The second prince

Theo’s POV

The questions I've been getting since we were ordered outside were enough to irritate me.

“What's going on?”

“Why are we being assembled?”

“Theo, what's the latest update?”

I'm tired of telling them “we will find out soon.” Or “I don't know why?”

Hillsborough did not assemble unless something had gone wrong or someone important was coming. And judging by the way the principal has asked all of us to dress in our full uniform, they all should know the answer by now.

“What’s this about?” my sister muttered beside me as I adjusted my blazer.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “When did I become the principal of Hillsborough?” I asked with the hint of sarcasm.

“After Mrs Whitcombe, you are the next as the school's prefect,” she paused for a while. “And why is it so hard for you to give me a straight answer?”

“Maybe because I'm not,” I said with a bored tone.

This time, she rolled her eyes. “I wonder how I got the worst brother in the world,” she said before joining the slow movement toward the courtyard.

“Tu es bienvenue, Léonie,” I retorted loudly before she could leave.

“Our special guest is here,” Julian said lightly beside me. “Word says Mrs Whitcombe is practically vibrating.”

I scoffed. “She vibrates over donors.”

“And royals,” Louis added. “She did the same for you.”

I shot him a look. “And how's that important now?”

Instead of giving me a reply, they both grinned. That infuriating, knowing grin they reserved for moments when they thought they understood me better than I understood myself.

We lined up in neat, irritating rows. The murmuring around us rose and fell like a controlled soundtrack. Whoever this was, they had managed to disrupt Hillsborough’s sacred routine. That alone suggested significance.

Julian leaned closer. “Relax man. You look tense.”

“I’m bored,” I responded faster than I ought to.

“No, you’re kind of jealous,” Louis said cheerfully.

I turned on him. “Of whom?”

“Exactly,” he replied. “Of this unknown person.”

I exhaled sharply through my nose. “There is nothing to be jealous of. Whoever this is, they’ll be another name, another rumour. Hillsborough swallows people faster than you can imagine. Moreover, titles from outside don’t survive here.”

Julian raised his eyebrows. “Spoken like a man deeply invested.”

“For real, man,” Louis added, grinning.

“I’m invested because I'm the prefect and I'm supposed to give a speech.” I explained flatly. “Know the difference.”

They laughed out loud, but I didn’t join them. The whole school was looking at us now.

“Get your act together, boys.”

As I dismissed the whole thing, something restless stirred beneath my certainty. I didn’t like surprises, not this kind. I liked knowing the order of things like it had always been. I like knowing who mattered, who didn't, who followed and who didn't.

Hillsborough had been simple in that regard. We understood it and I owned my place in it. And yet here we were, waiting. Waiting for someone we don't know.

Mrs Whitcombe appeared at the front, smoothing her pleated skirt with a bright smile etched on her face. Her act confirmed my curiosity. No one smooths their clothes unless they are about to greet power.

“Attention,” she called and immediately, the courtyard quieted.

I folded my arms, my jaw tightened immediately. I'm not the frowning type but the suspense was getting on my nerves.

“This better be worth it,” I muttered.

Julian nudged me. “Relax. I'm having fun already.”

“The suspense is thrilling,” Louis added.

“You look threatened,” the ever quiet Noah said beside me.

“I don’t get threatened.”

“You do,” Louis said. “You just refuse to admit it.”

“Everyone has their flaws, Theo. This just happened to be yours,” Julian added.

Before I could respond, the sound of an engine cut through the air. The sound was low, controlled and unmistakably expensive.

Every head turned towards the gate. The limousine rolled in with deliberate ease, black and gleaming, absurdly out of place and yet commanding instant silence. This was not the sort of arrival Hillsborough was built for.

I straightened without meaning to and a question popped into my mind. Was this how they felt when I arrived?

“Bloody hell,” Julian whispered. “That’s customised.”

“Obviously,” Louis said. “Who else would warrant this?”

My pulse quickened, annoyance flickering into something deeper. Why bring that here? Why parade it in front of us like a reminder that some people entered the world already elevated?

Then my subconscious replied. “You are not in the position to judge them. Your family came with a customized limousine too.”

My judgement stopped just the same time the car stopped. The driver stepped out first. Then another door opened.

The King came down with an unexplainable aura.

There was no way I could mistake him for anyone. I've seen him during elite gatherings and I've watched him closely. The Queen followed, composed, distant, her expression unreadable as usual.

A ripple went through the students as our guests revealed themselves.

So the very important guests were royals. English royals with a significant difference.

I should have felt vindicated or amused, maybe detached. Instead, I felt alert by their presence.

Then the final door opened. Another familiar face stepped out. The crown prince. He stepped out slowly, aware of every eye on him but determined not to let it show.

I didn’t know his name yet, but I knew the way he held himself—too controlled for someone who has all eyes on him. His shoulders squared not from arrogance but from habit.

Then another boy stepped out. He had this unimpressed look on his face. It is like I've seen him but I couldn't place his face.

Julian sucked in a breath. “That’s him.”

“Him?” I muttered. “Who is he?”

“The second prince.”

The second prince? No wonder I didn't recognize him. The English have the habit of showcasing only the crown prince.

“His name is Rowan,” Noah said beside me. “He is a different topic entirely.”

I didn’t hear the rest because this boy's gaze lifted and found mine.

The moment our eyes met was brief but it felt like it stretched. There was no smile on his face. No challenge or impression. Just a steady, unreadable look that struck like a question I hadn’t realised I was waiting to be asked.

However, I didn’t look away. Neither did he.

Something shifted in my chest. An unsettling feeling. Not attraction, maybe recognition. It was as if we were standing on opposite sides of something invisible, measuring the distance between us.

I felt his aura before I understood it. It wasn't loud but it was commanding. The kind of presence that didn’t demand attention but held it once given.

“Well,” Louis murmured beside me, “that explains your mood.”

“Shut up,” I said, without wasting time.

Rowan’s attention moved away from me and I felt something else. Like disappointment. I realised, with a sudden clarity that annoyed me deeply, that I wanted him to look back. To look back at me.

His gaze moved around the courtyard with the same unimpressed look. Mrs Whitcombe had rushed to the King and Queen with her rehearsed reverence and her forcefully bright smile.

Rowan said nothing but his presence alone had made me forget my speech. Of course he didn’t.have to do much to affect me.

“Still confident?” Julian asked quietly.

I turned to him. “Completely,” I replied.

But my eyes had already found Rowan again. And this time, he was already looking at me again. When our eyes met, there was something new there.