IV
EDEN
The door to my dorm room opens with a slight creak.
Despite the aged look of the building, the rooms are well kept. I pause inside the threshold, taking in my new home for the year. It’s a small but elegant room—polished wooden floors, antique brass fixture and tall windows draped in cream-colored curtains.
It’s not the lavish living that I’m accustomed to at Lockhart Manor, but it’s comfortable enough that I don’t feel too out of place. There’s a single door on one side of the room that leads to the bathroom I presume, while the other is a wall of closets.
A pair of twin beds sit opposite each other, each with a quilted duvet at the foot. There’s a wooden writing desk between the two beds, and each bed has a nightstand. The air smells faintly of lavender and old books.
My vintage Louis Vuitton luggage is piled next to my bed. Six trunks—a lot to unpack. But that’s not what catches my attention.
A girl is sprawled on the other bed, flipping through a magazine. She’s got earphones in, so she hasn’t noticed I’m here yet. After a while, she looks up. My heart skips a beat.
She’s beautiful .
Not in the soft, careful way that most girls are. No, she’s beautiful in the way that demands attention. Long, dark hair falls over her shoulders, silky and bone straight. Haphazard bangs frame her distinct features. Her eyes are dark, reedy pools—lined with an artful flick of eyeliner that makes her look intense, unreadable.
There’s an effortless coolness about her. Like she belongs here and she always has. I’m drawn to her almost immediately, and I feel guilty about it—I stoppered those sinful feelings years ago. But she’s possibly the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on.
Lord, please forgive me.
“You must be Lady Eden Lockhart,” she says. She closes the magazine and sits up, giving me a warm smile. “I’m Vivienne. Vivienne Carlisle.”
She curtsies. It takes me a moment to snap out of my awe.
“Please, call me Eden,” I manage. “And you don’t have to do any of that. We’re all students.”
Yes, knowing my station is important. But, I don’t want it to stop me from being nice to my roommate. And maybe— just maybe— I’d like to have this gorgeous girl think of me as a friend.
Vivienne smiles. “I just wanted to make sure. Some people really take that sort of thing seriously here.”
Her voice is light, but firm. There’s a richness to it too, like warm coffee. The kind of voice that would soothe me to sleep.
“I don’t, that much,” I offer, moving to my bed. “I’m guessing this is my side?”
She nods. “Yes, it is. I usually sleep in that spot, but I’m giving it to you.”
I tilt my head in confusion. The sheets are soft, much like the ones I have at home.
“Why?” I ask.
“It’s my first time ever having a royal roommate.”
I shake my head. “No, it’s not like that. My father is very far from the throne. You should take this side if you really want it.”
Vivienne’s lips twist into a cute smile. “Keep it. The view is amazing. It’s the best part of the room. This is my second year here, and it’s your first. Enjoy it.”
I glance toward the window and immediately understand what she means.
“Wow,” I whisper, stepping closer and resting my hands on the window sill.
The window overlooks one of the courtyards—a huge expanse of aged cobblestone paths, manicured bushes, flowering shrubs and trees wrapped in ivy and moss. In the distance there’s a glistening smidgen of the lake, and even farther lie the hills that look like splotches of green and blue, their peaks disappearing into the grey sky.
Vivienne joins me by the window, leaning casually against the frame.
She smells like a playful hint of raspberry.
My fingertips tingle. I rebuke the thought.
“You’ll love it in the mornings. The light comes in just right.”
She uses her hand to push her hair back. There are a few rings on her fingers—but the one on her thumb stands out to me the most. A marquise cut sapphire set in gold.
I want to ask about it, but I don’t. It’s not polite to pry.
For a moment, Vivienne and I just stand there in silence, watching the students milling about below. Some are with their suitcases on their way to the dorms, others obviously reuniting after a summer apart.
Then, I see them—Silas and his group of friends.
They stroll across the courtyard with the kind of arrogance only a future duke and his friends would have. Silas is a step ahead of them at all times. Is that protocol, or just a coincidence?
I can’t take my eyes off him. He’s got his hands in his pockets, his lips set in a hard line, his eyes sharp. From this vantage point, I can clearly see the crowd of people part to make way for them.
Even though I did my research, I’m still impressed. What Silas has goes beyond just influence—it is power . My heart flutters in my chest.
I picture him leaning down to kiss me by the lakeside. Fire swirls in my abdomen almost painfully, my lips buzzing with heat. I can’t stop the smile that creeps across my face.
“Ugh.” Vivienne makes a sharp sound in the back of her throat.
I blink rapidly. “What is it?”
Was my lust that evident?
I have so much to repent for at Mass tomorrow.
Vivienne crosses her arms, her eyes narrowing as she watches Silas. “Let me guess. He’s charmed you.”
Oh Lord, it was evident.
“No, but he seems nice.”
