Page 1 of Spearcrest Knight

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Sophie

Istandoutsidetheassembly hall and take a long, deep breath. The smell of fresh-cut grass and honeysuckle fills my lungs. It’s the first day of the autumn term, but it still smells like summer.

This is my last year at Spearcrest. Even though I started here halfway through high school, it still feels as if I’ve spent a lifetime here. When my parents got jobs in the admin team and managed to get me a place here, they’d considered it a blessing. Never would I otherwise have had the opportunity to attend one of the most prestigious academic institutions in Europe. Never would I have been able to rub elbows with the sons and daughters of millionaires and aristocrats.

Except it hasn't turned out to be quite the dream I was sold. The campus is something straight out of a fairy tale, the education is world-class, the teachers exceptional.

Everything else… not so much.

Still. This is my last year.

I’ve made it this far—the finishing line is finally in sight. All I have to do now is keep my head down, focus on my exams and university applications, and then I’m free.

Free to leave Spearcrest, get as far away as possible from its claustrophobic world of elitism, nepotism and narcissism.

Loud noises interrupt my thoughts and I close my eyes, bracing myself for impact.

Walking up the path towards the assembly hall with their shirts untucked and their carefully curated nonchalance are the so-called Young Kings of Spearcrest. Luca Fletcher-Lowe, Iakov Kavinski, Séverin Montcroix, Zachary Blackwood and Evan Knight.

Combined, their five families are wealthier than the rest of England put together. And that’s something they don’t let you forget. Their straight postures and easy manners are only this relaxed because they know they’ll never have to face consequences for anything they do as long as they live. Their sleeves are only rolled back to show off their obscenely expensive watches.

Every careless little thing they do is calculated to project wealth and power.

I glance at the tower clock. They’re fifteen minutes late to assembly. Although I make a quick note of it, I say nothing as they approach. I might be a prefect, and I might hate the way they think rules don’t apply to them, but I’m not about to draw their attention or their displeasure.

I know better.

Instead, I keep my head down, eyes glued to the clipboard propped against my legs. I stand utterly still, like a trapped rabbit playing dead while it waits for prowling wolves to pass it by.

If only things were that easy.

“Mr Fletcher-Lowe!” roars a stony voice from behind my shoulder. “Mr Kavinski, Mr Montcroix, Mr Blackwood and Mr Knight!”

Shit. I push myself back against the red brick wall, hoping and praying that the headmaster, Mr Ambrose, doesn’t drag me into this skirmish.

“This is the first assembly of your final year here upon the hallowed grounds of Spearcrest. Is this how you want to begin such an important year?”

The self-titled Young Kings might run Spearcrest all they like, but even they have no choice but to bend the knee in front of Mr Ambrose. An alumnus of the school and its headmaster for the past fifteen years, Mr Ambrose rules with an iron fist. Unlike all the teachers at Spearcrest, Mr Ambrose isn’t one bit scared of the Kings’ parents.

And that makes him untouchable.

Unlike me.

“My Kavinski, tuck your shirt in—and try not to get into any fights this year. Mr Montcroix, that tie is not a fashion accessory, and those fanciful rings are in direct violation of the dress code policy. Mr Knight, must you forever look as though you’ve just emerged from some brawl in a village pub?”

With great reluctance, the boys obey Mr Ambrose and grudgingly fix their uniforms. I hardly dare breathe. So far, it seems my presence has been completely forgotten.

I can only pray and hope it remains so.

If only my luck was that good.

“Miss Sutton," Mr Ambrose booms, "you have the lateness register. Write down all their names, and log an hour’s detention for every late-comer. Now, let us hurry inside, gentlemen. Welcome to your final year at Spearcrest.”

He pivots on his heels and disappears through the entrance. I keep my eyes down, waiting for the boys to follow him inside.

Another prayer that goes completely ignored.

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