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Shit, that’s right, I can’t have too much resentment for Kaelis and his domain…

“Oh, of course, that’s wonderful. I’m exceedingly lucky for that.

” I take a large bite of food and chew slowly to give myself time to collect my thoughts.

“It’s only that, I wish I could skip being an initiate and student and go right to our future life together. ” I force myself to beam brightly.

“I can only imagine.” Luren seems to believe me.

Kel does not. The latter continues to peer at me through her cherry-red hair, swooped to one side and shadowing half her face. Her skepticism is dangerous. I can’t risk anyone believing I’m not exactly what Kaelis claims. Otherwise the Halazar guards might not leave so readily next time.

“Accepted into the Fire Festival last minute because you were busy finding out your long-lost lineage of Clan Hermit—revealed to you by the prince who destroyed that clan but whom you fell in love with anyway.” Luren sighs wistfully. “It’s quite the epic romance.”

“You’ve heard all these rumors in the span of an evening?” I arch my brows.

“The people here…most of them, at least…they don’t pay attention to people like us.” She gestures between herself and Kel. Common-born, not noble, is what she means to say. I barely refrain from vocalizing my understanding of it.

“We can linger, and their attention will gloss right over us as though we’re invisible,” Kel adds. They’re absolutely right, and it would’ve been my approach…if Kaelis hadn’t ruined that chance for me by introducing me in the splashiest way possible.

“I think we could help each other out,” I muse. I might not be able to blend in, but they can.

“How so?” Luren sounds curious.

“I don’t know if we want your help.” Kel nudges her friend and gives a pointed look.

What? Luren mouths in reply.

Kel rolls her eyes.

Just as I’m about to make my proposition to them, a woman approaches. I recognize her instantly from her pin. But also from her eyes, face shape, and silvery shade of hair, even if hers is cut short, midway down her neck.

All twenty Majors be damned…my roommate is related to the King of Swords. Arina mentioned that House Swords was not to be trifled with. And here I am with the King herself setting her eyes on me.

“Clara.” She draws out my name. “I hear you’ve come into the academy as quite the inker.”

I take a bite of biscuit, chewing thoroughly to keep her waiting before I respond, holding her gaze steadily the entire time. “And who might’ve told you that?” I know who. Only one initiate or student so far has had any indication that I’ve inked anything before, but I want to hear her say it.

She shrugs nonchalantly and pulls out the chair across from me, dropping into it with graceful ease. All the other initiates at breakfast lean away and focus on other conversations, intimidated by her mere presence. “Word gets around.”

“Word from your…sister?” I venture a guess.

The flash in her eyes, a brief and protective glare that’s as deadly as a dagger, tells me all I need to know. “The half-full holster at your thigh speaks louder than any whispered rumor.”

The table’s chatter has now been silenced.

“What of it?” I shrug.

“A lot of inking in one night for a new initiate.”

“How do you know they’re inked?” I lean forward and rest my chin in my palm. “They could all be blanks, ready to absorb the knowledge of our great teachers here in the school.”

“Don’t insult my intelligence.” She scoffs and leans back. “Anyone who wields the cards with that much confidence during the Fire Festival has used them before.”

“As I’m sure you’re well aware as a King of the academy, using cards and inking them are two different skills entirely.”

She purses her lips. “How else would someone like you have access to cards if you didn’t ink them yourself?”

“You know as well as I that inking cards is regulated by the crown, as is the sale of materials and finished cards. It’s monitored by each of the noble clans, kept to those among their ranks.

” I put on my best innocent voice, as if I’m confused by what she’s implying.

“How would someone like me have any access to practice? I might be the heiress of Clan Hermit, but it’s not as if we have any court Arcanists or deep coffers these days.

I only found out about my lineage recently.

” I get my tone as close to mocking hers as I can without being overt.

She has no reaction. “Or, the prince has been supplying all the usual resources for a clan to you directly, given your attachment to him.”

“Jealous?” I’m genuinely curious what her reaction will be. Kaelis did say there are those who would kill to be his bride, and she seems perfectly capable of murder.

“Hardly,” she scoffs, and I believe it. She’s clearly not someone who has any desire to be at Prince Kaelis’s side. Smart woman. “I merely want to ensure all initiates have equal opportunities.”

