fashion weeks in four cities across the world. 

But then again, I wasn’t just anyone anymore. I was Estrella Nurey — supermodel, kingdom princess, reluctant global icon. 

As my time capsule drifted into Nairobi, my fourth stop after the chaos of Paris, London, and LA, exhaustion pulled at every muscle in my body. My head throbbed lightly beneath my designer sunglasses, and I silently prayed for just a few moments of quiet before the madness of fittings and rehearsals and paparazzi began. 

“Rose,” I called, my voice rasping with tiredness as I stepped off the capsule and into the warmth of the Nairobi sun. 

My assistant, efficient as ever, was already flipping through her tablet while speed-walking beside me. “Yes, Estrella?” 

“Please tell me they’ve at least stocked the hotel with ginger tea. And honey. And maybe, my soul, if they found it in lost luggage.” 

Rose snorted, a rare crack in her usual polished demeanor. “They have your tea, they have your honey, and I told them to prepare lavender baths every night. As for your soul, I believe we left that somewhere between Paris and Heathrow.” 

“Tragic,” I sighed dramatically, earning a chuckle from one of my bodyguards. 

My ever-present shadows. One blond and stone-faced, the other dark-haired with a wry sense of humor. They flanked me as we moved through the airport, their gazes sharp, scanning every face in the crowd. 

“You’ll make it through this week, boss,” Adrian said with a crooked grin. “Then we can all hibernate until Christmas.” 

“I expect you to personally carry me to my next vacation,” I replied dryly. 

“Gladly,” Taylor muttered, ever the quiet one, though I caught the small twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth. 

As we slid into the sleek black car waiting at the curb, Rose rattled off my schedule with terrifying precision. “You have two runway rehearsals today, four fittings, a press conference at six, and a designer dinner at eight. Tomorrow is even heavier. Do you want me to decline the dinner? You look like you need—” 

“—a coma?” I finished. I stared out the window as the streets of Nairobi blurred past. The city had a pulse, a rhythm that felt alive in a way the others hadn’t. Maybe it was because we were in Silantoi’s kingdom. Her home. And yet, the ache in my chest deepened knowing my friends were scattered across their own kingdoms for Thanksgiving. 

It felt wrong, doing this without them. 

“I’ll survive,” I said softly, mostly to myself. 

The first day of Nairobi Fashion Week passed in a blur of camera flashes, fabric swishes, and shouted instructions. I walked the runways like muscle memory, slipping into persona after persona: fierce, aloof, radiant. But beneath the glamour, loneliness curled tight in my chest. 

By the second evening, after yet another exhausting show, I found a quiet moment backstage. My throat ached, my feet throbbed, and the roar of the crowd felt a world away. 

Rose bustled over, holding a sleek, steaming cup of tea. “Here,” she said, thrusting it into my hands like a lifeline. “Drink before you collapse.”