Chapter 2. Eloise
Eloise
I pull my family’s old pickup into a parking spot in front of the Academy and quiet the roaring engine.
The campus looms before me—a series of wood and stone mansions that blend with the rustic landscape.
But despite its appearance, it’s not a five-star ski resort.
It’s a fortress. Protected by wards with lethal Guardians at its perimeter.
A fist bangs on my half-open truck window and I turn with a smile, expecting to see my closest friend—Maggie.
But it’s not Maggie. It’s Ivy who stands between my door and Naomi’s bright red BMW convertible, staring at me like I’m in her way. Ivy’s petite but formidable—one of the stronger students in our graduating class.
“Park this piece of crap somewhere else,” Ivy purrs, not as a question but a command. “You’re like a stain on a white shirt. I shouldn’t have to look at you.”
I feel her insult like a gut punch.
“Don’t waste your breath, Ivy,” Naomi says, closing her driver’s- side door with her hip, a quilted Chanel clutch in one hand and her coffee in the other. “She’ll fail today and you can hire her to clean your summer house, just like her mother cleans mine.”
Naomi doesn’t laugh—she’s not joking. She said it like there’s no other possibility for me, and my frustration from this morning comes rushing back.
“And if I don’t?” I say as I slide down from the truck cab onto the sun-warmed pavement.
Naomi rolls her eyes, stepping onto the green with Ivy. “Your magic is mediocre at best.”
It stings because it’s true.
“Maybe,” I say before I can stop myself. “But it hasn’t stopped me from besting you in hand-to-hand since freshman year.”
Naomi’s lips pinch shut and there is something satisfying about not being quiet for once. That is, until I reach across the worn truck seat and grab the beautiful travel mug my mom bought me only to have the rose hip tea bubble out the top.
“What the—?”
The tea isn’t lukewarm anymore, it’s boiling hot. And as it runs down my hand, I curse, dropping the cup on the pavement and bringing my singed fingers to my mouth.
Naomi laughs. “You really should be more careful with your casting hand, Labor girl.”
Four years I’ve put up with their taunts, afraid if I retaliated that they might take it out on my mom. But now I feel my magic itching to get out, tingling my fingertips and making the hair on the back of my neck stand up. And for once, I don’t stop it. I shake out my burned hand and cast a spell.
It doesn’t take much power to bend the rim of Naomi’s coffee cup. But the splash onto Naomi’s shirt, and the shock on her and Ivy’s faces makes it feel powerful. Although the moment I cast, I also know I’m screwed.
Naomi locks eyes with me from the green, and her raven-black hair slides over her shoulder in a sheet of gloss. It only takes half a second for her hand to flash in the air and for me to be launched backward against my truck with a loud bang.
The air whooshes out of my lungs and I drop to the pavement, struggling to gulp down oxygen.
Naomi stares as I sputter and grip my stomach where I took the brunt of her wind spell.
I stand despite the pain, using my truck for support.
All I want is to transform the metal door handle into a dagger and toss it so close to Naomi’s ear that it grazes her perfect hair.
But if I throw a dagger, Naomi will light me on fire or magic my own blade to stab me.
And there’s no time for a trip to the healers today.
Naomi smirks. “Go ahead, Labor girl. Try one of your little Alchemy spells. See what happens.”
Her threat is clear. She’s ten times stronger and practically untouchable.
I grit my teeth and Naomi’s smile grows. She won. Again.
Ivy laughs. “Aw, I think Eloise is going to cry. How predictable.”
But Naomi’s gaze has already flicked past me, like I’m so little a threat that she can’t be bothered.
Instead, I pick up my to-go mug. The spell Naomi used to boil the tea also melted the cup and it’s totally ruined. My magic flares, the feeling of injustice bubbling up in my chest. Screw you, Naomi, and all your entitled Mage friends. I am passing this exam today.
I toss it into the bed of my truck with a clang and turn toward the sleek black Audi as it cuts its engine in the spot next to Naomi’s convertable.
That’s what made Naomi lose interest in me—Grayson Stone—beautiful, stupidly arrogant, and without a doubt the most talented student in a generation.
Everyone says he’s our biggest hope against the Lawless.
Grayson exits his sports car like he doesn’t have a care in the world, his wavy dark hair emphasizing his relaxed posture, the only one of us who’s not nervous about today.
His blazer is flung casually over his broad shoulder, and he shoves the last piece of a chocolate croissant in his mouth as he snaps his door shut.
And I swear, every student within fifty feet collectively sighs.
Bastian jogs across the green to meet him. “Grayson, mate, good of you to finally show,” he says in his Aussie accent. “What do you reckon, Naomi? Will he get Gifted?”
“Oh, without a doubt,” Naomi says. She looks at Grayson like she wants to take a step closer. Actually, most people look at him that way. If it were possible, I’d suspect his pheromones were magicked.
Bastian chuckles. “After today, everyone’s gonna fall at your feet begging for your autograph because your magic is just so strong.”
Case in point.
Grayson laughs, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “Don’t they already?” he asks with a charming lilt to his voice.
I scowl at him, a guy who is my opposite in every way—annoyingly good at everything with no effort.
As though he could somehow feel my disapproval, his gaze momentarily meets mine as he steps onto the green.
There is something about his look that feels as though he could hear my insult.
The corners of his mouth pull up ever so slightly and his eyes seem to laugh.
Instead of sending back a look that screams middle finger, my stomach drops and my cheeks flush of their own accord.
And now I’m furious at myself for reacting to him the way every other clown on this campus does.