Chapter 2
two
. . .
After climbing the stairs to my room, I open the door, stepping into the palatial room I will call home for the next two years at Drithm. It seems that I’m the first one here. My bodyguard, Kuron, and my handmaid, Mera, have ensured that all my belongings are perfectly arranged and unpacked.
Taking a moment to fully absorb my new room, I spin in place and can’t help but feel a sense of fullness, a sense of joy, and a sense of finality. I'm finally here. I move through the room, which looks more like a sanctuary than a dorm, and smile.
My gaze drifts to the windows, where elegant white drapes cascade from the ceiling, currently held back with a golden rope. The large windows let in a soft, natural light, filling the room with a gentle glow of sunlight.
I smile softly, noticing that Mera has already laid out my school uniform for the day on a dresser near the closet. Inside the large walk-in space, Mera also unpacked and organized my clothes, neatly displaying my dinner gowns.
A giddy noise escapes me when I wander into the connecting bathroom, noticing that we each have our own.
It’s rare for students to have living arrangements such as these, but I gladly accept this upgrade.
My bathroom is stunning, its architecture beautifully reflecting the same style as the rest of the dorm, with white stone and arched entrances.
Noticing the time, I quickly rinse off and then dress in my uniform: stretchy black pants and a fitted black shirt.
I spritz my favorite mist and style my hair into six braids, tying them back into a long ponytail.
My natural waves cascade down my back. Feeling refreshed and ready, I grab my tablet and Prism, slip them into a bag, and exit my room.
However, I collide with a solid wall just as the door clicks shut behind me.
The collision knocks the wind out of me, sending me stumbling backward and off balance. Before I hit the wall, two firm, calloused hands grip my arms, steadying me. My heart races as I look up, and up, into a pair of intense sapphire blue and silver eyes.
Oops.
“Princess,” Prince Anders drawls, his voice rich, resonating somewhere deep in my bones and uncomfortably low in my stomach.
A strange current of energy courses through my body, and I can’t help but tilt my head slightly to get a better look at him.
His eyes swirl with an otherworldly quality, catching me off guard.
The movement is so subtle you wouldn’t be able to see it from a step away.
I’ve never met anyone with eyes like his. When he blinks, the moment vanishes, and I remember who we are and the fact that we aren’t friends. Can’t be.
“Anders,” I respond curtly, though I manage to nod politely even as I take a step back, as if some distance will quell the heat pooling in my stomach.
The moment I inhale, I’m hit with an intoxicating wave of scents: the briny tang of raging seas, vibrant notes of citrus groves, and warm and woody sandalwood mixed with something distinctly masculine.
The aroma envelops me, heady and rich, and for a reason I can’t quite explain, I feel the overwhelming urge to lean in and fill my lungs with more.
The amused look he gives me is enough to make me flinch inwardly, but I mask it, maintaining my careful composure.
“Running late to orientation?” he asks mockingly, with a raised brow and a slight quirk on his gorgeous full lips.
He crosses his arms over his broad chest, just below where his buttons hang open, revealing sun-kissed skin.
The action and realization of how close he is makes my throat dry.
“No, I will be early if you’ll just excuse me.
” I pivot on my heel, desperate to put as much distance between us as possible.
Just as I think I’ve managed to get away, his arm shoots out, hooking around my waist and yanking me back toward him.
Heat and energy flare where his arm makes contact, and I silently curse him.
“Wrong way, Princess,” he purrs, his words dripping with a smoothness that sends a fresh wave of tingles across my skin.
The way the ‘S’ rolls off his tongue feels like a magnetic pull, awakening me.
Blushing furiously, I turn away from him, acutely aware of the flush in my cheeks, and begin walking in the opposite direction, determined to get away quickly.
I don’t have time to consider my reaction because humiliation burns worse.
Much to my annoyance, his long strides keep pace with me, shadowing my every step.
“Don’t you have some women to flirt with or a mirror you need to brood in front of?” I toss over my shoulder, annoyed that I can’t seem to move fast enough.
He snorts. “Jealous?”
I almost laugh. “Did your mother drop you on your head as a baby?” I stomp around a corner. “You do realize that the system doesn’t revolve around you?”
