Page 107 of Spearcrest Prince

“No.” Iakov’s lips curl around his cigarette. “You’re not a fool. You know it.”

I want to lie to him, and if it was any of the others—Evan, Zachary, or Luca—I would deny it till I was blue in the face. But there’s something about Iakov’s sinister black eyes, his stony expression and the strange little smirk on his face that makes me feel like he knows the truth, regardless of what I say.

And besides… I’m getting sick of denying it.

“Okay. So I like her. Now what?”

“Don’t ask me.” Iakov waves a hand, trailing a ribbon of smoke with him. “I’m not the right person to ask for advice. I’m the biggest of all the fools.”

My mouth drops open. “You?”

He nods. “Evan wants a girl who hates him. Zachary wants a girl nobody’s allowed to have. I’m worse than both of them. But you? You want the girl who’s already yours. So why are you making things difficult? Fuck her, put that ring on her finger, tell her you love her and be done with it.”

“What ring?” I mutter sullenly.

Even thinking about the ring makes me angry. Because when I think about the ring, I think about the night of that stupid date, the looks and kisses we exchanged. Looping the ring on the necklace and putting it around Anaïs’s neck when I’d been so scared she’d turn it down or refuse to wear it.

I should never have let her give me the ring back. I should never have let my pride stop me from stooping to pick it up after she dropped it on the floor in the arboretum. If I could go back, I would crawl on my hands and knees to find that ring.

But that’s just the effect Anaïs has on me. She makes me want to get on my hands and knees and crawl for her.

“This ring, moron,” Iakov grunts.

He reaches into his pocket with his free hand and tosses something at me. It glints in the light; I catch it mid-air. I open my fist.

A ring on a chain, opals and diamonds catching the light. I look back up at Iakov.

“How the fuck do you have this?”

He shrugs. “Heard your stupid argument in the arboretum. You’re both stubborn idiots.” He gestures at the ring and chain. “Thought you might regret leaving this behind.”

I nod slowly and pocket the ring. My chest is full of a feeling I can barely name. Something light and overwhelming that makes my ribs and lungs feel too tight. I sniff, look away and throw Iakov a sidelong glance.

“It’s not like you to meddle, Iakov.”

Iakov gives a half-smile that’s completely Iakov: sharp and toothy and a little feral. “Would you rather Zach get involved?”

I shudder. “Oh god, no. He’d just make me feel like a complete moron.”

Iakov raises an eyebrow. “Youarea complete moron.”

“Shut up, Kavinski.”

“Fuck off, Montcroix.”

WhenIarriveatmy meeting to discuss my sanction for wrecking the exhibit, Miss Imez and Mr Weston greet me at the door of his office. Mr Weston is solemn but warm. Miss Imez is detached and austere.

They’re going for the good cop/bad cop approach.

“We’ve given a lot of thought to what your sanction ought to be,” Mr Weston says gravely.

“Since the other students have already fixed most of the damage while you were away serving your exclusion,” Miss Imez says pointedly, “we have to think of another way for you to make up for what you’ve done.”

“With this sanction, we do not wish to give you a punishment just for punishment’s sake,” Mr Weston continues. “We wish this sanction to be formative and productive.”

My eyes flick from one to the other. They’re clearly ramping up to something, and it’s going to be bad news. But then, I suppose there’s no point in a sanction if it doesn’t make the perpetrator feel like shit.

“As you know, the end-of-year exhibition is the culmination of all the hard work the fine art and photography classes have produced over their final year here at Spearcrest Academy. Over the years, our exhibition has grown in reputation. These days, the exhibition is not only attended by parents, governors and notable alumni, but by respected members of some of the most important art communities in the world.”

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