Chapter Six
Bright morning light cut low across the floor of the Orientation Hall, washing the stone in a cool, pale sheen.
Without the crowd from the night before, the space felt quieter, stripped of ceremony.
The crystal relic no longer hovered at the center and whatever force had charged the air then was absent now.
All that remained was the stone and the silence as the first year cohorts filtered in with murmured guesses about what came next.
Cassara chose her seat with care—centered, but not conspicuous.
She wasn’t the first to arrive, and she wouldn’t be the last. Her posture was relaxed, but her eyes moved constantly, mapping the room and more importantly the other students.
She wasn’t the only one watching, of course, but she was the best at pretending she wasn’t.
Julian slid into the seat beside her, his knee bumping hers lightly. The action was deliberate but she didn’t move.
“Hm.” He leaned back, arms folding lazily across his chest. “Didn’t see you at breakfast.”
Cassara didn’t look at him. “Wasn’t hungry.”
A lie, technically. She’d arrived at the great hall early, poured herself a cup of tea, stared at it for a solid ten minutes, then left it untouched on the table. Her body ached, her arm was still tender, and her mind had spun all night like it was still climbing the rigging of a spiraling airship.
Julian made a quiet noise of acknowledgment, the kind that said he didn’t buy it but didn’t care enough to call her out. “Suit yourself. The lemon scones were decent.”
She shook her head, finally allowing a sideways glance toward him and caught, just briefly, the way his gaze lingered on her, studying her like she was a puzzle he was determined to figure out.
Across from them the red-haired girl lounged, back too straight to be relaxed, one ankle hooked over her knee like the room existed for her alone. Gideon sat beside her, his arms crossed and jaw set, a silent dare carved into his silhouette.
The air shifted as the last of the students settled into place. Slow, measured footsteps approached from behind the dais. The real morning was about to begin.
The headmistress stepped forward and this time, she didn’t stand above them, but among them, level, poised, and no less formidable. The light caught on the pale metal of her mantle, and for a moment, the room held its breath.
"You are here," she said simply, "because each of you made the choice to commit yourselves to this path."
A few students straightened in their seats. Cassara remained still, waiting.
"Now we begin the real work."
From her sleeve, the headmistress drew a narrow rod and tapped the floor once. Arc-light surged across the stone, unfurling a projection in the air above them, row upon row of empty crests arranged in a tiered formation that pulsed faintly like a heartbeat.
“Vallemont runs on competition,” she said. “Prestige is not ceremonial. It is power. It decides your instructors, your unit invitations, your training slots. It decides which names are remembered and which are dismissed.”
A hush rippled through the first-years.
Across the row, a wiry boy with cropped black hair was hunched over his Aether Codex, fingers flying across its surface, mouth pressed in a thin, determined line. Liri looked daunted. Curious too, maybe, and eager, but not afraid.
Sonia's expression had sharpened, the bored disdain from earlier replaced with something calculating. She tilted her head slightly, gaze flicking across the room as if already sorting students into categories of threat and irrelevance.
Olivette sat straighter, hands folded neatly in her lap, but her eyes tracked the glowing tiers with quiet intensity. No excitement. No fear. Just focus.
And Gideon... Cassara couldn't read him at all. He sat perfectly still, expression neutral, gaze fixed on the projection. Nothing in his posture suggested triumph or concern. He could have been watching paint dry for all the emotion he showed.
The headmistress raised her hand once more. The projection dimmed. Magic bled from the air casting the chamber back into its more mundane form of stone and morning light.
“That will be all,” the headmistress said. “You are dismissed to your classes. Good luck as you take your first true steps into the future that waits for you.”
The corridor buzzed with residual tension. First-years clustered in small knots, comparing notes, trading quiet speculation about the Prestige system, already weighing who might land where. Cassara moved through them without pausing, her stride even and expression composed.
The hallway narrowed as it curved toward the central stairwell. She was nearly through when she heard it—a light, almost musical voice too smooth to be casual.
“You move fast for someone carrying that much legacy weight. Not to mention those bruises.”
Cassara slowed, turned slightly. It was the red-haired girl, the one she kept seeing with Gideon. As much as she wanted to just turn and keep walking, Cassara stopped and regarded the girl with thinly veiled disdain. “Something you wanted?”
