Page 10 of The Kings
“Looks like Hughes has set the standard,” someone calls out, and a murmur ripples through the crowd of watchers as I burst into a brightly lit room set up like a bar with TVs watchingthe moves of everyone going through the test. Regaining my composure quickly and sweeping my hair over my shoulder, I press my lips together.
Was that it? Guess so.
A round of applause breaks out, and I grin, only slightly out of breath.
They know now—if they didn’t before—that I’m more than a name. I’m a force, and this is just the beginning.
“Better luck next time,” I toss over my shoulder, striding past my rivals with a smirk as they launch through the door to the baying of the crowd. Their skills might be formidable, but I am relentless. This underground realm beneath Castle’s hallowed halls will remember my name and fear it.
I glance over to the bar briefly, catching sight of Raphael and James leaning forward, their expressions unreadable. Are they impressed? Intimidated? I can’t tell, and frankly, I don’t give a fuck. Let them brood. I’m not here for their approval; I’m here to conquer.
As I weave through the tables, leaving whispers and awed looks in my wake, I know this isn’t the end, but only the beginning. I’ve earned my place to fight for the throne, not the throne itself.
Big difference.
But it’s a start.
Before I can take another step, someone comes up behind me, the subtle scent of expensive cologne preceding him.
“Eliza Hughes,” he says, his voice a low hum that vibrates across my skin.
Turning, I give him an uninterested once-over. “Yeah, who are you?”
“David Grenville. You’ve heard of me?”
His expression is smug and arrogant, and it irritates me. I have heard of him. He’s a third-year with more connections than the London Underground if his dad is anything to go by.
“Can’t say I have,” I murmur, eyes lingering on his full lips as he lets out a hiss when I bruise his ego.
He rallies quickly, as expected. His eyes roam over my dirt-streaked face and sweat-dampened clothes. “You’ve made quite the impression this morning.”
“Always do.”
“Which is why you’ve been invited,” he continues, ignoring me, and hands me a black envelope with a gold seal. It’s unspoken, but we both know what it is—an invite to an affair where only the elite rub shoulders. “Tonight,” he adds. “Don’t be late.”
Taking it, I tuck the envelope into my back pocket. “I’ll be there.”
“Good.”
When I turn back around to find my way out of this room and back to my bag, I come up short as James is standing right behind me, having somehow snuck up on me while I was talking to David. Going to have to watch for that.
“You did good,” he murmurs, holding out my bag.
Eyeing it up suspiciously, it appears as I left it, but if he went rooting through it, he would only have found a few loose tampons, my purse and basic handbag junk that every woman tends to carry around.
“Thanks,” I say, taking it and slinging it over my shoulder. “Better go get that class schedule.”
He nods and steps aside to let me go. I’m a fucking mess, but Dad was quite explicit. Grades up or else.
Personally, I’m not a fan of the ‘or else’ portion of this threat.
6
ELIZA
Hours later,I’m back on campus after scrubbing away the grime and dressing in a sharp, black dress that hugs every curve with my hunting knife strapped to my outer thigh. The university’s grand old buildings are now a backdrop for something far more clandestine—the mafia’s playground.
Striding across the campus in the dark, I shiver at the slight breeze that picks up, puckering my nipples and sending goosebumps over my skin.
