Chapter 8
“T here’s a cake in the common room.” Cillian was pretty unapologetic for someone who had let himself into my dorm uninvited again —probably seeking refuge from Kay’s unpredictable mood swings. It was ironic for someone with a Dukelorm title who grew up in a household where his mom hosted the most extravagant charity balls across Europe.
“And what am I supposed to do with that piece of information?”
I had fallen half asleep in my computer engineering class, so I needed a distraction worthy of my brain, meaning revenge scheming on a certain white-haired girl or messing around with some new software since coding was the only language I enjoyed. None of those activities included killing my neurons with sugar.
“It has your name on it in a blue sparkle,” Cillian added with a thin, mocking smile, and that bastard never smiled. “You’ve got an admirer.”
“Impossible.”
Cillian and Kay had admirers; I didn’t. It had probably started during my youth, growing up in a town that treated my mother and me like stray dogs. Then she came along. The one with her eyes full of pity, unflinching as she gazed at me. The only girl I’d ever allowed to kiss me.
That led me to a no-kissing rule. Only a few women dared to approach me and my sadistic ways anyway unless I made an effort to hide who I was underneath for personal gain, which was too exhausting with little rewards. I didn’t get hard easily like a normal guy because fucking wasn’t enough to make me feel something.
“If Kay discovers the cake, you’ll never hear the end of—”
“Levi, man! You have to come see this shit!” Kay screamed probably from the Tactician’s common room.
We made a sharp turn and entered our lair. One might anticipate that my fellow Tacticians, all chosen for their cunning brains and pragmatic thinking, would try to do better by attempting to beat my chess algorithm on the dark leather sofas or at least play some tactical video games. But no, their chosen activity was to huddle around an utterly dreadful cake perched on the table.
It had sparkles on it, like an eight-year-old would have on her birthday cake, and my name with a little heart on the “i.” It smelled of what I’d imagine a unicorn world would smell like: pathetic, with so many colors it burnt my eyes.
“It’s not your birthday, right?” Kay said, knowing full well that it wasn’t as he cut himself a slice. “It’s exactly what I need after all the calories I burned from running.” He meant fucking, not running. “Who wants one?”
He smirked at me as if I should feel jealous about him eating my cake. He took a bite from it, and then his face changed, twitching with disgust. He struggled to swallow, and we all took a step back, afraid he’d puke that thing out. Seconds later, he sprinted out of the room.
I frowned and snapped my fingers at Michel, who had just finished washing the third years’ laundry as his first assignment as our mascot. “Take a bite.”
He grimaced. “It sounds disgusting.”
“Precisely the point. Eat.”
He reluctantly took a bite. “It’s the worst thing I’ve ever tasted. It tastes like vomit and snails.”
They all stared at me as if I had anything to do with it.
“I take back what I said earlier,” Cillian said. “Someone wants you dead.”
“I’m flattered.”
Truth be told, I, too, didn’t attach much importance to my own life. That was why I didn’t waste my time trying to gather a fucking conscience. All I cared about was to do this last thing. The ultimate revenge. Then? It’d be absolute black.
Kay came back with fast-paced footsteps, his toothbrush hanging from his mouth. “What’s that thing? That’s not funny! Who would do that to a cake? I swear to god, I’ll kick his shit out!”
“It’s a she,” I said, my lips curling into a thin line.
It was so sneaky and vicious of her that it almost surprised me. That was Dalia’s little payback gift for what I did to her violin. I would have expected her to cry or insult me, but she did not. She was more resourceful than I thought, even if this little cake was almost cute .
Unfortunately, she would never match my level of cruelty.
“Tell me her name, and I’ll ruin her life. That taste is still in my mouth, fuck!” Kay’s scream echoed in the common room as he rushed out of it.
Laughter erupted among the Tacticians, but as soon as their eyes met mine, a hush fell over them as if the prospect of facing consequences had stifled their mirth. Interesting. Were they afraid of me, or did the prospect of eating Dalia’s cake frighten them?
I cut myself a slice of that charming cake. “Don’t worry, I’ll handle this.”
“What are you doing?” Cillian frowned.
“Boss, you shouldn’t. This risk of food poisoning is—” Michel tried to stop me.
“It’s my cake, isn’t it?” I bit out.
None of them protested. Silence fell over the room, punctuated only by the intermittent flickering of the overhead light bulb.
I savored a bite. It was truly horrendous. She had put a lot of effort into this. It was so perfectly crafted, yet the aftermath was pure torture. I sneered.
It was all for me.
It tasted like pure hatred, and I loved it.
I had expected Levi to follow up on the cake, but I didn’t hear from him over the next few days. My mind buzzed with unanswered questions as I walked toward the sports building. Maybe Grandma’s recipe was more violent than I thought. Or perhaps he was such a disturbed, grim man that he’d actually appreciated the gesture? Unless Grandma had told Dad the truth, and in that case, he’d dealt with Levi himself? Where’s the nearest hospital or —
“So you picked fencing after all.” Sylas appeared at my side with an easy stride. “How did your dad take it?”
