1
SABRINA GALLO
Ilean against the ship’s railing, letting the cold salt spray hit me in the face.
On the broiling deck, this is the only way to cool off. My hair will go insane, but I don’t mind.
I’m deliberately ignoring Ilsa Markov playing street craps against the base of the mast with a cluster of Enforcers. Likewise, she’s pretending not to notice how each bob of the ship tosses my skirt a little further up my thighs.
We broke up last night.
She said it was because she’s graduating. She’ll be joining her sister Neve in Moscow, while I’m stuck at school three more years.
We both know that’s not the real reason.
The last time we fought, she said, “I don’t think you’re cut out for a relationship.”
That stung. Technically, we were never “in a relationship,” but we’d been hooking up on and off all year long, and besides that, I actually liked her.
Ilsa’s one of the only female Enforcers, and the only student who can knock me on my ass in sparring. She gave me a black eye that covered half my face; I looked like the Phantom of the Opera. I like to count that as our first date.
Right now, she’s fleecing Archie Chan for every dollar he’s got left in his pockets. She’s rolling so well that Archie mutters something about loaded dice. Ilsa shoots him a stare that shuts his mouth fast.
Ilsa would sooner cut off her own pinky than cheat. I call her “Diana” not just because she looks like Wonder Woman, but because her code of honor is as hard-plated and immovable as Amazonian armor.
I don’t know if she likes the nickname. Ilsa doesn’t always love my jokes — probably another reason we split up.
I don’t have control over what comes out of my mouth.
The worse the situation, the funnier I find it.
My dad says I get that from my aunt Aida.
Nobody’s strangled Aida yet, though not for lack of trying.
I’m not sure I’ll be that lucky.
I’m not blessed with my aunt’s sunny disposition. In fact, at the moment I’m in a foul fucking mood.
Half my cousins are graduating along with Ilsa, or already have. Miles is gone, Leo and Anna are leaving.
I hate being younger.
I was excited to come to Kingmakers, but it’s impossible to catch up to the cousins who are already moving on again, starting their lives in the real world. I’m hot with jealousy.
The strict rules of the island grate on me, not to mention the humiliating “homework” and the relentless exams. The best part of the year was when we stole the Chancellor’s boat for an unauthorized field trip to Kazakhstan.
I hitch half a smile, remembering the one night I wholeheartedly enjoyed.
The night I met Adrik Petrov.
I already knew him by reputation. Adrik is legend at Kingmakers. He was forming his Wolfpack before he ever graduated, a clique of students so ruthless that even the professors were afraid of them.
He had my back on that little adventure. Don’t think that means I owe him one—I helped break his uncle out of a prison fortress, so we’re more than square.
Adrik ordered me to meet him on the dock in Dubrovnik on the last day of school.
I can’t decide whether it would be more fun to take a spin with Russia’s bad boy, or to disappoint him.