The room comes alive with conversation on the veil as juniors fill the empty seats, waiting for division assignments. “This is so exciting,”I whisper. Kellan chuckles, squeezing my hand once before letting go.
Anders stands at the front of the room with a few other students. I recognize only one—Trysten Asgir, Anders’ best friend. Trysten, also annoyingly handsome, is tall, like Anders, and toned with muscle. His lighter brown hair, similar to coffee with milk, is long on top and shaved down the sides, hanging to the right and framing his whiskey-shade eyes. Tattoos cover both arms. I’m sure he’s a heartbreaker, too. Why do all these men have to be so infuriatingly good-looking? Calia should reserve such looks for men with personalities to match.
Trysten’s father is King Aki’s best friend and second-in-command. I have no doubt the role falls to his son when Anders assumes the throne after graduation. It’s unprecedented for such a young royal to step in, especially with Queen Priana still alive and ruling, but she announced last year she plans to step down to let Anders rule in his father’s stead alongside his future Queen. The poor woman who Bonds with Anders better have enough personality for both of them and be ready to carry all the emotional weight of that relationship. The only thing I’ve heard Anders is capable of is the occasional brooding and standing there like an intimidating statue of boredom while women throw themselves at him.
“Okay, listen up,” Anders says. A hush falls over the room. Two students find their seats, as two more make their way to the front—one of them Princess Aolyn. A smile crosses my face as I watch my friend take her place. Her bluish-black hair, longer now, hangs loose like a curtain to her waist. She wears a striking black gown, not the standard issue; its dark hue is a stark contrast against her pale skin and ice-blue eyes lined with coal. She is devastatingly gorgeous, the kind of beauty that commands a room. She has high cheekbones, an oval face, and a perfect cupid’s bow on her pink lips. She must feel my attention because she turns, finding me immediately, offering a quick smile before turning back toward Anders.
“We have a long year ahead. Your workload doubles that of other Orders. You have more classes and more training—not just in your division, but all three. You are assigned a division you study with forthe rest of your time here. As a division, you attend classes together, train, eat, and learn to rely on each other. These are permanent; there is no changing them. So don’t ask. You rise or fall as one. As my dorm, I expect you all to get along. No fighting, no petty arguments, no drama. And gods, no damn Bonding—you know the rules.” He tucks his tablet to his side, gazing around the room.
“On the weekends, you may head into the village in groups of three. Check in with the admin office first to ensure your trackers are active, and be back before midnight.” Hushed voices spread through the juniors. We’ve never left campus on our own. I can’t wait. Exploring new cities and villages is a favorite pastime. However, it can often be a daunting endeavor due to security concerns.
He pauses, swiping a hand through his hair. It should mess up the style, but now it looks even better. Ugh, of course. Anders’ face grows serious. “With this most recent update on the veil, it’s important to train for whatever may come.” The veil was created by our gods, Astor and Calia, to protect us from their siblings. Almost a thousand years have passed since Astor and Calia left us, using all their energy to create the veil to keep Kane and Ravana from finding us. History paints the twin shadows as consumed by a spite so venomous they turned on their own people they were meant to protect. There’s something about the whole thing that leaves me with an unease I can’t place.
“War may come. It may be in our lifetime. It may not be. Without the help of the gods, we’re on our own. When you graduate, you head home to your kingdom. I’m here to make sure you learn everything you can before then.”
Right. Reality hits me square in the chest; I am not here to play. These are my people, part of my kingdom or not, and if the veil rips, they will seek refuge here in Treon. Every bit of knowledge I learn could save a life—maybe even my own. I squeeze my hands, nails biting into my palm, counting to ten, letting the wave of anxiety flow. Anders sets his tablet down, shifting his posture, but nothing changes the dread and apprehension in the air. It is so thick you could cut it with a knife.
“Divisions split into groups of roughly twenty juniors and twenty seniors. No transferring once placed, so don’t call Mommy or Daddy to rescue you.” The room chuckles. Anders commands a room, I realize, but he’s still a cocky, arrogant asshole. Sweat slides down my spine beneath my corset. I wish I weren’t wearing it, but rules; it’s the only way I attend school.
Anders’ eyes find mine and hold as he calls out the first division assignment. I tilt my chin up, ignoring the slight smirk on that handsome face. “Sky Division, your leader is Trysten Asgir.” Anders’ gaze leaves mine as Trysten steps forward, arms crossed. “If your name is called, make your way up here with your tablets for your assignment and schedules. First selected…”
Just kidding. They’re back to me. “Raea Tierson.”
All eyes swing. My heart stutters and stops.Me?My parents don’t want me flying. They pulled me from flight school in Specialists; only Chancellor Xara’s insistence that it was essential to Drithm courses finally allowed my training to proceed. Sky Division means I graduate with aeronautics and flight time for my own transport. My parents, who wanted me in Intel, won’t be happy.
I inhale, regaining a steady heart rhythm, and stand. I feel everyone’s eyes. I wish I were normal for once. This should be exciting, but it fills me with dread. Half the room is probably wondering when my parents will appear. The other half probably thinks my parents pulled strings.
I will my body into submission, taking the perfect posture, squared shoulders, and a confidence that’s nothing but a practiced facade. I stop before Trysten. His eyes cascade down my form-fitting black custom uniform—my favorite, a little tighter in the bust, showing more curves this year. I hold steady under his perusal, unwilling to show how exposed I feel. Everyone assumes they know me from news articles, seeing me as the spoiled brat who gets everything. They don’t know how hard I fight behind the scenes for normalcy, the endless arguments I only win with prepared research. Flying is all me; I spent hours doing it behind their backs. I want to prove I deserve to graduate, like the rest of them. I have only a few true friends here, the oneswho know the real me, so I allow myself this small moment of happiness, knowing I will share it with them later.