It’s a lie, but my lips start moving before my brain catches up. Another sin. That’s all I seem to be doing these days. I mean, it wasn’t entirely a lie. He does seem nice .
She snorts dismissively. “Yeah, that’s what he wants you to think.”
I watch Silas till he disappears in the direction of the boys’ dormitory—taking the time to compose myself. The heat disappears and I’m left with Vivienne and whatever conversation she’s trying to have with me about him.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
She sighs, pushing off the window frame and pacing a few steps.
Her silky hair moves like it has a mind of its own before she turns to me. “Silas Peregrine-Ashford is the biggest rake at this school. He is renowned for making girls feel like they’re special—like they’re the only girl in the world. And then when he gets bored?” She snaps her fingers. “Gone. Just like that.”
A tight knot forms in my stomach, sinking with each passing second. It did feel a little too good to be true. But, it felt so real. And I want it to be real. I need it to be.
“How do you know that?”
Vivienne’s expression softens. “My best friend’s twin brother is part of Silas’ circle.” Disgust drips from every syllable. “I’ve heard all the stories.” She steps forward, placing a hand on either of my shoulders. “There’s so much more that I can’t even tell you, Eden. But believe me, he’s not who you think he is.”
Her words are like a cold splash of water. I think of the Silas who took me on a tour of his favorite places. The Silas who was nothing short of a gentleman, a Holy one too. The Silas who picked me out of the group of other new students like a rose from a thorny garden to water me with his sweet words.
My mind is spinning .
Surely Vivienne has it all wrong…right? I spent months planning how to seduce him. Love wasn’t the first, second or even third thing that I considered, but I figured I could just break off the engagement at the right time—especially if it meant gaining my mother’s approval and keeping my inheritance.
But now that I’ve met him…I entertained the idea that our engagement wouldn’t have to be a farce. I could walk down the aisle. Eleanor could be my Maid of Honour.
“Are you okay?” Vivienne asks gently.
My stomach roils, but I nod quickly, pasting a smile on my face. “Yes, I’m fine.” I press the back of my palm to my head. “I might just be tired from all the travelling. It was quite the trek getting here from London.”
Turning my back on the window, I perch myself on the edge of my bed. Vivienne studies me, then glances at the clock hanging above the entrance to our room.
“It’s almost time for supper,” she says. “Since you’re so tired, I’ll bring you back a plate.”
I nod, hoping my smile looks genuine. “Thank you, Vivienne. You’re very kind.”
She gives me a lopsided grin.
Apart from the bomb she just dropped on me—and the fact that she’s so pretty—Vivienne seems like a nice person. At first, I was a bit concerned that I’d have to share a room with a stranger. Now, that’s the least of my worries.
“Wait, before I forget,” she says. “Let’s exchange numbers, so I can add you to the group chats.”
We do and a few seconds later I get the notification that I’ve been added to two group chats—one for the girls’ dormitory and another described as the school’s bulletin board.
“Thank you,” I mumble .
The world feels like it’s shifting, my body melting away.
“Text me if you need anything,” she says before slipping out.
The second the door clicks shut, my facade crumbles.
Rage hits me like a tidal wave. It burns through my veins, like electricity frying a circuit. The anger is wild, unrelenting. The happiness I felt with him is gone.
Shattered. Crushed. Irreparably destroyed.
My hands start to tremble, my vision blurring.
How could I be so stupid?
Why would somebody like Silas fall so quickly for me anyway?
My father might be a viscount, but he’s the next Duke of Surrey.
How could I be so stupid?
I grab my phone, the screen glowing with a notification from Vivienne welcoming me to the dorm chat. Her cheerful message feels like it belongs in another world—one where girls like her fit in perfectly and don’t make stupid mistakes like I do.
I ignore it, swiping through my contacts. My fingers hover over Silas’ name, my chest tightening with each breath I take. I tap it. A whirlwind brews in my mind, my fingers flying across the screen, typing with the speed of my ever-quickening heartbeat.
Eden:
I won’t be sitting with you at Mass tomorrow. I’m sure one of your many admirers will be happy to keep you company.
My thumb hesitates over the send button. For a fraction of a second, I wonder if this is the right move. But then, I remember the betrayal and shame that washed over me as Vivienne spoke of him.
I don’t want somebody who makes me feel like that. The small “sent” notification appears beneath the text. Frigid satisfaction stings me, like a freshly cleaned wound. My phone vibrates a few moments later.
Silas:
I don’t understand. What are you talking about, Eden?
I hate his response. Acting confused, as if he doesn’t understand what he’s done, what he’s made me feel. The tears fall, and I don’t even try to stop them.
My phone starts ringing as I sit on my bed sobbing.
Silas’ name flashes on the caller ID. I silence it and throw the phone. It clatters somewhere on the other side of the room. A low, strangled noise—something between a sob and a growl—leaves me. All of my thoughts start to coalesce.
