Page 52 of Kingmakers, Year One

“At breakfast. Why didn’t you tell me that happened?”

He’s glaring at me, cheeks flushed. He looks angry, but I know Leo well enough to see something else in his face. Something more like hurt, or suspicion.

“I don’t know,” I stammer. “The whole thing was stupid . . .”

“If he touches you again—” Leo growls.

“He’s not going to touch me. Leo, you need to chill the fuck out?—”

Before I can say anything else, the professor is calling the class to order again.

Leo is still simmering, his eyes returning to Dean on the other side of the room again and again.

And Dean looks back at us—not as often, but with a cold fury that easily matches Leo’s heat.

My stomach is churning. Classes have barely begun and already Leo’s getting into some kind of vendetta with Dean.

This isn’t at all how I wanted to start at Kingmakers.

7

LEO

After combat class we break for lunch.

Anna’s chatting with Ares about counterstrikes, but I’m still fixated on that fucking asshole Dean. Remembering the way his eyes ran over her body when he said, “I’ve already seen it.” Like he owns her, just because he saw her naked.

Just the fact that he saw her at all pisses me off. I don’t believe it was an accident, not for a second. And I bet Uncle Mikolaj would be furious if he heard about it.

I’m supposed to be watching out for Anna, taking care of her. On the very first day here some asshole is already trying to get his rocks off sneaking a look at her.

Not just any asshole.

Someone who wants to do us harm. Who’s hated us our entire lives.

I’m scowling as we walk, barely listening to Anna’s conversation with Ares.

Then I see the one thing that could possibly cheer me up.

A familiar figure slouches against the exterior wall of the Armory, hands stuffed in his pockets. He’s wearing the sameclothes as everybody else, but somehow on him it doesn’t look like a uniform.

Maybe it’s because each piece fits him flawlessly, or because he’s the only person I’ve seen who bought his trousers in sage-green instead of in sober gray or black, and he’s paired them with a set of limited-edition sneakers that I know sold out in about eight seconds when they hit the market. But of course Miles has always been able to get what he wants.

He’s got a shock of untidy dark curls that hang down over his face, and a bored expression that shows that he’s barely listening to the friend chattering away in his ear.

“Anna—” I interrupt her conversation. “Look!”

Anna glances up. Her face breaks into one of her rare full smiles.

“Miles!” she cries, running over to him.

Miles is Anna’s cousin by blood, and mine too. His mom is my dad’s sister, and his dad is Anna’s mom’s brother, if you can untangle that chain of connections.

He’s a year older than us, so he’s already in his second year at Kingmakers. That means we won’t have any classes with him, but I was hoping we’d see him on campus pretty often.

The right side of his mouth quirks up in a slow, lazy smile.

“Hey Tippy Toes,” he says to Anna, allowing her to slip under his arm for a hug, and even give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Hey All-Star.” He gives me a nod and a fist bump.

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