Page 125 of Spearcrest Prince

“This isn’t settled,” she says finally.

“On my end, it is.” I meet her glare with a smile. “Are you coming to the lake on Friday?”

She narrows her eyes and pinches her lips. My smile doesn’t falter.

“Fine!” she exclaims, and without another word, she storms out.

“I love you!” I call after her.

Silence answers. Then she pokes her head through the door, still glaring at me.

“I love you too.”

Onthelastdayof Year 13, it’s a Spearcrest tradition to end the year with a party by the lake past the trees at the north end of the campus.

The weather, having finally softened, seems almost nostalgic, a soft, cool sun falling behind a hazy purple horizon. A bonfire has been built on the sandy bank of the lake. The other Year 13 students sit in pairs and clusters on the grass, the banks, or the wooden jetties scattered around the lake.

Next to me, Evan sits, bouncing his leg nervously, his eyes fixed on a nearby jetty. I follow his gaze and spot Sophie Sutton, his beloved prefect, with her long brown hair, sitting with her legs hanging from the jetty, sharing a bottle of champagne with her friends.

“Just go to her already,” I say, shoving Evan’s big shoulder.

He shrugs me off with a sigh. “What if she doesn’t want to see me?”

“Then she’ll let you know. Sutton might be a stone-cold bitch, but at least she’s honest.”

“Talking of honesty,” Evan says, finally tearing his gaze from his darling prefect. “Heard about your little art exhibition speech.”

“Don’t start,” I say, lying back in the grass, propped on my elbows.

“Why wasn’t I invited?” he asks, kicking my ankle. “I had to find out about your grand love confession from Zach and Iakov.”

“I didn’t invite them either,” I assure him. “They just crashed the party. I should have known they would make fun of me behind my back.”

“Neither of them made fun of you,” Evan says. “Not even Zach.” His features suddenly soften, and a strange smile plays on his face, a mixture of rue and amusement. “It feels so stupid, looking back. Worrying about… worrying about so much stupid shit. Don’t you feel happier now? Now that you’ve told your girl how you feel? Now that you’re no longer hiding?”

“I was never lying,” I mumble, disturbed by Evan’s uncharacteristic introspection.

Falling in love must really have the power to change someone because Evan would have been the last person I would ever have imagined reflecting on the error of his ways. Him—or Luca, who’s sitting gazing out at the lake through a faceful of bruises.

I look around the lake, at the people that have surrounded me for the last seven years of my life. The girls I’ve slept with and dismissed, the boys I commanded as easily as an army of soldiers. All the students I never deigned to spend time with, never considered worthy of my time.

Why did I care so much about what they would think of me, how they would perceive me?

Evan might be right after all. It does all feel stupid now, looking back. It feels small and pointless and dull.

I open my mouth to admit as much to him, but he springs to his feet, fists clenched, the determination of a warrior about to face a fearsome foe on his face. “Right. I’m going to go talk to her.”

I laugh. “You do that, then.”

He stomps away, and I continue searching the crowd. Anaïs said she would be here—I’m pretty confident she wouldn’t have bothered lying to me about coming.

Watching Evan creeping up to his prefect, Zachary locked in some argument with his ice queen, I no longer feel amusement and disdain.

I just feel jealousy. I just wish I, too, was embarrassing myself over my girl.

Mon trésor. My Anaïs.

I spot Iakov in the crowd and scramble upright. He’s standing a little away, one shoulder against the trunk of an old fir, smoking. There’s a slight smile on his face as he talks down to someone.

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