Page 24 of Kingmakers, Year Two

“Don’t talk to me.”

She jerks a book out of her backpack and flops down on her bed.

I start to quietly unpack my own suitcase, neatly re-folding my clothes before slipping them into the dresser drawers.

My wardrobe is easy to organize because all the pieces of the uniform mix and match together: five crisp white dress shirts, six plaid skirts (three green, three gray), a sage-green pullover and another in white. Two gray sweater-vests and one in black. Five pairs of knee socks and five pairs of tights. One academy jacket, also black, with a crest on the breast pocket. Then our gym clothes.

I spend much longer on the task than is strictly necessary, not wanting to sit in frosty silence with my sullen roommate.

I don’t even know her name—I was too distracted when Saul read his list aloud. A proper Spy would have paid attention, matching each name with its corresponding student.

That’s probably why she scoffed at me when I introduced myself—she already knew my name and everybody else’s.

God, I’m fucking this up so bad already.

I sneak one quick peek at the girl, propped up on her pillow with the book in her hands.

Her dark hair is cut short, probably by herself with the wrong sort of scissors, as the pieces are choppy and uneven. She has a narrow face, dark almond-shaped eyes, a long, slim neck.

The pages of her book are thin and colorful. It might be a graphic novel. The cover is bright yellow with a red splotch on it.

That’s all I dare to observe, scared that she’ll catch me looking at her.

I place my toiletries on top of the dresser, then stack my sketchbooks and pencils on the nightstand. I slide my empty suitcase away under the bed.

Then I sit down on my thin, narrow mattress.

There. I did it. I unpacked.

Now I just have to get through the rest of the year.

4

ZOE

I’m surprised how much I enjoy coming back to Kingmakers.

I never intended to attend a mafia school, but I can’t deny that what we learn here is complex and fascinating. Who wouldn’t want to know ancient secrets handed down through generations of criminals?

Well, maybe Cat . . .

She looked like she was on death row when I hugged her goodbye at the Barcelona airport. I feel so guilty that she got roped into coming here along with me, all because of that sadist Rocco.

I know he only wants her here so he can use Cat as leverage against me—one more weapon in his arsenal. What fresh torment he’s dreaming up, I can only imagine. That’s the worst thing about him: the constant unease, like knowing there’s a viper in your house without actually being able to see it. Hearing it slither around inside your walls. Never able to rest in case it wriggles out from under your chair and bites you on the ankle.

I hope Cat is settling in as well as can be expected.

It’s difficult for me to check in on her, since we’re not in the same division or the same year. I’m an Heir, in name at least, even if my father never intends for me to take over his business. That means I room in the Solar with the rest of the female Heirs.

Cat, on the other hand, has apparently been stuffed down in some basement with an Icelandic vampire as a roommate. I’ve yet to meet this roommate, who Cat thinks is named Rakel, but can’t be certain because the girl refuses to speak to her.

I don’t have to worry about a roommate. I’ve got the same little broom cupboard as last year. It’s barely big enough to squeeze inside between the bed and the dresser, but I’ve got a nice big window and I don’t have to share it with anybody.

My two best friends are right down the hall. Anna and Chay get on with each other pretty well, except for the times when Chay has an interesting dream and decides to wake Anna up in the middle of the night to tell her all about it.

I’m thinking that’s what happened last night, because Chay comes down to breakfast already chattering away a mile a minute, while Anna looks barely conscious and thoroughly grumpy, twisting her silver-blonde hair up in a messy bun on top of her head, and wearing a school pullover that’s more holes than sweater.

Chay has on a full face of sparkly makeup, she’s prancing around in a brand new pair of knee-high white leather boots, and she streaked her hair bubblegum pink over the summer. She looks like Jem from the Holograms.

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