“That isn’t how this academy works, and we both know it.”

Her face remains passive. “Perhaps you are noble, after all.”

Before I can respond, a chime resonates through the academy, loud and clear, cutting through the growing tension. Students begin moving, the King of Swords included.

“Stay out of my sister’s way,” she says with quiet malice as she stands.

That’s what this is about. She doesn’t care about “equal opportunities.” She cares about Alor.

“If you so much as look at Alor wrong, you’ll have the wrath of House Swords so far down your throat that you’ll be shitting daggers, never mind what Clan Tower would do to you. ”

With that, she’s among the first to stride from the hall.

“She’s…cheerful,” Kel says under her breath.

“I couldn’t be luckier to have her sister as my roommate,” I say dryly and stand with the rest of them.

Luren follows, leaving her half-finished plate behind. Mine’s so clean it’s like I licked it. I know I’ll need every scrap of food I can get and then some if I want to return to my usual strength and get out of here. Kel isn’t far behind.

“Alor is related to the academy’s current King of Swords, Emilia Ventall.

They’re both daughters of High Lord Moreus Ventall,” Luren says matter-of-factly.

Fantastic. The heir of Clan Tower now has her eyes on me.

“They spent their early years in the military rank and file of Tower before the academy.”

“How do you know that?” I side-eye her.

“We know who all the initiates are related to,” Luren says confidently. “We figured that out yesterday. There’s not many nepotism house slots this year.”

“Don’t give her all our information.” Kel hooks Luren’s arm.

“I’ll figure it out soon enough anyway,” I interject before Kel can tug Luren away. “Perhaps we can help each other while we’re here.” I return to my earlier notion.

“How so?” Kel asks skeptically.

The walk to our first class is just long enough for me to roughly detail my idea: They will be eyes and ears for me; in exchange, I’ll help ensure that they have all the skills they’ll need for All Coins Day and the Three of Swords Trials.

We provide one another with information and help one another with tarot—fill in any gaps in knowledge all around.

Of course, I will censor myself as needed, but they don’t need to know that.

We arrive at a large workshop just as our discussion wraps up.

Light streams through tall, arched windows and dances on the polished surfaces of every desk—each initiate has their own place.

Hanging from the walls are a variety of charts painted across long scrolls that nearly touch the floor.

Each one contains diagrams of symbols inside carefully inked frames with rigid lines, all rendered with painstaking precision.

“We’d love—” Luren starts to say.

“We’ll think about it.” Kel cuts off her friend’s excitement and begins to tug her away.

“Make sure you do,” I say to their backs as they turn. “We’re stronger when we look out for each other.” And the true value of my offer will become apparent as my skills have an opportunity to shine in classes.

Kel casts one more skeptical glance my way and leads Luren to two desks a few rows back and one away from where I stand. Never have I felt so…othered. The nobles part around me and cast withering looks. The commoners regard me warily.

I bite back a sigh.

“This seat taken?” Dristin motions to the desk next to me.

“No.” I hadn’t even heard him come up.

“Excellent.” He sits.

Movement at my left has my head swiveling in that direction. Sorza has occupied the other desk at my side. Her eyes dart my way, and a little smile crosses her lips, but she says nothing.

They’re not your friends, a voice cautions.

But they could be. I set my satchel down on the desk before me and waste no time filling the drawers with the supplies I brought.

Excitement laces up my spine. For all the questions I still have, for all I must do, I can’t deny the thrill at the opportunity to learn the academy’s approach to inking, and with seemingly unlimited access to all the best tools.

The professor strides to the front of the room, positioning herself in front of a long table.

Her rich brown skin is barely wrinkled, despite the age betrayed in her hazel eyes.

Her jet-black hair is intricately braided and cascades down her shoulders, decorated with tiny silver charms whose symbols I can’t make out from where I sit.

She wears a flowing dress of sapphire silk, accented by a waist cincher of supple leather.

“Greetings, initiates.” She has a kinder voice than I expected. Firm, yet warm. A Coin during her time in the academy, if I had to guess. “I am Lady Raethana Duskflame, head professor for inking. You may call me Lady or Professor Duskflame.