Blazar stared, her breath coming in ragged gasps. What the hell just happened? Her hands trembled as she wiped rainwater from her eyes, blinking rapidly to clear her vision.
Blazar stared down at the unconscious man sprawled across her lap. Naked, rain-slicked, and infuriatingly well-built. A flash of lightning illuminated his perfect features for a heart-stopping moment.
Blazar's cheeks burned scarlet. She swallowed hard, throat suddenly dry.
"Shit." The word escaped through clenched teeth.
She wasn't supposed to care, wasn't supposed to react—but her traitorous pulse hammered anyway. Disguise or not, she was still a girl under these bindings and baggy clothes. Her fingers twitched with unwanted awareness.
With a sharp exhale, she shrugged off her long coat and draped it over Dante's waist, covering him just enough to spare her sanity. The fabric settled against his skin with a soft whisper.
"If anyone notices my face right now, I'm dead." She muttered, forcing her expression back to practiced indifference.
A murmur rippled through the crowd. Students who had been screaming moments ago now clustered like vultures, their phones raised, lenses flashing. The rain had stopped, but water still dripped from the academy's elaborate gargoyles overhead.
"Holy shit, did that guy just take down Dante?" A girl whispered, eyes wide.
"Who the hell is he?!" Another student gasped, furiously typing.
"Post it! The kings are gonna lose their minds!" Someone shouted from the back, voice cracking with excitement.
Blazar's jaw tightened. She glanced around nervously, counting exits. Favors were currency here, but attention for someone like her was a death sentence. Her fingers instinctively brushed the concealed blade at her hip.
Then—footsteps pounded against marble, echoing like thunderclaps.
A broad-shouldered man with a scar splitting his eyebrow stalked forward—one of Dante's Betas. His face was a masterpiece of "I cannot believe this shit" as he surveyed the scene. He cracked his knuckles menacingly before composing himself.
He bowed stiffly, muscles flexing beneath his uniform. "Sorry for the trouble. We'll take him from here." His voice was gravel and steel.
Blazar forced a smirk, deepening her voice just slightly. "You're welcome." She shifted Dante's weight, trying to mask her discomfort.
The Beta's eye twitched. This scrawny 'boy' had no right sounding so smug. He clenched his fists, veins bulging along his forearms.
Two more betas moved to lift Dante, muscles straining with the effort, but not before the first shot Blazar a look that said, "You're either the bravest or dumbest person I've ever met."
The coat slipped—Blazar looked away sharply, but not before catching a few snickers from the crowd. Her ears burned hot beneath her rain-soaked hair.
"Aw, the new kid's shy!" Someone called out mockingly.
"Never seen a naked king before?" Another voice jeered, followed by raucous laughter.
Her fists clenched. This was why she hated people. She bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood.
Then—a voice like shattered glass cut through the chaos.
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?!" The words sliced through the air like a blade.
Aria Bright.
The princess of the Hollowall, stormed forward, her silver-tipped heels cracking the tiles with every step. Her guards fanned out behind her, a wall of silent threat. The crowd parted instantly, students scrambling to bow or curtsy.
Blazar didn't flinch. She stood her ground, eyes narrowed, shoulders squared.
Aria's golden gaze dropped to Dante's exposed arm—to the thin, still-bleeding cut on his wrist. A drop of crimson fell to the marble with an almost audible ping.
Her pupils dilated to pinpricks. She inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring.
"You DARED to fight a King without permission?!" She screeched, stepping so close Blazar could smell her expensive perfume and poor life choices. "Who do you think you ARE?! You filthy nameless boy!" Spittle flew from her perfect lips.
The students edged back, phones still rolling. A few whispered prayers for the new kid's soul.
"Aria's gonna rip her apart—" One student whispered, clutching his friend's arm.
"That peasant's dead." Another agreed, shaking her head solemnly.
"Do we call the principal or—?" A third voice trailed off uncertainly.
Blazar ran a hand through her hair, smearing blood across her hair. "How the hell am I supposed to kill one of those? Is Kael in his right mind sending me here?" she muttered, more to herself than anyone. Her mind raced through escape scenarios, each worse than the last.
