Page 30 of The Prince of Broken Crowns

As we sink into silence, I note a girl at the bottom of the aisle staring at me. She has long, blonde hair in braids, her makeup is minimal but flawless, and her fitted green sweater and wide, pin-striped pants look fashionable. Her gaze slides between me and River, and her brows furrow.

“Um, so I hate to break up your little solo brooding moment, but who is that girl staring at us?” I give a subtle nod in her direction.

He tracks the nod, and his frown deepens as he hastily looks away. “That’s Isla.”

“Oh, the betrothed.” The words slip out of my mouth before I can stop them. “Shit, sorry. That was probably insensitive.”

His gaze shifts to me. “Lily told you?”

I tap my pen against the desk. “Only because I was asking her all these questions about why everyone was staring at me during orientation. I thought it was because I was from northside—and honestly, I’m still convinced that’s part of it—but then she told me about the”—I gesture at the front of the classroom where Isla is—“well, you know.” I feel awful, considering the moroseness that’s consumed his features. “Sorry for bringing it up. I like to do this thing sometimes where I put my foot in my mouth. It’s a real friend magnet, let me tell you.”

His eyes scroll over me. “You’re not that bad.”

“Only somewhat bad,” I quip, to which he responds with an attempt at stifling a smile. I fiddle with the cap on my pen, sliding it off and on. “So, I have a subject change I’m going to offer right now to slide on right by this.” I set the pen down to stop my fidgeting. I’m not even positive why I’m doing it. Okay, that’s a lie. I know exactly why—because I’m about to ask for a favor.

He absentmindedly rotates a ring on his finger. “Okay, what is it?”

“It’s a favor,” I start then hastily tact on, “And you can totally say no. Your sister suggested that I ask you—or, well, she said I could ask you, Finn, or Noah, because you’re all on sports teams.” And … I’m rambling. “But, anyway, I want to get onto the cross country team, and Lily said it was hard to navigate the sports world at the academy. So, if you could offer me some pointers on navigating it all, that’d be so helpful.” I give him a cheeky grin at the end of my speech, hoping that’ll entice him even more.

He blinks at me then stares like I sprouted a unicorn horn out of my ass. “You’re asking me about sports?”

“Um … yeah?” I grow a bit twitchy. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. In fact, forget I asked.”

“No, it’s not that.” He shakes his head and blinks again. “Sorry, it’s just that when someone asks for a favor, it’s usually something much bigger than me giving pointers.”

“I can actually understand that.” I chew on my bottom lip. “I mean, I’m sure you heard my convo with my mother on the phone, back when … well, you know.”

Discomfort radiates from him. “I did hear a little,” he confesses. “Finn did, too. We didn’t eavesdrop on purpose or anything like that. It’s just that?—”

“We were in a confined space,” I finish for him, whispering. “You don’t have to explain why. I know I was being an asshole back when we were in there, but I was having a shitty night.”

His eyes search mine. “Why were you in there?”

“Why were you in there?” I throw back at him. When reluctance flashes across his face, I add, “How about I show you mine when you show me yours?”

A strange look rises on his expression. My bet is his mind went to a dirty place from the words I uttered, but all he says is, “Fair enough.”

He begins rotating the ring around his finger again and fixes his attention on the front of the room as an older woman with short dark hair, wearing a striped pantsuit, enters the classroom. She marches straight up the podium, sets her briefcase down, and focuses on the room.

“Welcome to American Literature,” she begins, her firm tone jarring for such an early hour in the morning. “The first thing you should know about my class is …” Her words fade as a student hurries into the room.

“Sorry,” he mumbles as he makes a beeline for an open seat while clutching a laptop.

“Well”—the professor looks at the classroom again—“I was just about to give my rules on being tardy for my class. However, since this young man has decided to do just that, let me make an example of what will happen if you’re late.” She strolls out from behind the podium and approaches the guy. “What’s your name?”

He shifts in his desk. “Sebastian.”

“Well, Sebastian”—she stops in front of him—“let’s give the class a demonstration on why not to be tardy, shall we?”

River was right. I don’t ever want to be tardy to this class. After putting Sebastian on the spot, she proceeded to ask him all sorts of questions about American Literature, why he made the poor life choice to be late, and why he’ll never be late again. I actually experienced some secondhand embarrassment from him.

“Thanks for the heads-up on not being late to this class,” I tell River as I stuff my notebook and pen into my bag.

I have about an hour between this class and my next, and I have plans to return to my dorm room to grab my laptop and give my hand a break with the writing.

He slings his bag over his shoulder. “No problem. I gave Lily a heads-up about this before she came here. This school is …” He wavers. “Well, a lot about it sucks, but the classes are excellent. Tough, but if you’re looking for the best education, it’s worth the toughness … Sometimes, anyway.”

“It’s worth it to me; trust me. I was supposed to go to the community college,” I say as we make our way out of the aisle and toward the exit. “I had a scholarship and everything, but that lovely little incident when we first met led to that getting revoked. But I lucked out when I got one here.”

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