Chapter 31
Quill
First Day in Court
Atli ?rvarsson
The silence that descended on Maplecrest University's largest lecture hall settled over the hundreds of law students, all of them staring curiously at the director of the law school, eager to gossip after the ceremony about which candidate they would bet their daddy's generous allowance on.
Arnold began his speech on traditions and values, not without his strange Latin collective oath, which everyone joined in, even the professors who had gathered in front of him in the front rows or behind him on the stage.
My gaze was fixed on Davian, who had only looked at me when I had entered the hall.
Did he regret it? Did he wish he had chosen a better candidate? Or had he simply been eagerly awaiting the day when I would finally leave this town?
All weekend I had been thinking about what my decision meant. More time with Lara and Thomas, more opportunities for writing research, more contact with Davian, but also more confrontations with my father.
I didn't feel ready, but I had to be.
My family had been in good spirits all weekend, going on hunting trips in the woods, the men taking a trip to the local golf and gentlemen's club, which even Davian had supposedly attended, before hosting a private dinner for four in the park and joining two events with other wealthy families.
They had ignored my existence with their fake smiles because they all had thought I wouldn't be here today, but the second my father had spotted me in the audience a few minutes ago, hell had frozen over on his face.
It was one of those gazes from him that I couldn't hold, so I looked away, tried to focus on Davian, who, in his gray-blue three-piece suit, fit in perfectly with these people up front. Only I knew he was an angel whose wings had been clipped.
“Those students who are about to be invited up to this stage will receive a great honor,” Arnold’s stern voice boomed through the hall’s loudspeakers.
“These five students have worked hard, demonstrated discipline, achieved excellent results, and shown their potential, thereby convincing the law faculty’s honorary board. ”
Biting my lower lip, I suppressed a grin, grateful that everyone – even the professors – was focused on Arnold.
What happened if you didn't set the inkwell back upright in time? The ink kept running. Until it corrupted every sheet of paper on the desk, soaking through every layer of paper.
Joseph Richter was about to learn that it would have been better to close the inkwell, even banish it from his desk. A desk he had otherwise kept so perfectly tidy for his mentor, who would now soon see for the first time that his student was not the perfect lawyer he pretended to be.
Monica looked at me with a joyful smile, but I avoided her gaze, my knees trembling, because I didn't want people to look at me and draw conclusions before it was officially announced.
A small part of me still doubted that Davian hadn't made a better choice at the last second.
“May the debates show who among the top five is capable of presenting the virtues of this faculty with dignity.”
As the students applauded, I didn't miss the withering glances Troy, Anthony, and Joseph exchanged, Troy's face clearly showing scorn before he looked at Davian.
And Davian... smirked, which in turn made Troy's sneer more hostile.
Warmth erupted inside me, and only then did I notice that my fingers were already bleeding.
Davian was confident in his choice. Even though I had warned him that I would be bad. So either he had really changed his mind last minute, or he was sure that with me he had a chance against Troy's candidate. Yet it was certain that whoever Troy's candidate was, he would debate me into the ground.
Davian would be disappointed. But that was the price I was willing to pay.
I couldn't allow my father to take over this faculty. This unpredictable man did not belong in such a responsible position.
Borgov II
Carlos Rafael Rivera
A student in a suit – like everyone else here – brought a silver tray with five anthracite-colored envelopes up to the podium, where Professor Fitzek immediately took the first envelope, broke the black seal, and turned to the audience, clearing his throat.
“Professor Thadd?us Faber.” The aforementioned stepped forward, this time wearing a gold and green designer neckerchief. “With John Wexler.”
The crowd applauded as a handsome young man with blond hair from one of the highest semesters rose.
Someone I thought I recognized from the list of top students on the internet.
Someone who had many friends on campus and who seemed as if he could win any debate with his charismatic demeanor.
Wasn't his father the owner of the Wexler Law Firm in Washington, D.C. ?
Arnold shook the young man's hand, congratulated him, and had him step next to Professor Faber before reaching for the next envelope, which looked a little crumpled.
“Professor Anthony Richter.” My brother stepped forward and immediately the audience fell silent again. “With Feng Zhou.”
A murmur arose as a young Asian man, also four semesters ahead of me, stood up and walked to the stage with an innocent smile.
Wasn't that the idealistic son of a wealthy Chinese family that Thomas had told me about? He was said to be highly intelligent, politically very active, and eloquent, as well as fluent in ten languages.
Father held the bridge of his nose as Arnold congratulated the young man, which my brother didn't seem to notice.
Anthony patted his candidate on the shoulder with the smile of a Cheshire cat, as if the two had been friends for years, which was actually the case with my brother and his favorite students.
The heated whispering subsided again as Arnold opened the next envelope.
“Professor Joseph Richter.” I thought I saw the hint of a proud smile on Arnold's lips as my father stepped forward, knowing immediately who was on his card. “With Zachary Faber.”
The crowd applauded as if no one had seen this coming, and the boys around Zach congratulated him. Lucas patted him on the shoulder, while I wondered if I would be able to compete against Zach.
My gut feeling said no, and that would be okay, because losing would be enough to knock my father off his feet. Besides, Zach would prepare like a man possessed and had his intelligence, contacts, and other academic aces up his sleeve.
Zach even received an appreciative smile from Arnold, and for the first time, there was something on his father's face that vaguely resembled pride, even though Joseph had snatched his candidate from under his nose.
Had Zach not wanted to be trained by his father? Quite possibly. And apparently Thadd?us Faber wasn't after the faculty throne either, because he seemed satisfied.
Old Fitzek hadn't even opened the next envelope when his son stepped forward, a smug smile on his lips, while students began to whisper.