I grimaced. “I haven’t told him yet.”
“This will stay between us, don’t worry. I’m glad you’re here. We kind of suck. Fencing is mainly a Pioneer’s sport.” He smiled, holding the door of the gymnasium open for me. “Fencing is not my main sport. I’m on the national rowing team and captain of our house team. We train every morning at five thirty by the river.”
“That’s so impressive!”
“My dad doesn’t seem to believe it is.” Sylas snorted.
“Well, I do, and Yasmine and I will definitely cheer for you guys during competition weekends.”
He chuckled. “I think you’ll both fit in just fine with the Unifiers.”
He opened the door of the fencing room, and I blinked twice. It felt like an arena where Greek gods used to battle. The air carried the scent of sweat and leather. Large windows framed a view of the river, allowing natural light to bathe the room. Foils adorned the walls, casting a metallic sheen. Rows of masks hung neatly, waiting for their next bout.
“Women’s locker rooms are through the second door to the right. I’ll meet you right after?” Sylas said, grazing my arm slightly.
I swallowed. “Thanks.”
I threaded through the scattered fencers, each clad in pristine white gear. Pushing the door of the stony cold locker room, which made me think of one of a dungeon’s entrances, I spotted a girl with black, almost purplish straight hair, tightening her leather glove.
“Hi, I’m Dalia, first year,” I introduced myself, emptying my bag to prepare my fencing gear.
“Amelia.” She narrowed her eyes at me, and I peered at her uniform hung on the coat hanger. A Guardian.
I slipped into the white pants and knee-high socks. “I’m a little nervous about my first class.”
She closed her metallic locker with one final snap. “Fencing is not for the weak. They’ll eat you alive if you suck.”
With that, she left, and I said a quick prayer to Mary for this fencing class to go well. My trembling fingers threaded through the white jacket embroidered with Pantheon’s emblem. It snugly hugged my frame as I executed the final touch: tying my hair into Mom’s signature tight braid with the green ribbon she’d gifted me on our last birthday together. As long as I had her with me, I’d be fine. Armed in my gear, I returned to the fencing salle, finding Sylas standing in the middle.
“Fencing seems to suit you,” he commented with a grin.
And it seemed to suit him too. He carried an air of charm and elegance effortlessly, almost like a knight from a storybook.
“I met someone in the locker room, and she made it sound like fencing would be rough.”
Sylas’s smile widened. “She probably said that because of Tara.”
Tara. I had heard that name somewhere. I was pretty sure she was the leader of the Pioneers. Sylas pointed at a woman with dark skin and curly black hair. She stood tall and slender. It was the same woman Levi was with during the ceremony. My silly heart tightened.
“She’s undefeated. She’s the best here and doesn’t manage anyone, especially not first years. She’s ruthless.”
My gaze lingered on her, and I couldn’t help but think that if the school had a queen bee, she would be the undeniable contender. My attention turned to the group of men exiting the lockers.
“Not him.” My voice was a mere whisper.
Levi strolled across the room with a commanding presence, holding his fencing mask nonchalantly. So I hadn’t poisoned him, and he was indeed very much alive.
“Levi? I hope he wasn’t rude to you. It’s just a facade, but you should watch out for him too. He’s less bloody than Tara but will read you like an open book. No wonder they used to go out with each other, right?” he said jokingly, and my blood froze.
“They went out with each other?” I knew I shouldn’t be curious about that; I hated the pathetic interest in my voice.
“I mean, I don’t think either of them is actually capable of emotional attachment, but—” Sylas’s voice was cut by a rough voice from behind me.
“If you have another question about my sex life, ask me next time. Who knows, I might even provide a live demonstration,” Levi shot back at Sylas, which made him gulp before he eyed me up from head to toe. “Fencing. Interesting.”
I narrowed my eyes at him.
“Oh, and I did get your cute little gift,” he sneered. “It was delightful, but I’m afraid I don’t accept your apologies. You’ll have to do worse than that to impress me.”
He joined his fencing partner. Grandma’s recipe didn’t even give him a pimple on his way-too-perfect face, and worse, it was all amusing to him. I was naive. The only language he understood was ruthlessness, and I clearly wasn’t on his level. I needed a new strategy.
“Gift?” Sylas asked.
“It’s nothing,” I said.
“Greetings, all!” The teacher walked into the room, devoid of fencing gear. “Tara will lead the introductory class since I must attend a meeting. I have complete faith in her expertise. You’re in capable hands.”
The girl from earlier, Amelia, widened her eyes in recognition. Sylas couldn’t suppress a chuckle, and a hushed murmur swept through the class.
“Looks like we have a couple of new students here this year.” Tara’s gaze fixated on me, a smirk playing on her lips. “Let’s see what you’re all worth.”
An inexplicable unease washed over me as if I were adrift in a sea teeming with predatory sharks.