I needed to know.
Mattie left me at the classroom door, and once she was gone, I hurried across to my desk. This was one of my favorite subjects, and I was excited for the discussion on the text this week. World lit was a subject universally studied—an attempt by the monarchies to unify the world with a shared love of literature. We all knew it was a bullshit smokescreen to cover their rivalries. Monarchies cared about power and money, nothing else, and it was a shitty system because it was an inherited position. So there was no choice for us. No voting. No freedom.
“Hurry, please,” the teacher said. “We have a lot to get through today.”
I was starting to sense a theme in the coursework here: there was lots of it.
Taking a seat in the middle and off to the right side, I tried to ignore the many curious looks shooting my way. I could tell they were wondering how the hell a scholarship student had managed to finagle her way to a royal table.
I was wondering that myself.
“I’m Professor Tulsa, and I’ll be teaching World Literature 101 for your freshman year.”
Forcing myself to pay attention, I noted how young she was for a professor—maybe late thirties—with a severe black bob that sat just above her shoulders, thick dark glasses, and a desperate need for an eyebrow wax. They were so thick and unruly they almost made it look like she had a second frame around her spectacles.
She cleared her throat, her expression serious as she gestured to the huge stack of thick books piled up on her desk.
“This is your reading list for this year,” she said, and I fought back a groan. It wasn’t that I hated to read, far from it, but I was more into lighthearted fantasy tales. Straight up, I could tell this class was going to be heavy on the classics and light on fun.
Students around me started to note all the books from the visible spines, and I decided to do the same. “Copies are available on your palm readers,” the professor continued, “or you can find paperback copies in the library. I know more than a few of you prefer the archaic way of enjoying your stories.”
Snobby and bad eyebrows. Already she was going on my least favorite teachers list. What she did next would determine how high on that list she rated.
“And to start,” she said, a smile finally gracing her thin lips, “we will have a quiz to determine your current knowledge, or lack thereof, regarding these very important stories that shaped entire generations.”
Okay, it was settled then. The bitch was right at the top.
Fuck my life.
By the time classes had finished, I felt like a wrung-out cloth, limp and half dead. I had an hour until it was time to get to the soccer field to meet Alex, and all I wanted to do was shower and crawl into bed for a billion hours of sleep.
Mattie’s warning about not falling behind urged me toward the library, though, where I proceeded to get through a bunch of my homework before I hastily packed up, needing to sprint to the field to make it on time.
As I left, I noticed the library study desks were packed, and I tried not to panic at how full-on this next four years were going to be. Maybe meeting Mattie wasn’t the best thing that could happen because I clearly had no time for friends.
One good thing about winning the Princess Ballot was the minimal GPA requirement for me to stay at Arbon. I just had to pass. But the competitive part of me wanted to prove that I was as good as the rest of them here, despite my lack of money and royal title.
The cold slammed into me as I dashed into the long walkway that led to the indoor sports center. Shivering, I hoisted my heavy bag higher on my back, wishing for a split second that I had a palm reader like the other students. They could record the lessons, do their homework and submit it to teachers, and keep all their notes in nice, neat files.
Maybe I needed to ask the dean if there was any chance I could work one off or something. It would help immensely in not falling behind.
Entering via the double doors, I shivered for a few seconds until the heat kicked in. It wasn’t exactly hot inside, because that would probably kill those guys out on the field, but the climate control took some of the icy edge off.
The soccer field was surrounded on all sides by massive stadium seating. Like, they must get fifty thousand people to their games to fill this shit up. The lower levels were packed with primping, giggling chicks, all of whom shot dirty looks my way when I climbed up to sit on one of the benches near the field.
I should have been worried about the dark looks getting thrown my way, but honestly, I could see nothing but the fucking gods on the field.
I loved sports—any sort of physical activity—but soccer had always been a rich person or royals’ game. So I’d never really paid too much attention to it.Holy god damn.
I couldn’t tell exactly how many players were on the field, but it looked like nineteen or twenty. One side wore white shirts, which stretched across broad shoulders, and their long legs were graceful as they maneuvered the ball between players.
The other side had white shirts too, but they had bright orange tags on their front and back to indicate the other team. How many people were on the Arbon team if they had enough to actually play a full game against each other?
“It’s the first and second division,” Mattie said, dropping into the chair next to me. “That’s why there’re so many players on the field.”
I blinked at her. “How the hell did you know I was thinking that?”
She smirked. “You were counting them; I could see your lips moving.”
