Page 47 of Academy of the Wicked, Year One

My voice comes out deep and rich, the masculine timbre settling perfectly in my throat. I can feel my magic thrumming through me, the glamour wrapping around me like a second skin.

It's flawless – more solid than ever before, powered by the pure adrenaline of confrontation coursing through my veins.

These princes are probably royal douches, but this dude sounds like a bigger douche.

Every cell in my body sings with anticipation. There's something deliciously satisfying about the way testosterone amplifies my natural inclination for chaos.

Or I could be feeling like a cocky asshole.

Lord Bartholomew whirls around, his face contorting with indignant fury. His eyes rake over my uniform, taking in every detail with suspicious intensity before his eyes lock on mine that doesn’t back down from the penalizing intent in their depths.

"Who the hell are you?” he seethes. “I don't recall seeing your name on any registry."

I offer a casual shrug, letting an easy smile play across my lips. I’m positive my assertiveness matched with my ‘don’t give a fuck’ vibe is grinding all his gears right now.

"Gabriel Hawthorne, at your service."

The name rolls off my tongue smooth as silk, a perfect blend of power and nobility that matches the confidence in my stance.

"I've only just arrived, you see. Couldn't help but seek out my dear companion the moment I got here."

My gaze shifts to Cassius, injecting years of longing into my expression.

Have no clue what the school stance is when it comes to male-to-male love, but guess I’m rolling with it.

"It feels like centuries since I've seen you with my own eyes, old friend. But duty calls, doesn't it? While you were here being the faithful Wicked Academy prodigy, I had to complete my ongoing training and face those vigorous challenges." I gesture dramatically at my chest. "All to prove myself worthy of entering these ruthless walls."

The good thing I’m realizing when it comes to Cassius is how he can maintain such an emotionless demeanor that works perfectly in situations like this.

If you can’t read him like an open book, you can’t confirm whether I’m bullshitting or not.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I strike a pose that practically drips with cocky self-assurance.

"And look, I survived without so much as a wrinkle in this rather nice uniform." My fingers brush over the impeccable fabric, appreciating its quality with genuine admiration. "Though I'm fairly certain Cassius insisted on only the finest materials for my tailored piece."

I turn to Nikolai, arching an eyebrow playfully.

"The Fae always have access to the best fabrics, yes? This feels like it was woven from pure luxury."

Nikolai's head moves in a slow nod, though he's doing a rather poor job of hiding his shock. His eyes are slightly wider than usual, and I can practically see the gears turning in his head as he tries to process my sudden appearance.

The tension in the room has shifted, morphing from oppressive to something more akin to confused anticipation. I can feel Lord Bartholomew's gaze boring into me, trying to detect any flaw in my presentation, any crack in my facade.

But there won't be any.

This is what I do best – create chaos with absolute confidence, wrapping myself in layers of audacity so thick that people forget to question the impossibility of my existence.

"My sincerest apologies for the tardiness," I continue, running a hand through my hair with calculated casualness. "The time shift between realms proved more...challenging than anticipated. Add in those delightful entry trials, and well – this prestigious institution certainly knows how to keep one humble."

I’m thankful I’d done a bit of research regarding the initial entry for solo individuals that has to be conducted first before you’ll even get a shot onto Wicked Academy soil. It doesn’t include the madness of challenges you’re going to face with your selected group upon official attendance, but I guess that wouldn’t matter in my case.

I’m just being a distraction and I’m sure the guys will let me off the hook and say they don’t need some unworthy royal individual among their prodigy group.

Then I can be on my way, back to Elena’s bedside until I can think of a counterplan to get the Chalice.

I flash a knowing smile, letting it carry just the right blend of charm and self-deprecation.

"I did stop by the office to inform them of my eventual return for proper registration. But naturally, I had to see my fellow royals first." My eyes scan the group meaningfully. "Just in case there were any pressing matters requiring my immediate attention due to my late arrival."

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