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“Hi, Sophie.”

Theodora Dorokhova bounds down the stairs: she’s dressed plainly in blue jeans and a cream sweater in soft wool, her pale blonde hair in a fluffy bob tucked behind her ears. But the way Zachary watches her and catches her hand to kiss it as she passes him makes it seem like an angel has just descended upon earth.

When she reaches me, she laces her arm through mine. “It’s so exciting to have you here. Zach and I were literally just saying everyone was so scared of you in Spearcrest.”

“Surely not,” I say with a little startled laugh.

“It’s the clipboard,” Zachary points out.

“Iwasn’t scared,” Evan assures me with a wink as he lets Theo pull me away from his side.

Zachary rolls his eyes. “You were more scared than the rest of us put together.”

“He’s still scared,” I say humbly. “It’s part of the charm.”

“Who’s scared?”

A willowy girl drifts into view, holding a steaming mug of tea. I recognise her instantly—not from real life, but from Séverin Montcroix’s endless social media posts.

His fiancée Anaïs Nishihara, the French-Japanese artist, has shoulder-length mirror-smooth black hair and fine, elfin eyes. She’s wearing a baggy blue sweatshirt over a small denim skirt, silver nail polish on her fingertips, and I barely have time to introduce myself properly to her when a tall, dark-haired man appears from the entryway, wearing a long black coat and holding some shopping bags.

Without even addressing anyone else, he dumps the bags, rushes over to Anaïs, and cups her cheeks to crush a breathless kiss to her mouth, uttering in a dramatic cry, “Ah, mais qu’elle est belle, ma femme!”

“Stop,” Anaïs laughs, extricating herself out of his embrace. “Sophie’s here.”

“Hey, Sophie, Merry Christmas.”

Séverin, who was definitely amongst those who hated me and my clipboard, seizes my shoulders and kisses both my cheeks. He smells of wine and a dark, smoky cologne, and it’s clear from thesparkle in his green eyes that he’s feeling festive. He takes my hands in his and checks my fingers before glaring up at Evan.

“No ring, Ev? What are you waiting for? Lock this woman down, man, for god’s sake. I can’t handle another summer of you bringing down the mood at Chateaux Montcroix ever again.”

“Not everyone believes in marriage,” Theodora says disapprovingly, pulling me away from him by my arm.

“I’d rather finish my studies first at least,” I tell Séverin with a smile.

Over Sev’s shoulder, I spot a flash of surprise on Evan’s face. Before he can open his mouth, Theodora leads me away, saying, “Come on, I want to show you the library. You’re going to love it.”

Anaïs follows us, and Theodora squeezes my arm in hers. By the time we reach the library, all the awkwardness has faded, melted out of me by the warmth of Theodora’s enthusiasm, by Anaïs’s laid-back presence and unassuming appearance, by the casual, fun chatter between us.

“Wish we’d been friends in Spearcrest,” Anaïs says to me after a while. “I would’ve had a much nicer time.”

“Me too,” says Theodora, and the shadow passing over her face makes me wonder for the first time if she didn’t have as good a time in school as I always assumed she’d had as one of Spearcrest’s elites.

I always assumed I was the only one suffering in silence, but maybe it turns out I was only one of many.

And, because they sound like they’re telling the truth, I also answer withthe truth.

“Me too.”

Wrapped in my coatand scarf, I breathe in deep, filling my lungs with clean, cold air. The past few days have been lazy, hazy and warm, spent huddled on old sofas or by fireplaces with cups of mulled wine or hot toddies, eating or talking or reading.

The air is still when we step outside for a Christmas afternoon walk, the sky a wide, unbroken expanse of pale silver, clouds smudged with darker grey at the edges. The countryside is quiet under a blanket of fresh snow, the naked branches of old elms glittering with frost.

Evan, standing beside me, stretches his arms over his head and lets out a deep, happy sigh.

“Well, this has been a lovely stroll,” he says, breath unfurling in the cold air. “Very nice. Maybe a littletoonice. We’re all getting soft. Lazy.” He glances at me as he starts backing away in the snow. “Complacent.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Don’t eventhinkabout it.”