Aria's lip curled. "You'll rot in the dungeons for this!" Her manicured hand gestured sharply to her guards.
Before Blazar could retort, a hand struck like a viper.
A slap cracked across her cheek, snapping her head sideways. Stars danced in her vision.
A man in a black suit stood before her, his expression carved from ice. His presence radiated authority, silencing even Aria's fury.
"Follow me, young man," he said, voice low. "You're in for a rude awakening." He adjusted his gold cufflinks with deliberate precision.
Blazar touched her stinging face, her blood humming under her skin. The taste of copper filled her mouth.
Blazar ran a hand through her hair, exhaling sharply. This day just keeps getting better. She straightened her spine, ignoring the throbbing in her cheek.
The man marched her through the gilded hallways, his polished shoes clicking like an executioner's countdown. Portraits of past kings watched with judgmental eyes from ornate frames.
"What's your name?" he demanded, not bothering to look back.
"Orion," Blazar answered, voice flat. She counted surveillance cameras as they walked—twelve so far.
"Orion who?"
"Orion Spade." She kept her gaze lowered, playing the part of a chastised student while memorizing their route.
The man's lip curled. "Ah. The Spade family. How do you think your mother will feel when she hears her son got expelled on his first day at the finest academy in the world?" His hand gripped her shoulder, fingers digging painfully.
Blazar nearly snorted. Prestigious? From what she'd seen in the past hour, this place was little more than a glorified fighting pit with better architecture. But she bowed her head slightly, letting her overlong bangs shadow her face. "They'll be devastated," she murmured, putting just the right amount of tremor in her voice.
Lie.
Her boss had invented the Spade lineage—some bankrupt noble house desperate enough to take bribes for a fake heir. The thought of her "mother" almost made her laugh.
They stepped into a brass elevator. The man sneered. "I'll inform them their son is a reckless fool." He pressed the top button with unnecessary force.
Blazar clenched her fists, forcing her voice to tremble. "I was just trying to help! That student was getting murdered! How was I supposed to know his attacker was royalty?" She widened her eyes in feigned innocence.
Another lie. She'd recognized the danger the moment she'd seen the golden eyes, the way the air itself seemed to warp around him. What she hadn't anticipated was that the school would openly allow kings to slaughter students in broad daylight. That part was... interesting.
The man's nostrils flared. "Your ignorance is no excuse. That 'attacker' as you so disrespectfully put it, is Dante Volkov, The supreme alpha king of Ravens-haven kingdom and one of the five ruling monarchs of this institution."
He leaned closer, his breath smelling of mint and something bitter. "If I hadn't intervened when I did, Princess Aria would have torn you apart limb from limb. That's not a metaphor, boy. Last semester she disemboweled a servant for serving her tea at the wrong temperature."
Blazar's stomach turned, but her face remained impassive. So that's how it is here. Monsters playing at being students.
The elevator shuddered to a stop with a soft chime.
They stopped before a towering door—PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE etched in black. The man shoved it open, revealing a cavernous office with floor-to-ceiling windows. Blazar followed, her boots sinking into plush crimson carpet.
The room reeked of power and something colder. Ancient books lined the walls, their spines unmarked.
The principal's high-backed chair - a throne, really, carved from what looked like a single piece of ebony - sat turned away from them, silhouetted against the angry sky. The only signs of occupancy were the long fingers draped over one armrest, their nails filed to perfect points.
The man beside her stiffened, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. "Sir," he began, his voice suddenly several degrees more respectful, "I've brought the—"
"Leave us." The voice from the chair said. It was colder than the marble floors, sharper than the stained glass, and carried a weight that made the air itself feel heavier. Blazar's skin prickled with instinctive warning.
The man didn't hesitate. He bowed deeply and backed out of the room, closing the door with a soft but final click that sounded eerily like a cell door locking.
The chair turned with a slow, ominous creak, revealing a figure that made Blazar's instincts scream danger.
I might not make it out of this alive.