Part 2: Who Is He?

VICTORIA’s POV

The library has always been a place of escape for me. When the noise becomes too loud and I need a moment of peace, the library is where I find that peaceful quiet that soothes my soul.

When I am within its solid walls, surrounded by the smell of old books and silence, I can hear myself think; I can let myself travel through my thoughts to a perfect place.

As a princess, I believe most people think my life is perfect. I hear their murmurs of envy and sighs of jealousy wherever I go, but what they do not see is the shackles of responsibilities around my wrists and ankles, and the burden to be perfect that weighs heavily on my shoulders.

Our world is a matriarchy, and as the only daughter of the ruling Queen, I am next in line to take the throne.

It is the start of a new academic year at Astra, and the new students will arrive today. I arrived a day early to skip the noise and hassle of opening day.

Not that I escaped the responsibility. As the student president, it is my duty to ensure that the new students get to where they are supposed to be.

Good thing I don't have to carry out this duty. It was one duty that I happily delegated to my subordinates.

I am not a people person and hate noisy chatter. I have very selective friends, mostly handpicked by my parents; still, it is a very close circle.

Most regard me as cold and rigid, and that is fine.

Keeping people at bay means you don't have to deal with anyone's bullshit, and no one has to deal with your bullshit.

I would say that I am trying to protect myself from getting hurt, but again, only people who feel get hurt.

Emotions are for the weak. I am a logical being and deal with issues rationally.

Years of tutelage under the Queen had taught me one thing: showing emotion creates room for people to take advantage of you or manipulate you.

As the next ruler, I must rise above such weakness.

Sitting by the window, with my head bent, reading the book I took from one of the shelves in the library— a book about the first Gifted—I did my best to ignore the chaos happening down at the courtyard.

Then, for a reason I don't know, I feel this urge to look. You know when you get a prickly feeling in your subconscious to do something, but you do it.

Like stepping to the side while on the boardwalk just in time for a car to zoom past you, passing through the exact spot you stood.

Anyways, I felt one of those.

If there is one thing I never ignore, it is my instinct. And I have a pretty strong one.

I look, and there is a sea of returning students roaming about the courtyard, chatting with friends or gawking at the school building with a look of terror on their faces, like they expect the building to leap at them and shout boo.

None of the students held my attention for longer than a second except for one.

The boy with the facial tattoo.

His look is the one thing that first arrested my attention and held me spellbound.

As a Gifted, we have a super vision, ten times better than an average human. And the distance between the building and where the boy stood in the courtyard is about 100 yards, and yet I could see him as he stood before me.

He isn't quite tall for a boy. I would say average height, five ft six, but his face.

It is a masterpiece in the hands of an excellent sculptor. Chiseled features that would evoke envy from most women and eyes—

Eyes that leave your heart thundering in your chest.

I blinked, startled by the powerful emotions evoked inside me at one look into his eyes.

Who is he?

I have never had to look away from anyone in my life. People avert their eyes when they meet mine, whether from discomfort, fear, or interest.

But not me.

So, it comes as a shock that this stranger, this boy, could evoke such a reaction from me.

Obviously, none of this could be seen on my face. Years of practice hiding my feelings ensure that silly things like this don't get noticed by anyone who could use it against me.

I chanced another look in his direction, hoping that he had moved on, which would allow me to study him, but no, he was still looking.

At first, I thought he was captivated by my physical appearance; he wouldn't be the first. But no, rather something weird was happening.

He couldn't see me.

All Gifted have X-ray vision and can see very far. Have never heard of one with near vision, and Astra never accepts anyone without powers. I mean that is the essence of the school.

So if he can't see me, does it mean he is a mundane?

Mundanes are what we call humans without the power to command the elements.

"What are you looking at?"

I don't react to Sasha's voice. Alexandra Hawthorne is a cold and elegant beauty, with smooth chocolate skin and a height that affords her the luxury of towering over more than a few men.

And a very intimidating personality.

If I were the best friend type, Sasha would be it. She is the only one I would consider close to me, and despite the closeness we share, there are many things my dark-skinned friend doesn't know about me.

But I know everything about her, including who she has a crush on, and would absolutely die if she ever admitted to having feelings for this person.

She doesn't know that I know.

It is my duty to know things about the people I surround myself with, and everyone else.

I hate it when I don't know things about people.

"No one."

I answer in a tone that should absolutely discourage further pursuit of the subject. Still, my very cold, disinterested tone flies over my friend as she blatantly ignores my response and joins me by the window to look for herself.

And that is one of the reasons Sasha and I are close. She is the only one who can see through me, at least on a few occasions.

This being one of them.

"You were staring out of this window with so much attention, as if Bigfoot had suddenly made an appearance."

I cock a brow at her analogy, and even though she had her attention out of the window, she breaks away from it to flash me an amused grin as if she knew the look on my face was one I would be wearing at her ridiculous words.

"I believe it would take something extraordinary, such as Bigfoot making an appearance, to hold your attention."

I roll my eyes at her teasing, just as another of our friends joins in the teasing.

"Or the appearance of the demons."

Sasha hadn't arrived alone. She came with the rest of our friends: Catherine, Isabelle, Blaize, and Denzel.

One person is missing from the group.

Rishi.

Sasha once again looks away from the window to the redhead who has spoken. "Come on, Cat. If a demon appeared in the country, Vic would be flying out of this window to kill it."

"You know what a fearless warrior our leader is, and how much she hates demons."

"A demon wouldn't hold her attention that long."

Sasha winks at Cat, indicating that it has to be something interesting, like someone, to hold my attention that long.

"Sash, you speak as if anyone likes the demons."

Sasha shrugs at Denzel's words. "You never know," she responds, returning her attention to the window. There are demon lovers among us.

"That is disgusting," Blaise spits with all the hateful emotions he could muster in his voice as his muscular arms go around me.

Blaise is one of those people who doesn't tolerate differences in people, not that the demons are just different, like how skin colors are different, or how sexual preferences are different. Still, his world is black or white, yes or no.

He is a snob with the narrowest mind.

And he is my boyfriend.

Which means I have to suffer the ordeal of him invading my private space.

Not in silence, though.

My body stiffens in his embrace, so subtle that he doesn't notice, like it is rejecting his touch.