Page 19 of Godless Saints

Thorn didn’t.

Cillian’s chair scraped back. He started to rise; eyes locked on Kaelan.

Aleksei’s hand closed over his shoulder. Hard. “Sit.”

Cillian didn’t look at him. For one brutal second, I thought he wouldn’t listen. Then he sat.

Kaelan’s grin widened, glowing with pure glee. “Good boy.”

My stomach knotted hard enough to bruise. No. Not here. Not in front of the entire fucking academy. One public reaction from Cillian and every Favor number on that board becomes my problem.

“I have practice,” I said. “Need to go.”

“Hyun. Are you okay?” Vivienne caught my wrist.

“Don’t listen to him,” she added quietly, eyes sharp toward Kaelan. “He’s a bully who gets off on attention.”

I forced a tired breath. “You sure you can’t just pretend to be my girlfriend? Like at Harvard.”

She smiled. “My dear Hyun, that would break Mr. Ashbourne’s heart.”

I gave her a deadpan look. “Oh. You’re funny. Bye.”

She didn’t let go. Yanked my arm instead and pressed a cold apple into my palm along with a protein shake. “At least eat something before practice. Actually eat it.”

I nodded once. Took the first bite of the apple as I turned away. Crisp and sweet. It tasted like nothing.

“Oh, and Hyun,” she added, softer. “Tell Yuna I got her those shoes she’d been talking about. I had them shipped this morning. They should arrive soon.”

“I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.”

“Tell her when she FaceTimes you.”

Cillian’s stare drilled into my back the entire way out.

I didn’t look back.

Maybe tomorrow people would move on.

***

The afternoon light slanted low across the courtyard, catching on the black-and-ivory Aster star carved above every arch. Students passed in little groups, discussing professors, lunch reservations, and which heir had already slipped. Like me. I needed a plan.

“Hyun?”

Zara stood beneath the nearest colonnade. Dark curls pinned back tight, cool brown eyes, cream silk blouse tucked into trousers that cost more than most people’s tuition. She held her tablet like a briefing memo, senator’s daughter through and through.

“Zara,” I said, surprised into honesty. “I had no idea you were at Evermourne.”

She smiled. “Likewise, Hyun.”

We hadn’t been close in the NYC private school circuit, more like two satellites orbiting the same galaxy of galas, donor dinners, and carefully curated scandals. But we understood the game. Her father’s Senate seat, my family’s House of Moon expectations. Optics were currency.

She glanced at the fencing bag cutting into my shoulder. “So you’re still fencing. I need to come watch one of your matches sometime.”

“You should.”

“And how’s Yuna? Still terrorizing everyone in that adorable way?”