Aria
I stumble away from him, my shoulder aching where he hit me. His words, cold and sharp, are like shards of ice in my gut. Insects. I feel tears prick my eyes but I refuse to let them fall. Crying is a weakness I cannot afford.
I need to get back to the dorm. I need to get away from the hundreds of eyes that just watched my humiliation.
I hurry down the corridors, my head down, and finally reach the door to room 2B. I push it open, desperate for a moment of peace, but peace is not what I find.
A wave of foul energy hits me in the face. It smells like death and decay, a sickly sweet stench that clings to the air and my clothes. My bed is covered in a shimmering, black sludge that bubbles and eats away at the thin blanket. A prank. Alyssa's work, no doubt.
The smell is suffocating. I gag, backing out of the room and slamming the door shut. I can’t stay there. I can’t be anywhere. I just run.
I bolt down the hallway, blind to where I am going, and crash directly into a solid chest. Strong hands grip my arms to steady me before I can fall.
“Whoa there. Easy,” a warm voice says. “Are you alright?”
I look up into a pair of smiling amber eyes. The student is tall, with bronze hair that catches the light and a relaxed confidence that is nothing like the Prince’s cold arrogance. He wears the same elite uniform, but on him, it looks less like armor.
“I’m sorry,” I stammer, trying to pull away. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
He lets me go but his smile doesn’t fade. He sniffs the air, his nose wrinkling slightly. “Let me guess. You’ve had an encounter with Alyssa.”
I stare at him, surprised. “How did you know?”
“Rot-magic is her signature,” he says with a sigh. “She’s not very creative. It also happens to be a pain to get off. Come on.”
He gestures for me to follow him. Hesitantly, I do. He leads me to a small courtyard with a clean water fountain.
“Here,” he says, turning on the tap. “That should help. At least with the smell.”
I splash the cool water on my face and scrub at my uniform sleeves, where the stench is strongest. He waits patiently, leaning against the stone wall.
“I’m Draven, by the way,” he says.
“Aria.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Aria. Even if you do smell like a week-old corpse.” He winks, and a small, unwilling smile touches my lips. It’s the first time I have smiled since I arrived.
“It’s not funny,” I say, but there’s no heat in my words.
“No, it’s not,” he agrees, his expression turning more serious. “She shouldn’t have done that. No one deserves that kind of welcome.”
“She thinks I’m trash. The Prince does too,” I blurt out, the words escaping before I can stop them.
Draven’s easy smile tightens. “Ronin has a lot of pressure on him. He isn’t always… kind.”
“He’s cruel,” I correct him softly.
Draven doesn’t argue. “He can be. But he isn’t the entire academy. There are good people here too.”
“I haven’t met any yet,” I say, then immediately regret it. “Except you. Thank you for this.”
“You’re welcome,” he says. “If Alyssa gives you any more trouble, you can come find me. I’ll talk to her.”
“You would do that?”
“Of course. I’m his Beta. Keeping the peace is part of my job description.”
His Beta. Ronin’s best friend. A cold knot forms in my stomach. Of course he is.
A sudden chill runs up my spine, a feeling of being watched. I glance up, my eyes scanning the balconies that overlook the courtyard.
And I see him.
Ronin stands on a stone balcony three floors up, looking directly down at us. His posture is rigid, his hands gripping the stone railing so tightly I can see the whites of his knuckles even from here. His face is a mask of stone, but his eyes burn with an intensity that feels like pure rage.
He isn’t looking at Draven. He is looking only at me.
