Chapter 3: _ The Girl at the Bottom

For one damned second, I forgot where I was. My right hand twitched. I wanted to tell her exactly where she could shove that boot.

Then thewiser voice inside my head whispered.

Look around, Elira.

I did.

Dozens of eyes had turned toward us. Noble shifters, and even wardens were leaning against the perimeter pillars with lazy grins.

They were waiting to see the gutter girl get put in her place.

My rage slowly cooled as my code repeated in my head:

Smile first. Pretend none of it reaches the place where it hurts.

I only needed to survive until I found a way to escape this hellhole.

I swallowed and smiled. "Right away, my Lady."

I dropped to one knee, pulled the rag I used to wipe grease from my boots out of my pocket and slapped it against hers.

I hope your dragon gets stomach rot.

I scrubbed harder.

I hope you choke on a caviar pit and die in a silk-lined bed surrounded by people who only love your money.

"Thoroughly," she drawled.

I looked up through my lashes. "Oh, absolutely. Wouldn’t want a single speck of dirt ruining such a magnificent, utterly essential piece of leather."

She grasped the sarcasm in my words but couldn’t act on it without seeming pathetic to the onlookers. "Learn your place, trash."

She yanked her foot away and swept past me. The moment she was gone, the crowd lost interest. They’d paused expecting a bloodbath and had gotten nothing.

I shoved the filthy rag back into my pocket and sighed heavily.

I had been at the Concorded Realm for less than an hour and I already knew one thing.

I was going to fucking hate this place.

I picked up my bag and forced myself to keep walking. I had no idea where I was going. I only knew I needed to get away from these hell creatures.

And then... I saw him.

He was leaning against the stone base of an archway near the side exit, completely isolated from the bustling crowds.

He looked like he’d just been dragged backward through a horse stable. Mud stained his trousers, his white shirt was rumpled and open at the throat, and there was dried blood on one cuff. His long white hair was a complete disaster.

Yet, somehow, his face was absolutely striking.

Sharp cheekbones. Silver-violet eyes. A set of fine lips pressed together in irritation.

He looked like a god who’d been left out in the rain.

I didn’t dwell on his beauty. My brain didn’t have room for that. I never much cared for men after... him.

Right now, all I saw was another poor, unfortunate nobody who got dragged here against his will.

I strolled over, casually leaning against the stone pillar a few feet away from him, mimicking his slouch. I crossed my arms, staring out at the sea of aristocrats.

"You got dragged here too?" I asked quietly, not looking at him.

The boy didn’t move for a long moment. Then, slowly, his head turned. His eyes were a luminous shade of silver-violet, and hell, they looked unimpressed.

"Something like that," he rasped like he hadn’t used his voice in hours.

"You look like you hate it," I observed, nodding toward a group of Lion nobles who were currently arguing over the size of their luggage carriage.

"I have my reasons."

"Good," I snorted, turning my head to grin at him. "I was beginning to think everyone in this godforsaken yard was completely insane."

The corner of his mouth twitched. He turned his gaze back to the crowd. "You’ve been here less than an hour."

"I’ve seen enough," I countered, waving a hand at the glittering madness around us. "A bunch of overgrown reptiles and glorified stray dogs strutting around in velvet, pretending they’re saving the world when they’re really just flexing their daddy’s coin purses."

He tilted his head and I could have sworn a flash of amusement entered those violet eyes. "That’s an impressive amount of hatred for sixty minutes of observation."

"I’m very efficient. Take that girl over there in the silver gown... the one who looks like she eats lemon peels for breakfast. She had her servant wipe her shoe because a drop of water touched it. If an apocalypse actually happened, she’d die of a heart attack the second a demon dirtied her hem."

"She’s a Lady of the Lion Pride," the boy said quietly, though there was zero respect in his tone. "Her family controls half the silver mines in the realm."

"She’s a brat with expensive shoes," I corrected. I leaned a little closer, lowering my voice. "And don’t get me started on the Wardens. Walking around in all that black iron plate like they’re hot stuff. I bet you five silver pieces half of them can’t even scratch their own backs without falling over."

This time, a genuine, quiet huff of laughter escaped his lips. He turned to look at me fully, leaning his shoulder against the stone.

"You have a very sharp tongue for someone carrying a bag that looks like it was woven out of sackcloth."

"Hey," I poked a finger at his chest—or rather, stopped an inch short when I remembered the bloodstain on his sleeve. "Look at yourself, mate. You look like you just lost a wrestling match with a mud-troll. We’re in the same boat. Two poor souls caught in the grand machine."

He stared at me for three long seconds. His silver-violet eyes seemed to read right through me, taking in my dirty boots, my missing dragon mark, and the defiant posture I was using to cover up the fact that I was terrified.

"Right. The same boat."

Before I could ask him what he meant by that look, a deafening horn blasted through the plaza.

BOOM.

The sound vibrated through the stone floor, rattling the teeth in my skull. The chatter of hundreds of students instantly died.

"ATTENTION INITIATES!" A tall man clad in deep red armor stood at the edge of the stage.

"The discipline warden. A candidate you’ll come to find worthy of your hatred," the boy said like he thought my earlier hatred was misplaced.

"Clear the central aisle immediately!" the Warden barked. "Show proper reverence for the High Rector and the Council of Academies!"

The crowd parted instantly, nobles and commoners alike scrambling back toward the perimeter pillars to create a wide, open lane leading straight to the dais.

I didn’t move an inch. I stayed right where I was, leaning against the archway beside the dirty, handsome boy, and crossing my arms.

"Look at them," I muttered under my breath, rolling my eyes as the crowd cowered. "Scrambling like rats because some old bureaucrat is about to give a speech."

The boy beside me didn’t answer, though I felt his eyes on the side of my face.

At the top of the dais, five figures stepped out from the archway of light.

The atmosphere in the plaza grew with an overwhelming pressure that made my chest feel tight. In the center stood a woman who could only be the High Rector.

She was Fae, but unlike the ethereal youths floating around the plaza, she radiated an ancient aura.

"Greetings, initiates. Welcome to the Concorded Realm of Great Academies. Here, the boundaries of your realms cease to exist. Here, you are no longer merely Dragons, Wolves, Lions, Tigers, or Fae. You are the vanguard." The High Rector began.

I grunted under my breath. "Vanguard. Right. Vanguard of the rich."

The boy beside me didn’t say a word, though I heard his soft sigh.

"The Concourse is neutral ground," the High Rector announced. "No blood may be spilled here without sanction. Each Academy maintains its own territory. Cross into another Ward without authorization, and you will answer to its Warden."

Her gaze swept across the crowd. "Beyond these walls, your blood may determine your station. Within them, your conduct determines your consequences."

I was about to scoff when something caught my eye. A pair of silver eyes watched me from behind one of the pillars.

My breath stopped.

No

I knew those eyes.