“Princess Raea.” With a confident smile, he taps his tablet against mine, populating my schedule. “Welcome to Sky Division.” I thank him, moving to his side, quickly glancing at my schedule: Politics, Aeronautics, Study Period, Combat Training, Divisions—flight school for me. History, Intelligence, Ethnography and Cultural Anthropology, Economics, Science, Government, and Bonding. Damn, that’s a lot. Classes scatter throughout the week, filling my schedule to the brim. My eyes widen, considering the workload to stay at the top. They weren’t kidding; this is far more than previous Orders. I already see late nights, early mornings, and weekends catching up. No wonder they let us go to the village—it’s to keep our sanity.
I look up, waiting as eighteen more students are called, none of them Kellan. I offer him a reassuring smile, hoping he gets Intel; he’s a natural. The unfortunate reality sinks in as we are dismissed to our seats, all nineteen filling the two empty rows below senior Sky Division. Anders’ strict rules about staying within our division mean I won’t sit with Kellan during dining hours.
“Recon Division, your leader is Colton Purk.” The names are called, and I breathe easy when Kellan’s name isn’t among them. The Recon Division primarily trains in the mountains, focusing on security and special operations—roles often filled by military or royal guards known as Regils. Though higher nobility and royalty rarely join Recon—things change.
“Intel Division, your leader is Princess Aolyn Seltn.” I sigh in relief. At least he will be happy since he wasn’t assigned to Veker. Anders reads the names, and sure enough, Kellan is the fourth called. We exchange a quick glance as he meets his division leader. With Kellan and I in separate divisions, we now have different classes and different schedules.
Taeolyn Hall has three classrooms based on our divisions, and we shuffle into ours next. This room is filled with long wooden tables arranged in four-tiered rows, each accompanied by swivel chairs. Between juniors and seniors, we number about forty in Sky Division.
I find a seat near the front next to a girl whose name I can’t recall, though I remember her from our third year. Her parents are from the Mori Kingdom, a planet in the far reaches of the system. I pull my tablet from my bag as she starts talking. “So, who do you think will be the team leader this year?” she asks quietly.
I meet her pretty amber eyes—common for Mori citizens due to their spices and dust. “Oh, um, I don’t know. I don’t think they will pick until we’ve completed the first round of testing.” I definitely do not need the job. My goal is to lay low and study; I’ve already agreed to take over the running club.
“I know, but you know pretty much everyone here, right?” I turn, looking around. I recognize almost every face and name, save for a few, and a beautiful blonde girl on the opposite side of the class. Tate Kinnunen, a Lord I befriended last year, walks in, his shirt untucked and combat pants loose. His black hair looks like he ran his hand through it and called it good enough. When he sees me, he grins, making his way over. Tate is easy to be friends with: hilarious and easy-going, with a don’t-give-two-shits attitude. He’s slender, tall, and always strolls, as if urgency isn’t part of his dictionary.
“Raea,” he says with his light accent and a smile on his face. His eyes are so dark they’re almost black. “Lovely to see you again.” I groan and roll my eyes, making him laugh; the sound is familiar and welcome. With this year’s workload, I will be relying heavily on him to keep my spirits up. I grin at him and turn back to the front as his arm swings over the back of my chair casually after taking up a seat on my right.
“I do, but that has little to do with how we will rank.”
“I’m Aada, by the way. We had the same dorm in Technicals.” Right. Technicals, or Techs for short, is the second Order for kids who are thirteen to fifteen-years-old. The room falls silent as Trysten and Anders walk in, deep in a hushed conversation. Anders positions himself in the far corner of the room, his face pulled into a tight, no-nonsense glare.
I love flying, even though my parents wish I didn’t. Kuron usually helps me sneak out of the castle for trips with Lieutenant Piori, whoflies missions around our kingdom almost daily. When Kuron can manage to sneak me out, I sit with Lt. Piori on the flight deck. Ezra, my other guard, doesn’t know; he’s much more by the books and far less fun.
“Okay, listen up,” Trysten starts, taking up a casual stance beside Anders. “As Sky Division, you learn how to launch in different weather. You learn how to not only pilot but also operate communications and navigation systems. We train you for the best possible success on a mission, should the need ever arise. Now, we all know the veil has seen areas that are weakening. The forces of the seven kingdoms push to those spots until they can be repaired.”
The veil itself is nothing more than an energy barrier; the magic within shields us from others. All seventy-two planets, moons, our seven suns, and Sgya are shielded. From our direction in space, you see nothing but vast emptiness. Journals from the emperor after the veil’s creation speak of days spent waiting with bated breath. Though they later breathed easier, we know it is temporary. The veil was never a permanent solution; the gods simply needed it to last long enough for us to be prepared.
And we are—or as prepared as possible when facing an unknown enemy. Factions claim the threat is gone, but I was not raised with such blind optimism. I visited colonies that were still mere shells from the first uprising; if humans cannot settle their own disagreements, what hope exists against something else? History repeats itself, and old arguments resurface. Humans are petty creatures, holding long grudges, driven by a relentless war for power, money, and control—a war that will continue until the end of days. As future queen, the safety of my people hangs heavy; I am not blind to the reality that I am part of the power those seeking to destroy it will.
