Isla's POV
The stage lights dimmed as the announcement ended, but the buzz in the room didn't die down. Claps faded into whispers, smiles stretched too wide, and some students were already plotting their next move behind glossy masks of charm.
I stepped down from the stage with Arthur at my side, though neither of us said a word. Our handshake had been cold, controlled—like pressing blades together to see which would flinch first. We both knew how this looked. We both knew what this meant.
We'd been paired.
Of all the people in St. Arthelios… me and him.
I could still feel the weight of the gazes. Curious. Envious. Some amused. Others scared. The Queen of Daggers now paired with the Gray heir for the Crimson Masquerade—underground, elite, deadly. Great.
I adjusted my coat and scanned the crowd, but something made me pause. There, in the middle row—an empty chair. One that hadn't been empty a few minutes ago.
I narrowed my eyes.
Weird.
"Planning to kill me already?" Arthur's voice slid in, quiet and unimpressed as always.
"Don't flatter yourself," I muttered without looking at him.
He didn't answer. Didn't need to. We both knew this wasn't over.
As students slowly exited, the girls' dorm group gathered by the doors, some glancing my way with masked expressions. I caught Sophia at the center, surrounded by her usual pretty entourage, her jaw tight behind a bright smile.
Fake. Way too fake.
Then she caught my eye—and smiled. Not politely. Not sweetly.
Calculated.
I could read it like a blade's edge: She wasn't done with me yet.
"Hey Isla," one of the girls called out, too loud. "Sophia's throwing a private welcome party tomorrow night—for the seniors. Kind of her signature thing."
I raised a brow.
"Oh?" I asked, voice flat.
Sophia beamed like a queen. "Of course. New traditions deserve to start with class." Her eyes flicked to Arthur, then back to me. "You and I should celebrate properly… partner."
Partner.
I gave her a tight smile. "Sure. Let's make it unforgettable."
Because now I knew—she was planning something. Something dressed in glitter but laced with poison.
And I'd be ready.
By the time I reached my dorm room, the hallway was quiet again—only the faint hum of voices and heels clicking away in the distance.
My hand hovered on the door handle for a second longer than necessary. I wasn't tired, just… done. With the clapping. With the stares. With the twisted matchmaking disguised as school tradition.
I pushed the door open.
There she was—sprawled on the edge of her bed like she owned the room. Legs crossed, a red lollipop in her mouth, and a mischievous glint in her eye that screamed trouble first, questions later.
Cherry.
Or, well… Alice. But only I called her that.
"Took you long enough," she said, voice playful, dragging the lollipop from her lips with a slow pop. "So… you and tall, dark, and dagger-wounded?"
I closed the door behind me and dropped my bag on my desk.
"I'm not in the mood," I muttered, pulling off my blazer and tossing it onto the chair.
"That bad, huh?" she teased, eyes following me like a cat watching a tired bird.
I didn't answer. Just kicked off my shoes and dropped onto the bed.
She sat up straighter, tucking one leg under the other. "C'mon, Queen of Daggers. You got paired with the Gray prince for the most exclusive event of the year. That's a whole mafia fairytale. Or nightmare. Depends who's writing it."
I turned to glare at her. "If it's a fairytale, then I hope I get to be the villain."
Alice grinned, unbothered. "You'd be a hot one."
I let out a breath. Not quite a laugh—but not cold either.
"You heard about the welcome party?" I asked, eyes on the ceiling now.
"Oh yeah," she said, lying back with a dramatic sigh. "Sophia's plotting. That girl's got too much perfume and not enough subtlety. Think she'll try to poison you with glitter and bad champagne?"
"Something like that."
A pause.
Then Alice's voice, low and serious, cut through the silence:
"You want me to keep an eye out?"
I turned to her. "I thought you already were."
Her smile was soft this time. "Always."