Chapter 6
“T his one is perfect for you.” Yasmine handed me a novel from the hundreds that swallowed her bed—so far, she had only unpacked her books from her luggage. “And yes, you have to read it if you want us to be friends.”
The book in question was titled Falling for the Ruthless King , and just the sight of the shirtless man on the cover made me imagine my father’s disapproving frown.
“I will! In exchange, I made you a study playlist. It’s known to improve the focus of your brain,” I said while attempting to retrieve my uniforms since Baron was lying on top of them.
Yas and I had decided to be roommates since we both ended up being Unifiers like she’d predicted. Our dorm was in the turrets by the east wing of the campus, near the forest. The walls, in line with our house’s color scheme, were celadon green, with plants scattered throughout on the pine bookshelves. The pointed arches in our windows reflected sunny patterns on the desk. Our kitchen was tiny. It might have been small, but it felt like home already.
“No one has ever made me a playlist before. That’s so thoughtful!”
I managed to stow away my final belongings from Baron’s grasp. “Well, no one has ever given me a book before—”
“ Lent you a book,” she corrected. “And I hope you’re not the type to fold the pages or crack the spine. The last time my two little sisters did that, I didn’t speak to them for months.”
I chuckled, folding my uniforms in my side of the closet. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Our uniform skirts were available in two lengths: one that reached down to our ankles and another that stopped just above the knees, both in smoky gray tweed patterns. We were required to embroider our blouses with the first letter of our house, while the tweed jackets were black, with bands of colors associated with our house—green for us, yellow for Pioneers, blue for Guardians, and purple for Tacticians. My fingers gently brushed against the green bow, which could double as a tie for girls. Depending on the season, we could choose between polos or long-sleeved pullovers.
“Well, I’m off to the library!” Yas said. “Watching over books is really the dreamiest part-time job ever, even if my Tbr is going to be on my will and pass down from generation to generation.” She paused. “You want to come with me?”
“No thanks. I’m probably going to explore around campus.”
By that, I meant unfurling the university’s handbook and studying it until I memorized every corner. I had the perfect Tchaikovsky composition for the task.
“I’ll see you later, then!”
Yasmine left, and I huddled on my bed, poring over the campus map. The structure of Pantheon University was built around the four houses: each house was associated with an academic college and a school facility. I closed my eyes and tried to memorize each detail.
Our house is linked to the College of Classics and the opera house. It’s affiliated with the earth element symbolizing strength.
The Guardians, positioned in the northeastern region by the river, embody the water element, housing the College of Law and the library, all reflecting their essence of wisdom.
On the west turrets, the Tacticians hold sway, anchored with the bridge of sighs by the Sciences College, the astronomy tower, and a chess club nestling within the ancient keeps. Their motto is cunning, and their element is air.
Finally, the Pioneers, in the northwest, oversee the College of Arts. Their motto echoes bravery, so naturally they’re associated with fire. Their dorms are closer to the gymnasium and they’re rumored to have once served as an underground fighting club.
“I nailed it, Baron,” I said to the cat. I leaped off the bed, finally ready to explore, when a knock on the door interrupted my momentum.
“Hi, this is the headmaster of the Unifiers. Can I come in?”
I stopped in my tracks. Our headmaster was Sylas Archambault, the son of one of Dad’s closest friends and business partners. I’d met Sylas’s father several times at dinner, and while I’d heard about Sylas, I’d never met him before. My father had, and I suspected he’d found me a new chaperone.
I adjusted my hair and took a deep breath. “Yes, of course.”
Sylas entered the room, his blue eyes locking onto mine. He was regal with golden hair, a beige Ralph Lauren polo shirt, and a dazzling, trusting smile that would melt any heart—the polar opposite of Levi.
“I’m doing rounds to check on our new students,” he said before raising his brows. “You’re Bruno Mercier’s daughter, right? Your father told me you’d be a first year here and hoped we’d meet. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
My brain was wired, thinking of everything that could go wrong. In my father’s head, I was still eight. “Should I be scared?”
“No.” He chuckled. “Your father is just very proud of you. The last time we had dinner with him, he couldn’t stop talking about his daughter coming here next fall. I also recognized you from the picture in your Halloween costume. It’s his lockscreen.”
I froze. It wasn’t a Halloween costume. It was a Barbie gothic dress I’d customized with thousands of ribbons before Grandma had told me that a career in fashion wasn’t meant for me. My father never talked about me to boys, but he did with Sylas for some reason. He must approve of him.
“I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” he added, facing my silence. “I just want you to know, if you need a friendly face to talk to, I’m here. The first week is often overwhelming, with the classes and picking a club.”
