Page 22 of Kingmakers, Year Two

That infinitesimal glimmer of hope is immediately extinguished as we pass through the forbidding stone gates into Kingmakers. I swear the temperature drops twenty degrees within the towering walls, as the sheer size and scope of the castle becomes apparent. I see dozens of grandiose buildings, towers, greenhouses, balustraded terraces, and structures I can’t even name. I feel like I’ve been shrunk down to the size of an ant, dwarfed by the monumental architecture.

The friendly chatter ceases amongst the Freshmen in my wagon as we gaze awestruck all around us.

If I thought my fellow Freshmen were intimidating, it’s nothing to how the upperclassmen strike me. They’re tall and powerfully built, striding across the grounds with confidence I could never dream of possessing. They don’t look like students at all—more like royalty. They’re haughty and powerful, with an edge of ferocity that quite frankly terrifies me.

I’ve been around the children of mafia before. But never like this, neveren masse. Every single person here is a born killer.

Except for me.

I don’t know why I didn’t get that particular gene. There’s none of my father in me.

I crane my neck, looking for Zoe. She’s nowhere to be seen. Her classes started a week ago, so she’s probably inside one of the many buildings, diligently taking notes on some professor’s lecture.

The wagons jerk to a stop and the Freshmen unload. There’s a scramble as we try to dig our suitcases out of the wagon full of luggage. Once we’ve all secured our bags, we’re greeted by a handful of disdainful-looking Seniors who split us up according to our divisions.

The Enforcers are the most numerous, and almost entirely composed of male students. At Kingmakers, boys outnumber girls four to one. Not all mafia families care to send their daughters to be trained. My father had no intention of sending either Zoe or me, before Zoe refused to marry Rocco Prince unless she could attend college first.

She thought he’d send her to a normal university. Instead he ordered her to join Rocco at Kingmakers.

Now I’ve been thrust into that devil’s bargain right alongside her.

The Accountants are the second-largest group, and the only division with an almost equal split of girls and boys. Most of the kids in from my wagon happily head off together, taking Perry along with them. She gives me a little wave as they depart.

Now only the Heirs and Spies are left.

We’re similar in number, but our appearance couldn’t be more different. If Kingmakers were a high school cafeteria, the Heirs would be the cool kids: confident, well-dressed, already assembling their circle of admirers.

The Spies are, to put it bluntly, the misfits.

The baker’s dozen Freshman Spies show a clear tendency toward heavy piercings, strange tattoos, exotic hair colors, and dour expressions.

Then there’s me. I stand there like a lamb among wolves. A schoolgirl in the center of a biker gang.

I can feel the other Spies looking at me, and I don’t know how to wipe the stupid doe-eyed expression off my face.

Our guide is a tall, lanky Senior wearing an oversized olive-green sweater vest and a pair of shredded trousers tucked into military boots. His long dark hair hangs over his ears and his hoop earring makes him look a bit like a pirate.

I’ve already noticed that while Kingmakers students are required to wear uniforms, they seem to have no compunction about styling said uniforms according to their personal preference.

“I’m Saul Turner,” our guide says lazily. “I’ll show you to the Undercroft.”

I have no idea what an Undercroft is, and I don’t want to be the one to ask. I fall in line behind Saul, pulling my suitcase along beside me.

Saul leads us to what looks like the very center of the Kingmakers grounds, to the largest and grandest of the buildings.

“This is the Keep,” he announces. “You’ll have a lot of your classes in here. Your combat classes will be over there in the Armory,” he jerks his head toward a squat building with rounded walls, “and straight past that is the dining hall. Library is waaaay down there.” He points to the northwest corner of campus where I can see a tall, spindly tower rising above everything else. “That’s basically all you need to know for now.”

I wasn’t paying attention to much after the mention of “combat classes.” When exactly are those going to start? I just know I’m gonna get punched in the face my very first day.

My stomach feels heavy as a stone.

Saul continues walking toward the Armory. We trail after him like a row of obedient ducklings.

“The Undercroft runs all the way under there,” he points to the long expanse of open lawn between the Armory and the dining hall.

“Where?” a grouchy-looking girl with a septum piercing demands. She looks around as if expecting a dormitory to materialize from thin air.

“Right under your feet,” Saul laughs.

---