“The House assignments shall now commence!” Headmistress Leveau’s voice cuts through the Assembly Hall like a ceremonial blade. “These ancient allegiances will determine your fate in the Court Games—a spectacle that has crowned champions and destroyed reputations for three centuries!”
I stand rigid among the assembly, my cursed uniform biting into my flesh. Around me, perfect girls in silk and pearls whisper behind jeweled fans, their excitement palpable as electricity.
“Lady Evangeline Fairfax… House Seraphim!”
Applause ripples through the hall. The golden-haired beauty glides forward with swan-like grace.
“Lord Pemberton… House Drakon!”
More applause. More perfection parading past me.
My heart hammers against my ribs. Please, not Veriton. Anywhere but—
“Lady Helena of Noreldane…”
The hall falls silent. Every eye turns to me like daggers finding their mark.
“House Veriton.”
The silence explodes into barely contained snickers. I hear someone whisper “The lion’s den” followed by cruel laughter.
House Veriton. The House of princes and dukes’ daughters. The House ruled by Prince Henry himself.
“No,” I breathe, but my legs betray me, carrying me toward the gilded lions that mark Veriton’s section.
“Well, well,” Prince Henry’s voice rises above the crowd as I approach. He stands with predatory grace, his uniform perfect despite the casual way he wears it. “What delightful creature has wandered into our pride?”
Calla appears beside him like a golden serpent, her smile sharp as winter frost. “How… unexpected. I do hope she doesn’t break anything valuable.”
“Fear not,” Henry declares, his voice carrying to every corner of the hall. “We shall find suitable… accommodations for our new mascot.”
The assembled students roar with laughter. I feel heat flooding my cheeks, but I force myself to meet his gaze directly.
“Your Highness,” I say, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands. “I am honored to serve House Veriton.”
“Serve?” His eyebrows arch with theatrical surprise. “Oh, sweet Helena. You misunderstand your role entirely.”
He sweeps into an elaborate bow, his movements fluid as a dancer’s. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I present Lady Helena—House Veriton’s court jester!”
The hall erupts. Laughter crashes over me like a physical force. I see Mirelle standing with the other Veriton girls, her perfect face carefully blank. She doesn’t defend me. Doesn’t even look at me.
“Shall we fit her with bells?” Calla suggests with vicious sweetness. “Every proper jester needs bells.”
“Capital idea,” Henry agrees, straightening with feline grace. “Though perhaps we should wait until she’s properly… trained.”
The procession to Veriton House feels like a funeral march. I trail behind the others through corridors lined with gold leaf and crimson banners. Every surface gleams with polished perfection, every detail screams of wealth and power I will never possess.
The common room takes my breath away—crystal chandeliers casting rainbow patterns across mahogany walls, velvet furniture arranged like a royal court, and portraits of past Veriton champions glaring down from gilded frames.
Henry positions himself before the massive fireplace like a king holding court. “Now then,” he announces, his voice carrying easily through the opulent space. “Let us discuss our new… addition.”
Every pair of eyes fixes on me. I feel stripped bare, examined like a specimen under glass.
“Clearly,” Calla interjects, settling into a chair with liquid grace, “we must find appropriate duties for our mascot. Something suited to her… particular talents.”
“What talents might those be?” asks a boy with sharp cheekbones and cruel eyes.
“Taking up space,” another suggests to a chorus of snickers.
“Providing comic relief,” adds a third.
I clench my fists, nails digging into my palms. “Maybe I’m not just here to stand around and look clueless,” I mutter. “Unless that’s the only thing you guys respect—loud voices and cheap shots.”
The room quiets. Henry raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Wow,” he says, stepping closer. “She talks back.”
“I’m not trying to impress you,” I shoot back. “I just don’t plan on getting sidelined.”
He tilts his head like he’s genuinely trying to figure me out. “You don’t even know what’s coming.”
“No,” I say. “But I can tell it matters. And I’m not sitting it out.”
There’s a beat of silence. He looks at me like I’m a test someone just dared him to take.
“Fine,” he says. “Show up tomorrow. Let’s see if you can keep up.”
My assigned quarters lie in the servants’ wing—a cramped cell with a narrow bed and a single, cracked mirror. The other Veriton students enjoy suites in the main tower, but I am tucked away like a shameful secret.
I sink onto the thin mattress, my uniform finally released from its torturous grip. Through the thin walls, I hear laughter and conversation from the main dormitories. The sound of belonging I will never know.
A sharp knock interrupts my misery. “Enter,” I call, expecting a servant.
Instead, Mirelle glides through the door like a vision in silk and pearls. She surveys my humble accommodations with barely concealed distaste.
“How… quaint,” she murmurs, her voice dripping false sympathy.
“Have you come to gloat?” I ask, too exhausted for pretense.
“I’ve come to offer advice.” She settles into the room’s single chair like a queen upon her throne. “Withdraw from the Games.”
“What?”
“Feign illness. Claim family emergency. Anything.” Her perfect features remain composed, but I catch something desperate in her eyes. “You cannot win, Helena. You can only be destroyed.”
“And why would you care?” The words taste bitter. “You’ve made your allegiance clear.”
“Because…” She hesitates, her composure cracking slightly. “Because watching them destroy you would be… unpleasant.”
“How considerate,” I reply coldly. “But I shall not withdraw. If I am to be destroyed, let it be in glorious battle rather than cowardly retreat.”
Mirelle rises with fluid grace, her hand resting on the door handle. “Then you are a fool, Helena. And fools in this place do not survive long.”
The door closes behind her with soft finality, leaving me alone with my defiance and my fear.
But as I prepare for sleep, I remember the look in Henry’s eyes when I challenged him. Not just cruelty—something sharper. Something that might have been… interest?
***