I turned around. Dalia was back, partnering up with Sylas. She hadn’t left. My cold blood ran hot.
She hadn’t fucking left.
Instead, she had her reddened eyes fixed on me.
Well, look at that.
I smiled.
“So what do you think of my book?” Yasmine’s voice cut through the quiet of our dorm, her eyes locking onto the book I clutched tightly in my hands.
I pushed myself up from my bed, much to Baron’s displeasure, who was enjoying a comfortable nap, purring on my lap.
“It’s the worst thing I’ve ever read!” I exclaimed, my voice rising in frustration. “How can she willingly give herself to that arrogant, demonic king? He thinks he’s all-powerful, but he’s just a…” I struggled to articulate the word that danced on the tip of my tongue. “A big ‘A’ with a kink for making a girl cry.”
Yasmine blinked, scanning our surroundings as if searching for an invisible skeleton lurking in our closet. “Are we still talking about the book, or did I miss something here? Because I don’t think he’s—”
“Are you taking his side?” I retorted, narrowing my eyes at her, causing Baron to abandon my bed in protest. “Because I’m not going to let him ruin my life or become this soulless cruel person! He’s not going to make me give up!”
She shifted closer, her main goal apparently to rescue her book from my wrath. “I think it’s time for some girl talk, but leave the book unharmed.”
I breathed deep, a smile tugging at my lips. “It’s okay. I just don’t think reading about a possessive villain is good for me.”When I have my own villain to deal with in real life.
“They’re walking red flags, and red has always been my favorite color,” Yas said. “So you don’t want to talk about it? We have a few minutes before the first years’ meeting in the common room.”
“No, let’s not make Sylas wait.” I switched my satin slippers for my ballerina shoes. I’d express my feelings tonight by sneaking into the music room to play.
As we walked down the hall, the weight of the impending Hazing Night hung heavily in the air. When we arrived, the common room was already populated with all the first-year Unifiers. Sylas stood at the center, gesturing for everyone to gather closer.
“As you may know, Pantheon’s first tradition of the year is Hazing Night.” His voice carried a sense of gravity. “But what we do here is not like what you may have experienced in high school. The four houses will battle each other. It’s a strategy in which we cannot arrive last. Most likely, at the end of the night, five percent of the first years will go back home. Surviving at Pantheon is a test, probably the hardest you’ll ever have to face, but it’ll reward you for life.”
Yas couldn’t help but interject with a humorous, “Creepy much?”
I swallowed, my inner coward urging me to flee. This was a free pass for a night of bullying. “Yeah.”
“Hazing will start in forty-eight hours, this Saturday between ten and eleven o’clock. Second and third year students of each house attack the first years of another house. The house with the most prisoners wins the first ten house points of the year. Second place wins five, third wins two, and the last zero.”
Right. I’d read about the House Cup—one of Pantheon’s oldest traditions. At the end of the year, the House with the most points won, and usually, the top spot varied between Tacticians and Pioneers.
“In order for you first years to be captured by the enemy, they must grab the flag of the color of our house, which will be attached to your arm: see it as a chase. Departures will be given at the entrance to our respective dormitories. So you, first years, are the prey, and you have one hour to escape your hunters.”
One student raised his hand hesitantly. “Can any of us sit out on Hazing Night?”
“Not likely. We stand in unity. We’re stronger together, especially since we’ll face the strongest house this year.”
“Which house has to catch us, captain?” another asked.
Sylas grinned. “The Tacticians.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. My blood ran cold. Whispers gathered across the room. I was already imagining that maniac finding new ways to torture me. My father could never hear about this tradition.
“We—second and third-year students—must catch the first-year Guardians. They’ll have to catch the Pioneers, who have to catch the Tacticians, who have to catch us.”
“Only the first years who get caught have to suffer the hazing of the house that captured them. We can’t catch anyone; we’re just prey,” Yasmine whispered. “My sister never told me what happened during her hazing. I just knew she was caught by a Tactician hunter. She never wanted to talk about it. I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Isn’t hazing illegal?” I asked her. “Why would the university allow this?”
“Pantheon considers it a bonding ritual for first years within their house, but they’re clueless about half of what goes down on Hazing Night. No one would dare report the hazing; the others would turn on them.”
