Page 54 of Spearcrest Knight

“That’s what I’m planning to do by not going.”

“Ha ha. You deserve to have fun sometimes.”

“I do.”

I sit up, lifting my phone up to my face. I text back quickly.

“Not the kind of fun I'm thinking of.”

“How would you know?”

This is the problem with Sophie. That wicked streak in her, those vicious claws she has a way of digging into my skin.

“Come to the party. We can find out.”

She types something, stops. Types something, then stops. I’m wondering if I’m finally getting through to her, if she’s going to give in. Her reply finally pops up.

“Maybe.”

I lock my phone and shove it away from me. I'm not quite sure whether I emerged from this exchange victorious. Let's be honest, amaybefrom Sophie is as good as a no. I should have known she’d be too uptight and rule-obsessed to party. Sophie doesn'tknowhow to have fun.

But I could show her. If only she wasn't such a coward.

Now I've got nothing but disappointment and the pent-up tension leftover from texting Sophie. I glance at my phone. If she doesn’t come to this party then I’m not going to get to see her until… when? Next term?

Not if I can fucking help it. I pick up my phone again and text Sophie.

“Hey, if you need some time away from school and your parents, my offer is still open if you wanna stay over during the holidays.”

She doesn’t reply in so long I almost forget I sent her the text. By the time she responds, I’ve gone for a short run and a workout, I’ve taken shower and made myself an omelette. My phone buzzes and I pause before I unlock it.

When I see her message, I let out a shout of triumph and punch the air.

“Why not x”

17

Despicable Cinderella

Evan

Thepeacegardenisone of the best party locations in Spearcrest. It’s split into eight quadrants, with pathways of broad flagstones dividing each quadrant. An enormous marble gazebo overlooks the garden, its wrought iron dome laced with ivy, and cedars and oaks shield it from all the main buildings, so we don’t have to worry too much about getting caught.

Still, I’m in a despondent mood when I arrive at the party.

The thought of hanging out with the other Young Kings—listening to Sev rail on about his fiancée when it's clear he just needs to get over himself and fuck her, watching Luca make out with any girl he thinks we might want or helping Zach find reasons to start a fight with Theodora—brings me no joy. There’s no girl I want to dance with, nobody I want to talk to.

I’d rather be at home, waiting for one text from Sophie than speak to pretty much anybody at the party.

I make a beeline straight for the gazebo, where the drinks are usually kept. I immediately spot Sev, who looks like some fairy tale prince in tight black pants and a loose white shirt that’s unbuttoned halfway down his chest.

He’s looking around distractedly and running his hand through his pitch-black hair, a sure sign that he’s stressed or nervous. I can only guess he’s looking for his fiancée. For somebody he claims to hate so much, he spends a lot of time thinking about her, talking about her or looking for her—but who am I to judge?

“What’s up, Sev?” I ask, grabbing a bottle of beer from one of the ornate marble plant pots somebody has thoughtfully filled with ice.

“Fuck, nothing,” he says.

His gaze sweeps the crowd anxiously; it’s obvious he’s lying. Instead of pressing him for information, I grab another beer and hand it to him.

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