“Just a word.” She fell into step beside her like they were old friends instead of strangers circling each other like predators. “You’re Cassara Allencourt, right?”
Cassara didn’t bother confirming. They both knew she wasn’t really asking.
“I heard you almost got yourself killed during the attack. Climbing up where you didn’t belong, falling like some sort of damsel in distress. Had to get rescued by Instructor Veth? Very dramatic.”
Heat flushed Cassara’s neck, but her expression remained cool. “And?”
“Nothing,” the girl replied airily. “Must be nice, having all that confidence. Thinking you could fix that stabilizer when you’ve never seen combat a day in your life.” She gestured vaguely toward Cassara’s injured arm. “How’s that working out for you?”
“I stopped the ship from tilting,” Cassara said, the words out before she could stop them.
“And then needed saving anyway.” The girl smiled. “Some people think their name or their attempt at heroics are enough to earn respect here. But Vallemont doesn’t care who you were before, or what desperate stunts you pull. Only who survives now.”
Cassara’s teeth clicked lightly together, but she didn’t take the bait. “Is there a point to this, or are you just bored?”
The girl shrugged, glancing down the hall where another knot of students filtered into a classroom. “Only that you might want to be careful where you throw your weight around. Especially with certain company.”
Cassara’s eyes narrowed. “What company?”
The girl didn’t smile this time. “Gideon.”
There it was. No careful circling, no pretense.
“Whatever sparks you might have felt,” she added, voice calm but clipped, “don’t get your hopes up. He’s not interested. Especially not in legacy brats who need rescuing when they try to play hero.”
Cassara nearly laughed.
“You know where Gideon was during that attack?” the redhead continued, voice dropping even lower.
“He was securing the cargo hold where three first-years were trapped. No audience. No glory. Just doing what needed to be done.” Her gaze slid over Cassara.
“Girls like you,” she said. “You think you’re special because your daddy has money.
You’re used to being wanted, being watched, but Gideon isn’t like the boys at embassy dinners. ”
A slow, satisfied pause. “He doesn’t chase after ornaments that break if they fall.”
Cassara didn’t answer, not because she couldn’t, but because the words that rose weren’t sharp enough. Not yet. Not for a girl like this. The kind who smiled while cutting you open.
So she held her tongue, refusing to give the girl the satisfaction of a reaction.
Cassara was about to turn and leave when Gideon’s voice came from behind them. “Verena.”
He approached without hurry, eyes flicking between them, face unreadable as usual. Cassara didn’t meet his gaze, uncertain of how much of the conversation he had heard.
Verena’s entire demeanor shifted. Her smile widened, shoulders softening like she’d been mid-joke. “We were just chatting. Weren’t we, Cassara?”
Once again, Cassara didn’t reply, at least not with words. The look she shot Verena could’ve flayed stone.
Verena seemed unbothered as she turned back to Gideon, fingers brushing his arm. “Come on or we’ll be late to our next class.”
From the corner of her eye, Cassara saw Gideon glance her way.
She kept her gaze lowered and pretended to scroll through her Codex.
Seconds ticked by and Cassara could feel Gideon watching her, though he said nothing.
When she’d finally had enough, she looked up only to discover that they were gone.
Cassara stood still for a moment, trying to piece together what exactly that had been. A warning? A performance? Perhaps both. It didn’t matter. Whatever game Verena thought she was playing, Cassara wasn’t interested in being a piece on the board.
She didn’t even know Gideon, didn’t care. Not like that.
And yet…
The insult wormed beneath her skin.
There was a rustle of movement behind her.
“I don’t like her either,” came a soft, breathless voice.
Cassara turned to see Liri standing a few paces back. Her satchel looked even more lopsided than usual and her braid had half-unraveled down her shoulder.
“She’s mean,” Liri added simply, wrinkling her nose.
“So am I,” Cassara pointed out.
“Yeah,” Liri agreed, causing Cassara to huff in amusement. “But you don’t hide it. She’s the fake-smile kind of mean. I hate that kind.”
Cassara blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness. No flowery politeness or careful flattery. Just truth, delivered without agenda.
“Thanks, I think,” she replied before she could stop herself.
Liri surprised her by offering a smile that felt genuine. “You’re welcome.”
Then, glancing down the hall in the direction Gideon and Verena had gone, she added, “But we should go or we’re going to get stuck sitting in the back.”