“Thank you, Sylas. I appreciate it.” I smiled back at him. “I actually had one question about the club. Do you know where I could sign up for the choir? I promised my father.”
First years had to choose a club, one that would fit well on their résumé, or, in my case, one that would assure my father that I wouldn’t forsake my Catholic upbringing.
“Inside the dining hall during meal times. They also perform every Sunday.” He took a step forward, lowering his voice. “Between us, I ended up joining a club my father insisted on. Fencing. It’s a big deal here. Super competitive, like how American football is for other universities.”
Dad used to have a picture of Mom in her fencing attire by his bedside table. He had locked it inside his drawer after I kept asking more questions about her. “My mom used to do competitive fencing. She was pretty good, but she stopped to become a midwife.”
Fencing seemed way more exciting than choir, but I could still hear my father’s voice in my head, warning me to stay out of trouble.
“If you’d like, we could—”
The atmosphere in the room grew tense as an all-too-familiar presence cut through our conversation like a blade slicing the air.
Levi.
His stance was confident, arms crossed as he leaned nonchalantly against the door, one step away from entering my dorm in his signature all-black outfit. His gaze fixated intensely on Sylas before soaring over to mine.
“Nice to see you again, little thief,” he said with a hint of sardonic amusement. “Don’t stop your conversation on my behalf. I’m sure this was all heart-warming and entertaining.”
I couldn’t contain the sharp narrowing of my eyes. “Stop calling me that.”
“You shouldn’t be here, Levi. This is Unifier territory,” Sylas threatened, crossing his arms.
“Why so hostile?” A chuckle clawed its way out, forced and artificial. “I’m only here because Tara asked for a meeting with the four heads of the houses. We all know how Tara gets, so don’t force me to drag you there myself because I will.”
Sylas’s jaw clenched. “Fine.” He gave me a brief nod before retreating into the hallway. “Aren’t you coming? You’re the head of a house too; it comes with responsibility.” His words were directed at Levi, but Levi’s attention was on me.
“I’m just wrapping up a loose end over here.”
“I thought you’d be above intimidating a first-year student,” Sylas defied.
“I think you’re underestimating her. She doesn’t sound defenseless to me, right, Dalia?”
It was the first time he’d called me Dalia, and it sounded like needles coming through his mouth. I lifted my head. “I’ll be fine.”
Without uttering a word, Sylas departed, leaving Levi and me alone. That was my chance to mend the rift between us.
I took a small step toward him. “Look, Levi—”
“Who gave you the right to call me by my first name? You haven’t earned it yet.”
I shook my head. “This is ridiculous.”
“You can call me your grace. I’ll allow it,” he said, tilting his head to the side.
“I’m sorry.” The words spilled out, fearing he might interrupt. “I never meant to hurt you, nor to take Lucie away from you, or…” Kissing you and not being able to confess the truth, resulting in my father destroying the last and most precious memory of your mother. “I never knew the consequences would be this big. You lied for me that day, and I remained silent. I’m ready to do whatever it takes to make amends.”
Levi’s eyes gleamed with a sinister light, and he straightened from the door. “Whatever it takes, huh?”
My throat tightened, and I craned my neck up to him. “Yes.”
“Be careful of promises you cannot keep, or I might force you into them, and I have a pretty wicked imagination.” He scanned every feature of my face as if searching for any sign of fear. “Would you beg for my forgiveness on your knees and do as I ask?”
Chills crept down my spine. “Humiliating me won’t change a thing.”
“Let me be the judge of that, even if I’m sure you’ll take pleasure in it, which would defeat the whole purpose of punishing you.”
“Lucie wouldn’t have wanted—”
Levi’s palm snapped into the doorframe, his neck angling toward me in a swift motion, his breaths quick and uneven.
“Don’t say her name,” he growled, his brows creasing, strands of his hair swaying before his eyes.
For a moment, the mask he wore, that veneer of control, shattered, revealing a raw torrent of pain lurking beneath the surface. Levi was still hurting. The knot in my heart stopped me from breathing. It was as if snakes were squeezing it until I suffocated.
“What do you want from me?” My voice quivered.
“You’ll find out soon enough, my broken doll.”
“I’m not a doll.”
Levi’s lips curled into a sly smirk as he stepped fully into my dorm, not bothering to seek permission. His sharp eyes roamed over every detail of my space, from the book Yasmine had given me to my violin resting on the desk. A lump formed in my throat as I watched his fingers grazing it, triggering the memories of what happened to the Cigno Nero.
With a low chuckle, he broke the silence. “You shouldn’t get too cozy with Sylas, by the way.”
“And let me guess, I should trust you instead?”
