I stood there for a long time, staring at them.
I thought about my purple sundress, my pink shoes, my yellow cardigan. The way people looked at me. The empty seats in every classroom. The whispers that followed me everywhere I went.
I've never not fit in. I've always been myself—bright, friendly, optimistic—and people have always warmed up to me eventually. That's who I am. That's who I've always been.
But this wasn't like anywhere I'd ever been before. And maybe, just this once, being myself wasn't going to be enough.
I bought the charcoal blazer before I could talk myself out of it. Put it on over my yellow sundress, looked at myself in the tiny mirror by the register.
It didn't look like me.
But maybe that was the point.
Brittany actually put down her phone when I walked in that evening, which was how I knew the blazer was significant.
"Holy shit," she said. "You bought one."
"I'm trying to blend in."
"You're wearing it over a yellow sundress with pink tennis shoes. You look like a parrot trying to infiltrate a funeral."
I looked down at myself. She had a point. "Baby steps?"
Something that might have been approval flickered across her face. "Tomorrow, wear it with black jeans. And maybe consider retiring the pink shoes. At least until you stop being a target."
"I like my pink shoes."
"I know you do. That's the problem."
I sat on my bed, the blazer stiff and unfamiliar around my shoulders. It felt like wearing someone else's skin. "Tell me more about the presidents. What happens if one of them decides you're a problem?"
Brittany was quiet for a moment, her expression shifting into something more serious. "It depends on which one. Callum won't touch you himself—he'll just make sure your life falls apart piece by piece until you leave or break. Felix will make everything go wrong in ways you can never trace back to him—accidents, bad luck, opportunities that vanish at the last second. Ren..." She paused. "If Ren wants to hurt you, he does it through the people you love. Blood magic is about connection. He'll find the bonds that matter to you and twist them until you wish you'd never cared about anything."
"And Atlas?"
"Atlas doesn't do subtle. Storm magic is direct—overwhelming force, public humiliation, making an example out of you so everyone else knows what happens when you step out of line." She met my eyes. "That scar I showed you? The lightning strike happened at noon on a Tuesday. Maximum witnesses. Atlas wanted everyone to see."
I thought about that. About power wielded openly, without shame. About a school where the strongest students could hurt whoever they wanted and call it discipline.
"Has anyone ever fought back?"
Brittany laughed, short and humorless. "Against the four most powerful students on campus? Students whose families have been running this place for generations?" She shook her head. "No one's that stupid."
"What if someone was?"
She studied me for a long moment, her pale eyes sharp. "Then they'd better be powerful enough to back it up. Or fast enough to run."
I didn't say anything. Just sat there in my new blazer, thinking about wolves and deer and what I would do if one of those four decided I was worth their attention.
I didn't have to wait long to find out.
Day two ended with Felix Ferrix sliding into the seat next to me at dinner.
I'd been eating alone—Brittany had a Sanguis study group, and no one else seemed interested in sharing a table with the new girl, blazer or no blazer. So when a tray clattered down beside meand I looked up to see the Tumult president's easy grin, I nearly choked on my pasta.
"You're Everly, right?" His voice was warm, friendly—the kind of voice that made you want to trust him. "The new transfer?"
"That's me."
