Page 4 of Godless Saints

“Gentlemen. The Patrons are watching,” she said. “Try not to rut over an Aster prince during the opening address.” Her eyes dropped pointedly to where Cillian’s thigh was still pressed hard against mine. “And certainly not over Hyun’s lap. It’s gauche.”

Sawyer sat back first.

Cillian didn’t.

Instead, he shifted forward, spreading his legs wider so his thigh locked more firmly against mine. One hand dropped casually onto my knee, fingers curling just enough to hold me there.

Vivienne turned her head. “Mr. Ashbourne.”

For a long second, he didn’t move at all. Then he finally eased back, removing his hand from my knee.

Vivienne smiled and sat back.

The next speaker stepped up to the lectern.

A woman in black ceremonial robes and an ivory mask stepped forward, the Black Chalice held tight against her chest. Smaller than I expected. Dark metal, thorned stem, rim sharp enough to cut. The stones caught the light—ivory Aster, wine-red Thorn, deep blue Vesper, gold Dahlia.

Whispers died. Old wood creaked under shifting weight. Every heir watched the cup. The Chalice was what you won at the end of the year. Four Courts spent the year competing for it. Earn the most Favor, win the Chalice.

“Welcome to Evermourne Academy.”

The nave went silent. My spine remained straight.

Favor was tallied publicly. Blood Writs weren't. That was Evermourne. Sin was allowed. Embarrassment? Punished.

“Make no mistake,” the speaker intoned. “Evermourne is not the academy you’re used to. We do not flinch at bullying, coercion, betrayal, or psychological warfare. We observe them. We record them. We report what matters to your families.”

Lesser heirs sat straighter.

“The Black Chalice begins tonight.”

A ripple moved through the hall.

“Last year’s victors… Vesper Court.”

Vesper rose to applause. Aster clapped. Dahlia clapped. Thorn barely bothered. Cillian didn’t clap. His eyes remained on me.

Sawyer shifted beside me. “Ugh,” he said. “The Lovchy twins. Who invited them?”

I followed his stare across the aisle. Two identical platinum blonds in matching black, sharp smiles already cutting toward us.

“Sawyer!”

Sawyer’s shoulders locked tight. The twin waved. Fucking waved.

“Look at you. All dressed up and pretending we don’t know each other.”

I cut my eyes to Sawyer. “You know him?”

“No.”

The twin’s grin stretched wider. “That’s fair. Plausible deniability was important.”

Sawyer’s jaw flexed. “Mikhail.”

“So, yes,” I said.

“No.”