I wasn’t the type to bite out. I was the type to replay an argument in my head and think of all the things I should have said, but never did in the midst of action, but with Levi, somehow, the words flowed easily.
He stalked toward me, moving with the deadly grace of a black swan on the prowl. “You and I both know you shouldn’t. But the question is, who are you, Dalia? You act like a saint, the precious obedient daddy’s doll, but what lies underneath all that charade?”
I took advantage of the moment to slide toward my desk, positioning myself to shield my violin from his view while holding his stare.
“But don’t you worry, I’ll soon find out.” Levi smiled. He smiled the same way he had four years ago. A smile was usually an act of kindness, yet on Levi, it was a weapon. “I’ll dissect your soul.”
“Why do you pretend to be this cruel? I don’t buy it.” Grandma had told me that cruelty came from people suffering deep on the inside; it was a desperate cry for help.
“Because I can.” He stepped forward. “Because I like it.” Another step. “Because it’s who I am.”
I bumped into the desk, but he didn’t close the small gap separating us. “I don’t believe you.”
“Then believe that you connected yourself to my Wi-Fi, remember? By the way, you have terrible taste in passwords—‘IL0V3music,’ really? You should change it.”
I shook my head, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment and irritation. I’d picked that password when I was twelve. “You hacked into my stuff? You really have no shame.”
“Am I making you uncomfortable?” Levi’s voice grew darker, his hand resting on the desk, trapping my only way out—unless I crawled to my bed, not like it’d stop him.
I knew what he implied: that I was the one who’d intruded in his house first, and he was returning the favor.
“Yes,” I asserted.
“Good.”
That single word sent shivers down my spine as he petted Yasmine’s cat, who had jumped on the desk to cuddle with him. Traitor.
“I have nothing to hide.” I hated how pathetic my voice sounded—barely audible; weak.
“Be careful, you don’t want to challenge someone like me.” The slightest curl of his lips stalled the breath in my lungs. “Why do you always wear those ribbons in your hair?”
I tore my eyes away, my silly heart responding to him with fear, adrenaline, and something else, probably rage building in the pit of my stomach. “It’s personal.”
“Are you scared of me now?”
I gulped. “You’ll never scare me.”
Levi’s laughter turned dark and chilling. “Wrong answer. For you, I could be the worst.”
My lips parted, and my nails scratched my palms. He toyed with me, leaving me in the uncertainty of what could happen so I’d watch my back. I read about this in The Art of Warfare , a book my father had given me when I was ten.
My eyes landed on him. “I already said I was sorry.”
“Sorry is not enough,” he hissed, pushing my hair aside with an unsettling tenderness. His lips hovered dangerously close to my ear, but the venom of his next words quickly overshadowed any semblance of softness. “Maybe if you could cease to exist, that would be a good start.”
My eyes widened, and my chin trembled. “You don’t mean that… You can’t be implying that after your own mother…”
“I wish you had never existed,” he whispered, and while I couldn’t see his face, I felt that, for the first time, he was truly sincere. “As for now…”
His hand crept toward my neck, inching closer with an ominous intent.
“What are you doing?” I managed to choke out.
The ribbon in my hair came undone, my locks cascading freely before my eyes. He straightened his spine, my ribbon held hostage in his hand, his eyes narrowing on me. A knot tightened in my stomach. My breath came in short, sharp bursts, and I could feel the heat rising to my face. He slipped the silver ribbon onto his wrist, claiming it as his own without a trace of remorse.
“I’m keeping this,” he said with a sly scowl.
“No!” I cried out. “It’s my mother’s! Hand it back.”
“And therein lies the reason.” He stepped away from me, twiddling my ribbon around his wrist. “I’m afraid you’ll have to fight me for it.”
I pinched my lips. “You’re a…” Say something, Dalia. Anything . Dad isn’t here to reprimand you for any bad words you’d say. “A bully!”
“We all have a role to play, and you’re my little broken doll, coming alive just for me. All mine .” He tucked his hands in his pocket, his cold eyes locking me into place. “That’s why I came to your dorm. To crush every last bit of hope you could have about forgiveness. Seeing that defeated look in your eyes was just a bonus. I’m just getting started with you.”
I pressed my hand to my heart. If they couldn’t crush my hopes, it was unlikely Levi would succeed. He didn’t haunt my nightmares like them.
I clenched my fists to my side. “I’ll never be yours.”
“That’s debatable.” He raised an eyebrow, swaggering away from my dorm. “And by the way, you might want to consider using a VPN next time. It’s almost too easy for anyone to pry into your life.”
I glared at him. “I doubt this will keep you from digging into my life.”
“You’re right, it won’t, but starting now, I’ll be the only one with this privilege. I promise we’ll see each other very soon.”