Page 10 of Crown of Thorns
“Stubborn.”
“I’m not.”
“Beautiful. With that mysterious conflict in your eyes.”
“You make everything sound like a painting.”
“Well, you’d make a fine model, that’s for sure.” She ruffles my hair, bringing my curls back into their previous state of chaos, and pulls on my arm for me to turn around. Humming an approval, she wipes off some invisible dust from my jacket. “These guys have no idea what’s coming for them.”
“You make it look like this suit doesn’t come from H&M.”
Melody tssks. “Style can’t be bought. Now, kick some ass, brother. Show them how talented you are. They should be glad to have you at Saint-Laurent.”
This job still overwhelms me. LeChevalier is a kind man, but he’s not being honest. Saint-Laurent doesn’t recruit people like me. Not really. Not in a country where reputation outweighs grades. And mine doesn’t hold much weight. I won’t tell Melo that, though. Not yet.
Seeing my baby sister again cracked something open inside me. I didn’t know how much I needed it until we stood side by side at the funeral of our mother and grandfather. Two ghosts buried, one bond quietly reborn. I’ve made a thousand mistakes. But coming back to her wasn’t one of them.
And then there is something else.
Louis Deveraux.
The mere thought of what happened at that dinner makes my face flush like a virgin. He will be a problem, of that I’m sure. Unless he has moved on and found another plaything. That's plausible. I mean, a guy like him can have anyone he wants.
Yes. My flush fades. I’m probably overreacting, but the thought lingers, heavier than I want to admit.
I shift in my seat. Focus. It’s almost time.
The ride to the castle is short and silent, the morning sun throwing long shadows over the drive. I spend most of it counting my breaths. When I arrive, a member of staff awaits me in the large reception hall and walks me to my office. Unlike when the place had been nearly empty, there are now a plethora of students. Dressed in navy-blue uniforms, much like mine but worth ten times more, they hang out before class. Their chattering goes up to the high ceilings, filling the space with life.
Too much life. Too much noise. I follow her heels without a word.
“This is the South Wing. Access to the public ends after this corridor, and since your room sits at the end, you won’t get much noise.” She swings open the door to my office.
“Oh. Wow.” My mouth drops.
She smiles knowingly. “Right? It was specially requested for you. This wing closes at eight in the evening. All personnel are requested to be gone by that time. Should you still need to finish something, you can go to the library or your dorm.”
“Thank you,” I mumble absent-mindedly while taking in the space. We used to share a cramped space at my previous employer. All those shared, sticky computers and messy desks. Not here. Here, I will have this all to myself. It’s mine.
This office is like a wet dream.
The oak desk and chair sit by a large window that has a view of the Monterrey Forest. I used to walk those woods with Granddad. Back when everything still made sense. Before I left.Before everything broke. On the wooden floors lies a thick, red carpet that looks comfortable enough to sleep on. One wall is entirely covered with an empty bookcase, which reminds me I need to bring the books I got from Paris. There’s only a handful.
I turn back with a smile, only to find myself alone in my office. Well damn. A breath catches in my throat. I run my palm over the desk’s polished surface, half in disbelief. A space of my own.
It feels almost sacred.
Sliding onto my chair, I roll it back and forth a few times, trying the drawers. Most are empty. One sticks more than the others. I tug it open and find a small silver pin tucked in the corner, shaped like a crow mid-flight. No tag. No explanation. I turn it over in my hand for a moment, then drop it back in. Probably left by the last occupant.
Still, the space is mine. A clean slate.
Knowledge is what I live for, and education is its form. It’s all I’ve ever known.
Right now, that’s all that matters.
Besides, I work at Saint-Laurent now. This is one of Europe’s most privileged colleges; its students are tomorrow’s leaders. They have been taught how to behave. It'll be easy.
I’m wrong.
