Arthur's POV
The door to my dorm creaked open, and for the first time all day, I expected silence.
I should've known better.
"Was the handshake firm enough, or did you two just hold hands and make a wish?"
I froze halfway through the doorway.
There he was.
Ares Gray, sitting on my windowsill like he'd never left. Boot on the edge of the frame, back against the glass, tossing an apple from hand to hand like it was some ancient weapon and he was just waiting for the war to start.
"Did they let you out of the zoo, or did you climb the gates again?" I asked flatly, closing the door behind me.
He bit into the apple. Loudly.
"Your face looked priceless on stage. I almost clapped with both hands instead of just one." His storm-grey eyes narrowed with amusement. "You've gotten stiff, Art. I liked you better when you punched mirrors."
"And I liked you better when you weren't here," I replied, tossing my jacket onto the chair.
He whistled. "Touché."
A beat passed. The air shifted.
"You weren't supposed to be back," I said finally.
Ares tilted his head. "And yet—here I am. Back, beautiful, and probably smarter than you now. What do they call that? Evolution?"
"Violation," I muttered, In correction.
He chuckled, "You're no fun these days."
I turned to face him, letting the weight of my stare say what I didn't. "What did Father send you for?"
A pause.
He caught the apple mid-air and stopped tossing it.
Didn't answer.
Just let silence stretch between us before flashing that lazy, taunting grin again.
"By the way… your partner? The one with the gold hair and dagger eyes?" He cocked his head. "She passed."
My body stiffened. "What?"
Ares winked. "Relax. Just testing reflexes. You know—school spirit."
Then he hopped off the windowsill and made for the door like he hadn't just dumped a bucket of questions in the room.
"Don't follow me," he added, not looking back. "Or do. Could be fun."
Click.
Gone.
I stared at the door a moment longer, breath locked in my chest.
Gold hair and dagger eyes.
He'd met Isla.
And I had a very, very bad feeling.
Isla's POV
Weekends at St. Arthelios were like calm before storms. No bells. No uniform checks. Just silent halls and distant echoes that made the walls feel thicker than they already were.
I slipped on a black hoodie over my tank and stepped out of the bathroom, towel still around my hair. The room smelled faintly like Alice's cherry perfume and the lingering vanilla from my shampoo.
She was sitting cross-legged on her bed, flipping through one of those ridiculous fashion mafia magazines she somehow managed to sneak past inspection.
"Good morning, Goldly," she smirked without looking up.
I rolled my eyes. "Don't call me that."
"Fine, Princess Stabby. Better?"
Still no eye contact.
Classic Cherry—loud, unbothered, and already halfway into my life like she'd never left Russia.
I sat at the edge of my bed, drying my hair with the towel. "You're unusually quiet about last night."
That made her look up. She grinned. "Oh, I'm not quiet. I'm watching you avoid talking about him."
I froze.
Arthur.
Alice raised an eyebrow. "I mean—are we not gonna talk about the forced handshakes, the stare-off, the whole mafia soap opera tension that could light a fire?"
"I'm not in the mood," I muttered.
She leaned forward. "Which means you're definitely in the mood. Spill, Goldly. I live for chaos."
I gave her a dry look. "You are chaos."
"And you love me."
Unfortunately, I did.
I turned away, reaching for my hairbrush, but the words came out before I could stop them.
"He's not what I expected."
Alice was already grinning like she'd won.
"And?" she asked, voice sing-song.
I brushed faster. "And nothing. We're planning a party. That's it."
She snorted. "Right. And I'm just here for school."
Before I could throw a pillow at her head, the sound of a notification chimed on both our phones.
All students are to gather in the courtyard by 5PM for a formal event. Attendance is mandatory.
Alice whistled. "Bet Sophia's finally ready to blow up."
I didn't say anything.
But deep down…
So was something else.