I had thought about what would happen if not only I lost, but Fitzek Junior's candidate did too. Would Joseph's candidate then be enough to strengthen old Fitzek's decision to name Father as his successor? If so, then I had a problem.
“Professor Troy Fitzek with...” Arnold raised his eyebrows. “Lucas McMillan.”
Wait. What?
The equally surprised crowd erupted in thunderous cheers, some even standing up, and Lucas let his friends celebrate him before turning to the audience with his arms raised and a triumphant smile, walking up the side stairs of the stage.
Zach's expression went blank for a few seconds, but Lucas ignored his friend, letting Arnold congratulate him before walking over to Troy, who was smiling confidently as if the two of them were best friends now.
Troy pulled him toward him, grabbed his wrist, and raised his hand, and the crowd applauded again.
That was... a surprising turn of events.
Lucas was willing to compete against his friend? Either he didn't care about his spot at Maplecrest Law School, or the next few months would reveal how close their friendship really was.
I remembered Tony's words.
“When you're studying law, you don't know who your true friends are until you graduate together.”
One of them would be kicked out of Maplecrest. That was for sure.
I was betting on Lucas, even though he had performed in the last debate as if he had already participated in real court proceedings.
Successfully. Like me, he had gotten personal, but in such a cunning way that Davian hadn't been able to say anything against it.
The fact that his debate opponent had withdrawn from university the next day spoke volumes.
Arnold picked up the next envelope. The last one.
Shit. What had I been thinking?
A cowardly part of me wanted to pray that there was a completely different name in there, but when Davian's gaze met mine, I held my breath.
“And last but not least, Professor Davian Rydell with...”
Castle
Halsey
Arnold paused, and the silence in the hall was unmistakable. Something in his expression darkened, and he clutched the card as if he needed to hold on to it.
At some point, he looked back at Davian, who nodded as if he wanted Arnold to continue, while the students’ whispers rose and the other professors on stage now stared at Davian, as if human lives depended on the name in that envelope.
Arnold read the name again, then looked up, directly at me, his gaze so cold that I could now be absolutely certain that the next few months at Maplecrest would spell my emotional downfall.
“Quillon Veritas.”
The shocked and surprised faces of young men turned toward me as I slowly rose, trying to focus only on the stage.
It felt good to know that I was responsible for the way Fitzek Junior's smile just shattered and slipped from his face, leaving him momentarily forgetting how to breathe.
Anthony also seemed to be getting too little oxygen, because the color drained from his face. I could already hear the argument that awaited me, even though nothing could compare to my father's concentrated anger.
He stood there with a look I would have liked to capture. As if his life were passing before his inner eye. As if he were Ebenezer Scrooge and the mere sight of me were the Ghost of Christmas Future, who had just revealed his destiny to him.
Monica stood up and began to applaud, and immediately other professors joined her, but not a single student applauded.
They all stared as I walked down the stairs with my head held high.
Their rival. The enemy of their favorite candidates. A difficult-to-calculate threat to their bets. A woman. An intruder who now wanted to snatch a throne that was not hers.
I was unwelcome here. But when you've been told your whole life by everyone that you were unwanted, you eventually became used to it.
The last thing I would be here was a nameless chess piece that no one would remember once it disappeared from the chessboard.
My name would be in the history books. Beneath it, the story of a woman who had brought down kingdoms like a dangerous disease. A trail of ink that would run through a book. Unignorable.
Look what you've turned me into, Father.
I looked him straight in the eyes, which were frozen.
If I go down, I'll take you with me.
Monica smiled proudly at me, patting my shoulder, which caused Arnold to look at her as if he realized just now she was behind Davian's unwanted choice.
I strode toward him, onto the stage, forcing him to break Monica's stare and turn to me.
His hesitation, my triumph.
Finally, he held out his left hand while his right eyebrow twitched. His deadly stare did not leave me cold. And yet I raised the hand covered in ink-blue notes.
He stared down at the chaos that adorned my body, and behind him, Davian suppressed a smirk by looking at the floor.
Now I also had to fight the urge to grin at Arnold, my knees still as soft as butter.
“Congratulations, Miss Veritas.” Arnold shook my hand as firmly as only Germans had ever done before. “May the debates show how worthy you are of this country’s legal system.”
The threat in his icy eyes was the only sign of resentment he couldn't hide.
Without a word, I walked past him, fighting hard against the resentful glares from Zach and Lucas, enduring Tony's obvious despair, and feeling my stomach tighten when I noticed my father's clenched fists.
He won't hurt you here. Relax.
His gaze was fixed, intense, as if he wanted to strangle me with it.
He was too close to me, I was about to step past him...
Focus on something else.
Automatically, I looked at the only man on that stage whose silent judgment I didn't have to endure at that moment. Never would I have thought that cornflower blue could have such a calming effect.
The sideways glance Troy gave Davian was the epitome of a declaration of war. But Davian only looked at me. And for a moment, there were only two authors. Two souls who would find each other again and again in a crowded room.
I positioned myself next to him, tempted to reach for the only thing that could either calm my pulse or cause it to race uncontrollably. His hand. But God forbid I make such a fatal mistake.
Arnold turned back to the audience and continued his speech on the course of the debates, but I was too distracted by all the glances that kept returning to me.
Lucas leaned slightly toward me. His voice was so quiet that no one but me could hear him.
“You think you can beat us, Smudge?” He snorted quietly until his undertone slipped into a razor-sharp edge. “We’ll show you that dirty little sluts have no place here.”
She is a storm chaser.
Every rumble of thunder ignites euphoria in her.
Not because she doesn't know how dangerous lightning strikes are.
On the contrary. She knows nothing else but electricity in the air.
– Blue