Page 57 of Spearcrest Prince

“Look, do what you want, man.” Iakov’s deep voice has an edge to it, an emotion I can’t quite work out. “If you don’t want her, get rid of her. If you want her, have her. Fuck Kayana, fuck your heartbreak, fuck pain. Life is for fucking and hurting. If you want to do that with your weird little bride, then do it. Fuck everything else.”

I stare at him, surprised by this sudden outburst. For a man of few words, Iakov sure has no trouble making his opinions known when he wants to. I toss my cigarette into a bed of wet mud and mushy grass, and we head to the sixth form boys’ building together.

We walk in silence the entire way, but his words weigh heavy on my mind for a long time after that.

Chapter 21

Le Portrait

Anaïs

MyfirsttermatSpearcrest ends with a flurry of assignment deadlines, exams, and new snow. I wait for winter break with bated breath, half-hoping my parents will call me home to Aurigny, half-hoping they won’t.

On the one hand, I’m dying to return home. Dying to see the white house in the hills, the sapphire sea, my friends. On the other hand, holidays have been particularly bleak in the Nishihara household since Noël left. It’s always the same dilemma lately: I want to be home, but I dread seeing my parents.

In the end, my worries turn out to be a waste of time. On the first day of winter break, I get a curt text from my mum confirming I’ll be staying at Spearcrest over the holidays.

It hurts, but there’s no point in wallowing. I grab my sketchbook and pencils and head through the delicate snowfall to the Peace Garden. Sitting in the middle of the marble gazebo, I prop my sketchbook on my lap and start drawing, losing myself in the pencil strokes.

I start by drawing the outlines of dark trees against the moth-grey sky, but I end up doodling a face instead. Gorgeous features, sultry eyes, thick eyelashes. A lush mouth with a disdainful curling of the lip. Thick black hair falling romantically over one eye.

“What are you drawing?”

I look up with a start. Kayana Kilburn is strolling up the gazebo steps, a vision in the hazy winter daylight. She’s wearing a cream sweater dress and thigh-high boots under a long camel coat. There are gold rings on her fingers, her nose, lining her ears, adorning her long braids.

She looks good enough to belong on the pages of a magazine, but the sparkle of glee is missing from her hazel eyes.

“Nothing,” I say. “Are you alright? Not going home for the holidays?”

She shrugs and ambles closer. “Spearcrest might be depressing over the holidays, but trust me, my family would be more depressing.”

I understand more than she thinks.

“I trust you,” I tell her.

Scooting over to one side of my bench, I let her take a seat next to me. She glances at my sketchbook and looks back up at my face.

“Things going well with Sev?” she asks.

Her tone is light, but I sense something hidden beneath it.

“They could be worse,” I answer.

She glances at me. Her make-up is a work of art: her eyelids shimmer, her eyeliner is symmetrical and perfectly tapered, her mouth is the colour of burnt caramel. But her eyes are a little red, as if she’s been crying. She seems to want to say something but hesitates.

“Do you… like him?” I ask cautiously. “We’re not together. In case you’re wondering.”

A laugh of surprise bursts from her. “Oh god, no!” She sighs. “We used to go out, but it didn’t work out.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be. We weren’t compatible, and it didn’t end well.”

I say nothing. It’s an odd feeling listening to this. Kay looks sad, and I have the impression she wants to talk. I didn’t expect her confession, but it doesn’t completely surprise me either. Séverin’s reputation as a playboy is well-earned, and Spearcrest is full of beautiful girls, so of course he has a past here. And although I don’t feel any dislike towards Kay—she was the first one to befriend me, and she seems so sad it hurts my heart—I still can’t help the uncomfortable twisting sensation in my chest. It would seem I’m just not as indifferent as I wish I was hearing about this.

I’ve always known I wasn’t Séverin’s type, but Kay is a painful reminder of how different I am to the girls Séverin likes.

I know I shouldn’t care. Comparing yourself to others is a quick poison, and I try not to drink it if I can help it.

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