Part 6: Who are you?

"I like your hand off my wrist now."

Blaise immediately obeys my command, even though his expression still spots the irritated look of a three-year-old whose candy has just been taken away.

"Do you like him?" He grumbles, his eyes braving my gaze again. His forehead has wrinkle lines, so it is obvious he dislikes the thought of me liking the freshman.

His possessiveness is laughable, but I don't laugh, nor do I snort at his words like I am tempted to. Blaise might act like a three-year-old most of the time, but that doesn't mean I have to treat him like one.

"Don't be silly," I tell him, my tone leveled and flat. I leave Blaise standing in the hallway, probably figuring out whether to believe my words or try to uncover some hidden meaning to my earlier actions.

I don't care which decision he makes. It is his prerogative whether to agonize and rage over something that is not there.

I guess he doesn't dwell on the dilemma of my action long, because he catches up to us quickly, falling back beside me like he rightly belongs there.

"I knew you wouldn't care about a nobody like him," he brags. One could hear the excitement in his voice from miles away, as if the idea that I don't care about someone were a big deal.

"So you wouldn't mind me going after him, Princess," Isabelle drawls, the husky hint in her voice making it clear what she means by going after the Freshman.

My inside stirs with irritation. Not annoyance at her going after the boy, but at her directing her words at me. She could have said what she said without adding my name.

Or maybe I am mad about both, but we are going to pretend the second is the one responsible for the little spark of rage curling around my chest.

Isabelle loves to bait me, though she does it subtly so as not to incur my wrath. Most days, I allow her little games, but today, I am not in the mood for it.

I stop walking, the action so abrupt that Cat, who was walking directly behind me, runs into me—Cat's reflexes can be a little slow sometimes.

"Awh!" She cries softly, then quickly apologizes. "I am sorry, Princess." I ignore her apology and take a step forward, causing her to move to the side, creating a path to the one I hunt.

Isabelle's amused expression disappears when she sees the look on my face. She watched me with a wry expression, wondering what I was about to do.

It was tempting to slap her to teach her a lesson, but that would only prove the point she has been subtly trying to make.

That I like the Freshman.

When I get to her, with my arms crossed against my chest, I lean in, moving past her face until my lips are close to her ear.

"Stop."

She flinched at my warning, and when our eyes met after I drew back, she gulped, and I smirked at her.

Message received, I whirled around and continued my way. My friends fell in step behind me, and no one brought up the Freshman again.

We walk into the Auditorium to find twenty students in the room, wearing the look you would expect from new students.

Most of them are legacies, meaning they come from families of the Gifted, and a few are the first in their families.

They all turn when my friends and I walk in. We make quite a sight. Looks, charisma, and a strong, powerful aura.

They all mutter to each other, and people who know us were glad to educate the ignorant.

I make my way to the front, with Sasha following. The rest of my friends hug back. Sasha and I are the only ones in the student body. The rest are already on the stage waiting for my arrival.

I make my way to the only vacant seat in the line of chairs already occupied, while Sasha moves to the back.

The Principal, Mr. Grunkenberg, a short man with a central bald head, gets up to address the students.

Mr. Grunkenberg might be a small man, but he is a powerful Gifted who fought demons on the outskirts and lived to tell the tale.

Not all Gifted get to fight on the front lines. Some work with the Royal Army; others protect citizens from demons who manage to enter the cities, but many are sent to the front lines.

Grunkenberg's heroism in his youth earns him all the respect his height would never otherwise get him.

And even though he is a small man, he speaks with such authority that most have no option but to listen.

As soon as he starts speaking, he quickly commands every student's attention. They gawk at him like he is the Queen herself.

Understood, as he is the most powerful figure in the school.

"Astra is divided into houses: Eagles, Falcons, Herons, Hawks, and Vultures," Mr. Grunkenberg says after welcoming the students.

While Grunkenberg drones on about the school rules and regulations, I will tell you about the houses.

Astra houses are like the cast system, with the Eagle house at the apex of the Pyramid. Eagle House is for the rich, the powerful, and anyone with a name.

And this is closely followed by the Falcon House, the Heron, and the Hawks.

As for the Vultures.

They are at the bottom of the barrel. Home for the delinquents, the rejected, the weak.

It also serves as a house for punishment. Let's say a student from another house does something wrong; they would be demoted to the Vulture Houses.

No one willing stays in Vulture House.

And that is an annual competition held at the school for students in Vulture Houses to compete against one another. The one who wins the competition gets to be in the Eagle house.

While Mr. Grunkenberg is still speaking, the door creaks open and he walks in.

JESSE's POV.

Yet despite thinking those uncharitable thoughts about the ruling family, I couldn't stop looking at her. It felt like she was all I could see, breathe, and feel.

She had this domineering presence that made everyone around her sit up and take notice, and believe me, I wasn't the only one paying attention.

Weird, though, that I was.

Nothing holds my attention this long, least of all women. Not because I hate them, but because I never had the time, and neither was I ready for it.

I had more important things occupying my thoughts and days: Providing and protecting my family.

I kept staring after her even though she was long gone.

“Who are you?”

The bark from the crazy bully pulls me out of my thoughts and my eyes away from her departing figure. I look at the boy, one eyebrow raised.

“Excuse me?”

He closes the distance between us, invading my private space, and I tell you, I did not like that one bit. My fingers dig into my palms as I fight not to shove him away from me.

I hate it when people intrude on my personal space, especially when it's for a sinister motive.

“Why is the Princess interested in you?” He snarls, his breath in my face.

Damn it, it stinks.

Not really. Just smells of weed and cigarettes.

My heart slams hard against my ribs. She is interested in me?

I shouldn't feel happy about this, because I am supposed to hate her for what her parents did to mine, yet the little organ in my chest flutters like a hummingbird at the idea that the icy Princess might like me.

“Play it cool,” I whisper to myself. I stared down at the boy and smirked in satisfaction when I saw him flinch, though he quickly masked how nervous a direct stare from me makes him.

“I don't know what you are talking about. Now, if you excuse me, I have somewhere to be.”

I walked around him and headed off, with his eyes drilling into my back.

“He is right, you know,” Moksh says as he falls in step beside me.

“About what?” I question without looking at him.

“The Princess’s interest in you. She has never come to anyone’s rescue before.”

“And what makes you think she was rescuing me, and not you?” I look at Moksh. “You were there.”

He smiles, a sad smile, as if the idea of someone rescuing him is impossible. “I assure you, it wasn't me. Now, hurry up, or you will be late for the orientation.”

A visit to the administrative block to get my curriculum and my assigned house took longer than expected, and I ended up being late for the orientation.

Moksh helped me find the right building, but abandoned me just as we arrived.

I heaved a deep breath and pushed the door open.