Chapter 2 #2
He stands tall, towering over most of the other students and staff around him, and it’s impossible to ignore the sheer strength radiating from him.
Even in the all-black uniform, the outlines of his toned muscles are evident in the firm contours of his torso, the definition in his arms, and the powerful build of his thighs in his combat pants.
An inappropriate desire spreads through me as I drink all of him in, imagining what it would be like to be pressed beneath his weight.
Anders is, without a doubt, the most attractive person I’ve ever met. It’s a shame that he doesn’t have a sparkling personality to match.
For a minuscule second, I allow the defenses of my mental shield that protects my Bond to open.
I have been practicing over break to visualize and construct a white iron gate to conceal the Bond that flows aimlessly about.
But when I let those gates open, I’m immediately overwhelmed by a surge of intense light so powerful that it has me gasping for air.
Startled, I slam my mental gates closed, shutting him out.
There’s no way I can entertain my Bond with him. Not now, not ever.
“Raea?” Kellan asks, breaking my gaze.
“What?” I ask, only now realizing I haven’t heard anything he has said for the last few minutes.
Embarrassment washes over me. What the hell was that?
My eyes snap back to Anders one last time, and I find him staring back, something dark lurking in the depths of those beautiful eyes despite his emotionless face. Did he feel it, too?
“I asked if you’ve received your schedule yet,” Kellan says, brows knitted together. Sweat begins to bead, pooling on my lower back, and I shift uncomfortably. They need to turn on the air.
“I think we get them in Divisions.” Why do I feel so breathless? The question is there on the tip of his tongue, but the projection of a voice cuts it off before he has the chance to ask.
“Attention. Attention!” Chancellor Xara calls out over the speaker, saving me from my flustered thoughts.
My eyes swing to the dais, finding the Chancellor looking around the room.
I exhale a breath I didn’t know I was holding, noting her vibrant amber eyes against her ebony skin, her jet-black hair braided into a tight crown.
She is fierce and loyal, a leader I admire.
The room falls silent as I settle into the comfortable seat.
“Great, you all listen,” she chuckles alongside the students.
“Welcome back to another year of Drithm Academy. Most of you know each other. Some are transfers from other schools. I expect you all to act like the nobility you are. You are now in your dorms; next, you are assigned to your divisions. Seniors, you maintain your assigned divisions from last year.
“As Executives, you are the leaders, the oldest, the example for younger students, bearing the most responsibility. This year’s dorm leaders are as follows.
” Only then do I notice other students mingling among the professors—all except Anders.
His hands tuck into his pants, a look of pure boredom on his face, as if he has somewhere else to be.
As a prince, he attends far worse meetings, yet he could at least try to appear happy.
As a royal, it’s ingrained in us that everyone watches.
It’s unfair, a simple fact. Every movement is judged and scrutinized, and people wait for a slip-up.
I know what one little mistake can mean—the media’s whispers of “spoiled princess,” “unstable heir.” Anders belongs up there, acting as Okenen’s future; he is their future.
“Taeolyn, your dorm leader is Prince Anders Rykerson.” What?
My heart stutters, a physical jolt. Only now do I realize how daft I am.
Of course, he is. The sheer arrogance of his early stance, the way he commanded attention even then.
..it all clicks into place. His dorm. I huff a disbelieving laugh, leaning back as my thoughts flee.
Energy ripples up my spine, the jolt so quick I almost hiss.
I bite into my bottom lip, reaching for Kellan, half expecting static to zap him.
To my playful annoyance, nothing happens.
Kellan’s brow lifts in question as I pout like a petulant child whose prank failed.
He chuckles, snaking an arm around me, tugging me closer until my head rests on his shoulder. “You’re warm,” he whispers.
“It’s just hot in here.” He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, but I settle onto his shoulder again, uncaring.
“Veker, your dorm leader is Lord Elex Morrison.” Elex, slender and impeccably dressed, steps forward. He looks ready for an intelligence meeting. “Bragr, your dorm leader is Lady Corine Cazl.” The tall redhead steps forward, arms behind her back, nodding like she accepts orders.
“For some of you, this is your final year as a senior Executive. You will take on leadership roles, working alongside our kingdoms to learn what awaits after graduation or begin transitioning into selected new roles. Your king makes the final choice.” She pauses, glancing around the room at the two hundred or so students.
Her eyes connect with mine, a soft smile crossing her face.
Though our relationship is not always smooth, she often puts my parents in their place when they overstep in the name of “protecting” me.
“As Executives, we brief you on current happenings; we do not shield you. So it is my duty to explain today’s events.
” The room falls unnaturally quiet. “As we understand so far, the veil had a momentary loss of power, lasting no more than five minutes.” Whispers spread through the crowd.
“During that time, a temporary loss in magic occurred throughout the system. Reports are still being assessed, but it appears that one of Terria’s volcanoes in Kadora has erupted, reaching a nearby village.
Efforts are underway to recover survivors.
” Gasps, then a cry, ripple through the room.
My stomach sinks, my mind whirling with questions.
We know the veil weakens, though even the best scientists and historians cannot fully explain why.
“We will update you as more information comes in. Keep your tablet on you. Continuing on.”
After Chancellor Xara finishes introducing this year’s classes and professors, we are dismissed into our dorm halls.
With Kellan at my side, we make our way to the top of the stadium seating, finding our places along the edge.
The Taeolyn hall is smaller, its purpose the same, but now it is Anders’ territory.
I have spent years waiting for this moment.
This is the height of excitement in my life, the closest I get to freedom.
Once I graduate, I spend my days shadowing my mother, attending luncheons and events with a fixed smile.
No more hiking forests, no more monitoring intelligence channels, no more piloting transports.
I plan to make the most of these two years.
The room comes alive with conversation on the veil as juniors fill the empty seats, waiting for division assignments. “This is so exciting,” I whisper. Kellan chuckles, squeezing my hand once before letting go.
Anders stands at the front of the room with a few other students.
I recognize only one—Trysten Asgir, Anders’ best friend.
Trysten, also annoyingly handsome, is tall, like Anders, and toned with muscle.
His lighter brown hair, similar to coffee with milk, is long on top and shaved down the sides, hanging to the right and framing his whiskey-shade eyes.
Tattoos cover both arms. I’m sure he’s a heartbreaker, too.
Why do all these men have to be so infuriatingly good-looking?
Calia should reserve such looks for men with personalities to match.
Trysten’s father is King Aki’s best friend and second-in-command.
I have no doubt the role falls to his son when Anders assumes the throne after graduation.
It’s unprecedented for such a young royal to step in, especially with Queen Priana still alive and ruling, but she announced last year she plans to step down to let Anders rule in his father’s stead alongside his future Queen.
The poor woman who Bonds with Anders better have enough personality for both of them and be ready to carry all the emotional weight of that relationship.
The only thing I’ve heard Anders is capable of is the occasional brooding and standing there like an intimidating statue of boredom while women throw themselves at him.
“Okay, listen up,” Anders says. A hush falls over the room.
Two students find their seats, as two more make their way to the front—one of them Princess Aolyn.
A smile crosses my face as I watch my friend take her place.
Her bluish-black hair, longer now, hangs loose like a curtain to her waist. She wears a striking black gown, not the standard issue; its dark hue is a stark contrast against her pale skin and ice-blue eyes lined with coal.
She is devastatingly gorgeous, the kind of beauty that commands a room.
She has high cheekbones, an oval face, and a perfect cupid’s bow on her pink lips.
She must feel my attention because she turns, finding me immediately, offering a quick smile before turning back toward Anders.