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With a smile plastered on my face, I swallow.

“Good girl,” Pace murmurs as I pass him, ignoring the thorns of the roses poking through the delicate cashmere and into my flesh.

That’s exactly what I am.

Good.

I’m good all the way on the walk to my first class. I’m good when I smile at the people passing. I’m good when I round the student union and weave my way through the large air compressors. I’m good right up until I find the bank of dumpsters, carelessly shoving the entire bundle of roses and cards inside.

Other than the stares,the walk to class is the most normal I’ve felt in days. This is my second year at Forsyth, and I know the campus like the back of my hand. Ever since I discovered I wasn’t going to be Duchess, I changed my major from pre-med to visual arts, something that lessened the overall sting of losing the position. Pre-med in Forsyth churns out students like Sy and Lex. Driven, calculating, ambitious men. The classes are hard, but the competition is harder. I was all too happy to give that up.

I climb the stairs to the fine arts building to get to my intro to ceramics class. At the staircase that leads to the music wing, I spot a figure leaning at the bottom. Sun streams in from the windows, glinting off his piercings. I’d know those dark eyes anywhere–one of Story’s Lords, Dimitri Rathbone. He must sense me watching because he turns, catching my gaze. One corner of his lip twitches downward, and judging by the disgust in his eyes, there’s no doubt in my mind he knows exactly who I am: the enemy.

But it’s more than that. It strikes me then. I’m one ofthem,the elite. The powerful. The envied.

The realization overwhelms me, and I spin on my heel, running down the hall. I duck behind a column and take a drink from the water fountain, trying to gather my wits.

Everything is different now.

“Thought you could hide from me?”

The voice hits like a punch. Terrifying. Domineering.Home.

I turn slowly, cautiously, dragging a wrist over my lips to catch a drop of water before I face her. She’s standing in the hallway like some strange mirage, hand on her lips, faux leopard-print leggings hugging her curves. From the leather jacket to the stiletto boots that add five inches of height to her frame, she’s almost too intimidating to take in all at once.

“Mama?” I squeak, quiet but strained. I glance around to see if anyone is watching. “What are you doing here?”

There’s a wildness in her eyes, rimmed with red, that I’ve never seen before. “What am I doing here? I’m coming to find out what the hell my daughter is thinking.” Her bark of laughter crackles with hysteria. “Defecting to East Side to become a breeder? You’ve lost your goddamn mind.”

Probably, but if anyone catches us together it could spark an inter-frat war with dire results. A girl steps out of the nearest door, the bathroom, and I grab my mother’s hand, yanking her inside with me before locking the door.

She snatches my wrist in a hard grip, hissing, “Verity Marie Sinclaire, you’d better start talking or I’ll—”

With a jolt, I break from her hold. “You’ll what, mom? Drag me back to the gym? Punish me? Lecture me about what good girls do to get ahead in life?” I laugh, the sound shrill and panicked. “Guess what? Those lectures worked. I got it—the golden ticket. I’m a house girl just like you always wanted.”

Her eyes narrow, sweeping over my outfit. “You’re aPrincess.” She spits the word like a curse, like the very sound of it tastes bitter on her tongue. “No daughter of mine is going to be East End’s glorified cum bunker!”

The repulsion in her voice feels like a slap in the face, but it's the disgust in her glare that makes tears sting at the corners of my eyes.

“I did exactly what you raised me to do: be a Royal.” I shouldn’t be so hurt, but I am. I knew she’d be upset—angry even—but my mom has never looked at me with such contempt before. “I know I failed to become Duchess, but that was out of my hands. Where else was I going to go, Mama? The Lords won’t need another Lady until it's too late for me. The Counts are gone. And the Barons—”

“Don’t even say it,” Mama snaps, expression stricken. “I forbid it.”

Shrugging, my hands fall heavily against my thighs. “I got an invitation and accepted it.”

“Without discussing it with me.” That’s when I see it. All the hurt I’m feeling is reflected back at me in her welling eyes. “You just disappeared–turned your back on us. Do you have any idea the panic I felt when I couldn’t find you?”

My chest aches. “I’m sorry for that. I just didn’t think—”

“That I’d ever let you go through with it?” Her bracelets jangle as she crosses her arms.

I twine my hands around the strap of my bag. “Yeah, but also… I didn’t think I’d be chosen.”

She sighs, rubbing her forehead. “Well, it’s not too late to figure out a way to get you out of this. I have contacts, and even if you signed something–”

“I did. I signed the covenant.”In blood. Raising my chin, I add, “And the Dukes have already made negotiations. They’ve signed their own deal with the Princes. Breaking it would mean breaking the peace, which is already fragile enough. It’s done.”

Her face pales as she realizes this trade goes levels over her head. “The Dukes gave you up?” she asks, face twisting into furious outrage. “MyDukes.Mycubs. First they reject you for that North Side tramp, and then they–”