The shame, the regret, the anger; I can’t tell them apart but I know that they’re all there, like demons cackling at me .
Stupid.
Embarrassing.
An image of my mother swims in my vision.
Socially stunted.
A scream is clawing its way up my throat. I bolt out of bed, running to the bathroom as the voices come to a crescendo, echoing like an empty room.
In the bathroom, my reflection is waiting for me. Mascara running down my flushed cheeks. Trembling, swollen lips. Eyes so pink I look malnourished.
The girl looking back at me isn’t who I want to be. But she’s the only constant in my life—a messy, desperate, unworthy wreck.
“You stupid, stupid girl,” I whisper, pressing my palms against my temples. “You’re so stupid.”
I can barely hear my own voice. All of a sudden there’s anger again. This time, it’s loud—simmering beneath my skin. I need it to stop before it’s too late. Grabbing fistfuls of my hair, I pull it out of the hair tie, so hard until my scalp stings. There’s some relief, but not enough. The pain only grounds me for a second.
I start pacing the bathroom. The marble tile is cold against my bare feet. My breath comes in shallow gasps. When I press my hands to my chest I can’t feel my heartbeat.
Why did I believe him?
Why did I let him make me feel special?
Why did I fall so hard and so fast when that wasn’t the plan?
Memories of him start to assault me against my will. His smile. The way his voice softened when he said my name. The way our fingers brushed each other. It all plays back in my head like a cruel joke. I slam my palms against my forehead.
Once .
Twice.
Three times.
The pressure in my head releases, but something else inside me cracks wide open. Anger drains out of me, replaced by something colder—heavier. My chest feels hollow, my limbs weighed down by exhaustion. I slump to the floor, collapsing on my back.
The chill seeps through my clothes, grounding me in its own way. My arms are curled in awkward positions as I stare up at the ceiling. I want to scream, but there’s no one to hear me. I want to cry, but it’s like I’m made of stone.
Why do I always get like this?
The thought slices through me, spreading like poison. I lay there for what feels like hours—numb, empty and replaying all my failures. All the mistakes that led me up to this moment. Eventually I drag myself out of the bathroom and lie down on the neatly made duvet. Closing my eyes, I focus on my breathing, willing my mind to go blank.
I don’t know how much time passes before the door opens. Vivienne walks in, a plate balanced carefully in her hands. The scent of roast chicken, warm bread and steamed vegetables fills the room.
“I brought you some chicken, potatoes, vegetables, and bread,” she announces brightly. “The food here isn’t terrible, actually. I know it might not be as good as what you’re used to, but it’s something.” She shrugs.
I push myself up, forcing my face into a smile so wide my jaw might snap.
“I’m sure I’ll enjoy it,” I say, my voice chipper and strange to my own ears.
Vivienne looks at me skeptically, setting the plate on my nightstand. “You were crying.” It’s a statement not a question.
“No, why would you?—”
She interrupts me. “There’s dried mascara all over your face.”
I rub my hands against my cheek and sure enough, my fingers come away stained.
“I’m just a little homesick,” I say, forcing a laugh. “The nap did wonders, though.”
She watches me for a beat longer. I lied again, but I would sooner die than tell her that I was crying over Silas.
Lord forgive me.
“I was homesick too, the first week I was here in lower sixth,” she says, concern written all over her features. “But, my best friend Marita helped me through it. Once you make friends, I’m certain you’ll be fine until the winter break.”
If only she knew.
The thought of friends reminds me that I can’t even text Eleanor about what happened with Silas, like I had planned. I should still let her know I made it here safely, though.
“Maybe you’re right,” I get up, covertly scanning the room for my phone.
I spy it laying by the closet. Feigning interest in examining the size of the closet, I pick it up discreetly. When the screen lights up…
Six missed calls from Silas.
Six text messages from Silas.
Six voice messages from Silas.
I ignore them.
I’m not falling for his trap .
“I think making friends will be easy for you.” Vivienne flops back onto her bed. “As a matter of fact, tomorrow is Sunday. AKA the day everyone dresses up for Mass.” She claps her hands together. “I’m sure you’ll make an impression.”
I force a laugh. “Can’t wait.”
Vivienne starts talking about the other girls in the dorm and what they’re likely to wear tomorrow. Her words blur into background noise—I know the wardrobe my mother curated for me would put all of these girls to shame. Brands they don’t know the names of, bags they’ve only heard of but never seen, jewelry worth more than their trust funds, designer shoes with my initials embossed on the soles.
Even though I nod and smile at the right moments, my mind is elsewhere. I force a laugh at something Vivienne says. There’s a crack beneath the surface of my facade, widening with every second. I want to crawl into a hole and die.
And at that moment, my phone vibrates again.