He grips my elbow, swinging me around so fast I nearly collide with him again. “You’re a feisty little thing. Where’s the beloved princess that has the whole system wrapped around her finger?” My nostrils flare with barely contained annoyance.
“Has it ever occurred to you, Prince Anders,” I say with a saccharine smile, “that maybe it’s just you that I don’t like?” His eyes narrow, and he clenches his jaw. I inwardly do a little dance for getting under his skin.
He steps closer, our bodies nearly brushing, and I have to tilt my head to look up at him.
“Do tell me, Princess,” he says with an icy, calm voice.
“What is it about me you don’t like? You don’t even know me.
” True. Not that I’m willing to admit it.
I know enough, and he doesn’t realize that women love to talk.
Talk and talk and talk. And who is the number one source of gossip? The annoying prince before me.
“I know enough,” I retort, spinning on my heel and yanking my arm out of his grasp.
I only get two steps before he responds, “I thought you knew better.” My steps falter, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of turning around.
“Don’t believe everything you hear.” Shame and annoyance prick my body as I storm away.
Am I acting childish? Yes. Is he correct? Also yes. Do I want to apologize? Nope.
Ignoring him as best I can, I navigate toward the second-level classrooms, where holographic signs hover over each door, announcing which room is dedicated to each subject.
The sounds of chatter and laughter echo off the walls, alerting me to my destination.
Still, it’s the palpable tension between Anders and me that commands my focus—that and the storm brewing between us.
Down the long hall toward the back, I find the bridge to the Executive Hall almost instantly, thanks to the crowd, and make my way across, only to get stuck at the entrance.
I can feel the heat of Anders at my back as we are met with a bottleneck of students from all three dorms shuffling into the same space.
The hall is bigger than any other Order’s. Arched windows make up the back wall, overlooking the forest behind it, with long, thick drapes running the height of the wall. There’s a dais located in front where professors are already gathering.
The room is shaped in a semi-circle broken into three colors. Veker is positioned to the right, featuring its deep forest green seats. Bragr is positioned to the left, with its light ivory seats, and the navy blue seats at the center of the room are reserved for Taeolyn.
“Raea,” Kellan waves from ahead. I shake off the strange buzz of energy and make my way over to him. “Hey, I saved us seats.” He wraps his arm around my shoulders as we turn up the stairs behind us into the Taeolyn section and find seats along the third row on the second level.
There’s a hum in the air as students trickle in and find their friends. Around the hall, the seats are filling up with juniors and seniors. I scan the crowd, taking in the sight of familiar faces and noting who has been placed where. It’s one of my favorite things about the first day back.
My kingdom is the largest, and as the sole heir, my parents keep me secluded when I’m not in school.
I just want to fit in. I want the other women to like me, but it feels like I’m always the outsider.
When I try to join in, everyone typically grows quiet, out of respect or annoyance, I’m not sure.
So I watch. I watch, and I smile and remind myself I’m blessed to have the friends I do.
The hall grows louder while Kellan recounts his first meeting with his new dorm mate.
It’s all I hear before his voice is muffled because, as much as I shouldn’t, I can’t keep my eyes off Anders, especially now that he’s not looking my way.
It’s then that I really notice him for the first time, or at least allow myself to.
Since I last saw him over a year ago, time has been kind to him–too kind, really.
His face is carved into sharp angles, impossibly gorgeous, and his locks of dark brown hair, nearly black, are styled in a way that looks effortlessly perfect.
I can’t help but fantasize about running my fingers through it, tousling those silky strands just enough to see his reaction.
The thick, dark hair contrasts with his piercing blue eyes.
Anders’ complexion is a rich, sun-kissed olive shade, evidence of long days spent on sandy beaches at home, where his palace resides.
As if this weren’t enough to enthrall me, the tattoo wrapping around his left arm catches my eye.
It’s a blue and black octopus that is said to safeguard the Okenen kingdom.
The design clings to his bulging biceps, stretching over his skin and peeking just above the edge of his collar, leaving me to question what other tattoos might be hidden beneath layers of clothes.
His other arm bears the crest of his kingdom tattooed on his right bicep.
I want to trace it with the tips of my fingers.