Page 29 of Spearcrest Knight

She doesn’t even dignify this with a response—not even a roll of her eyes. She simply turns around and walks off towards the pastoral office.

I grab her elbow once more and turn her around to face me.

“What do you want?” she grinds out between clenched teeth.

“I want to talk about the tutoring programme.”

She shakes her elbow loose from my grip and glares at me. “Talk to Miss Bailey.”

“I want to know where you’re going instead of tutoring me.” I cock an eyebrow and tilt my head. “Can’t exactly ask Miss Bailey, can I?”

For a moment, we just stare at one another. Her dark eyes slice into mine like black blades. Her face is hard with dislike and mistrust. But at least she’s looking at me, her attention entirely focused on me.

Not on Luca, or the other Young Kings. Not on some random guy outside of school. She’s here, with me, just within my grasp—exactly where I want her.

“Look, Evan,” she says finally, her raspy voice low and firm. “If you have a problem with the tutoring programme, talk to Miss Bailey. If you want to grass me up for not doing the tutoring programme—talk to Miss Bailey. I don’t owe you the truth—I don’t owe you anything at all. And even if I did, let me make something perfectly clear to you: I do not trust you. I willnevertrust you. I would love to be able to say I have never trusted you, but we both know that’s not true—and that’s exactly how we got where we are today. You might not learn from your mistakes, since nothing ever happens in your life to force you to learn, but luckily for you, we can both learn frommymistakes. And trusting you was the biggest of those mistakes.”

Her lips curl in a cold, hard imitation of a smile. “And with that said, I’m going to walk away and get on with my day. As for you, you can just go right ahead and—oh, I don’t know—fuck off.”

And then she whips around, her long ponytail following in a graceful arc, the tip whipping against my chest, and she strides away.

The Last Time Sophie Trusted Evan

MyfirstChristmasawayfrom Spearcrest was like waking up from a nightmare but then realising you are still asleep, just in a slightly different nightmare. My parents spent the entire holiday asking me about school, the teachers, the lesson. Asking me about the other kids, the friends I’d made.

I could talk well enough about the quality of the learning, about how hard I’d been working, about enrolling into after-school clubs. My teachers across almost every subject told me I’d be moving up sets after the holidays—a clear proof of my academic capabilities.

But this wasn’t really what my parents wanted to know. Doing well at school wasn’t the kind of thing they could be impressed by because it was what they expected—the bare minimum.

What they really wanted to know was whether I was making the most of the opportunities Spearcrest presented me. They wanted to know who I’d made friends with, if I was making connections with the kids of politicians, or actors, or lawyers, or CEOs.

I kept all my answers vague. I didn’t want them to lecture me about the importance of making connections in Spearcrest. Equally, I didn’t want them to go snooping around my friends, though of course, I only had one friend. Evan.

But if I told them about Evan I would inevitably have to deal with the questions, with them giving me a whole breakdown of his family’s wealth and importance. And I didn’t want that.

Spending time with Evan made me forget I was in Spearcrest. It made me feel, even for a little while, like I was a normal teen with a normal school. Evan didn’t talk about his family, or his money. He talked about films he liked, comics he read, his favourite sweets and snacks, about his sister and his dog. Normal things, like a normal person.

So I spend most of the holiday hating my time away and simultaneously dreading the new term, but when the new term starts, it’s not as bad as I thought. Lining up outside the main hall for the start of term assembly, I’m just staring out at the pale grey sky and the snow crowning the naked branches of the trees when a hand grabs my elbow.

I turn and see summer sky-blue eyes and a headful of curls gleaming like pale gold. A smile rises to my face. “Hey.”

“Hey, you.” Evan’s grin is all dimples and bright white teeth. He pulls a box from his pocket and hands it to me. “Merry late Christmas.”

I take the box. “Is this for me?”

“Yeah. It’s your Christmas present. Open it.”

My heart beats so hard in my chest it’s practically bruising my ribs. The box is small, but beautifully packaged in powder-blue paper, with a silver bow and curly ribbons.

Tearing open the wrapping feels almost rude, but Evan’s eager expression urges me on. I open the small box to find a small silver necklace, a tiny silver bear hanging from it.

Not a teddy bear, but a real bear, a tiny real bear with a long snout. I look up.

“Bears are my favourite animals.”

He smiles. “I know. They are super smart and are some of the only animals who grieve for each other—I remember.”

I swallow back a lump in my throat and close the box. “I didn’t get you anything.”

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