At the sound of my mother’s voice, I dropped my blade instantly—but my attacker didn’t. His arm came down in a wicked fast arc, but I was faster by a hair. I managed to step back in time and then he finally noticed my irate mother barreling down on us.

I stepped to the side, ready to get out of the way in case the brute tried to attack her too and got obliterated, but to my surprise, the aggression cleared from his face.

“Mistress Fortunata, apologies. I didn’t realize you were there,” he said with the barest tilt of his head to acknowledge her.

How dare he? I thought, shocked at the lack of respect. My mother was the kingdom’s foremost sorceress and she did not take kindly to people forgetting that.

But my mother actually bowed her head, her eyes lowered demurely to the floor. I stared back and forth between them in shock. Why would she display any deference to this random—

I hissed in pain as her sharp nails pinched my arm. “Liliana,” she hissed in warning, flicking her gaze to the stranger. She wanted me to bow to this bastard too? I looked back at his expectant smile—and didn’t. I didn’t like bowing to anyone, least of all arrogant assholes who would pick a fight over a sword.

My mother shot me a glare, then swept in front of me with a bright smile. “My prince, I didn’t expect to encounter you so quickly.”

My eyes went wide. Whoa. The prince? Shit. A cool smile flashed over his face, and he held out a hand for my mother to take and place his knuckles to her forehead, the ultimate sign of deference and respect.

Beads of sweat rolled down my back. I’d just fought Prince Cassius, heir to the throne.

Shaking off my shock, I hurried to copy my mother, hoping to salvage this before he ordered me beheaded or something—but when my hand touched his, a storm of tingles erupted across my skin where we touched.

My eyes shot up to his, deference forgotten. Did he feel that lightning too? But his face was an impassive mask. He didn’t wait for me to complete the gesture, just nodded to my mother and me.

“Now that we’re done here,” he said, twirling the bolo knife in his hand, “I’ll be on my way.” But instead of letting my fingers go, he jerked me closer and breathed, “Be good, little one.”

I ripped my hand from his, but before I could get a word out, he spun on his heel and left. I glared after him until my mother cleared her throat. I turned and found her glaring at me.

“That is what you do on your first day at Obsidian?” she hissed angrily. “Fight with the heir to the throne? Are you trying to disgrace me, Liliana?”

“How was I supposed to know that was him?” I shot back, forgetting myself with the adrenaline still coursing through me. “He looks nothing like the paintings in art galleries!”

Those pictures were striking, but the paint softened his face, and—now that I thought about it—they never showed the right side of his face. He was always painted at an angle. That seemed sad to me for some reason, but I pushed the unwelcome feeling away.

“It doesn’t matter,” my mother stressed. “You need to always treat every person you meet as if they were royalty. Especially since you seem unable to tell the difference.” The barb stung and I crossed my arms. She pulled them down. “You need to be open, approachable. Make each person like you, otherwise how will you get close enough to glean their secrets?”

It was a fight not to roll my eyes at that. Mother had been trying since I was a child to round out my rough edges and hone me into the perfect weapon. When it came to magic and violence, I excelled. But the political games and espionage our world demanded…my temper didn’t like that part. But this time wasn’t my fault, I wanted to protest, but I knew all she’d hear was whining.

Mother seemed to see something in my face, because her expression softened and she put her hands on my shoulders. For a heartbeat, I almost thought something soft or encouraging would come out of her mouth.

“Remember who you are, Liliana. You are my daughter. Our family is in the business of secrets, acquiring and trading them to the highest bidder,” she said firmly, giving me a small shake for emphasis. “No one wants to give secrets to a brash little girl, so you cannot act like one. Reign. It. In.”

I sighed, bowing my head. As much as I resented my mother and all these little reminders of what she expected of me…I could never defy her. I wasn’t even truly sure I wanted to. My whole life, she’d been right there to reign in my impulses. She’d always held the leash on the worst part of me, my instinct to act first and think later. Without her here to do that…

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, looking up into her disappointed eyes. “I’m just nervous, being on my own for the first time. We’ve never been apart this long.”

If I was expecting a hug or any kind of comfort, I would have been disappointed. My mother gave me the same placating smile she gave the prince and patted my head—like a dog.

“It’s alright, my dear,” she said breezily. “You simply need to do and be better.”

I swallowed the feelings swirling in my chest and just nodded. “Yes, Mother.”

Seemingly satisfied, my mother nodded and said, “You may relax your first couple of days, get the lay of the land.” As she stepped back, her eyes narrowed on the katana in my hand. She plucked it from my grip and put it back, taking my arm and leading me away from the bigger swords.

“But I—” I started, but she acted as if she didn’t hear me.

“You need to learn all you can about the people you live with. The rooms are assigned by power scale and villainous legacy—remember that,” she continued, like she hadn’t told me all of this already.

She stopped us in the dagger section to my dismay and scanned a shelf of…dainty little knives. I frowned as she picked up a sleek-looking dagger with a case in smooth gray leather. The case wasn’t even as long as my forearm.

“This will be more your speed,” she said with a satisfied smile. I tried my best not to glare at the tiny kitchen knife in my hands. I hated small weapons and I hated wearing them. It felt like an admission of weakness, but I didn’t want to spend my last hours with my mother fighting, so I just nodded and followed her around the store, picking up the rest of my supplies in whatever make and style she wanted.

***

Back at the dorms, after putting down all my shopping, I got to work lugging my things into my room. Mother sat on the bed and watched. Her biggest contribution was reminding me to lift with my knees, to not let the trunks scratch up the pristine floors, and to hurry along because the sight of me huffing and puffing was so unseemly.

I fought not to snap at her that it would go smoother with some help because I knew there was no chance she’d risk her fresh manicure. The glossy polish—blood-red, the proper color of a true sorceress and villain—was days old, and nothing sent her into a rage like chipping a fresh set.

Finally, I settled the last trunk along the wall, ready to flop down on the bed and—

“I’m going to freaking kill you!”

The voice roared from the living room, and without thinking, I ran to the sound, only faintly registering my mother calling my name. Surprise—and alarm—shot through me as I saw the prince and another man fighting.

Cassius easily towered over his opponent, cool eyes staring him down, unphased by the punch aiming for his head. The other man had a firm, wiry build and from his light stance I knew he was quick on his feet—a true match for the prince if that punch landed and they started fighting for real.

My feet were moving before my brain had decided, and I sprinted between them, shoving both men back with a gust of air magic—though they only moved an inch or two.

“What is your problem?” I demanded, glaring back and forth between them—though I was sure Cassius started it.

Without looking at me, the wiry man, blond with blue ice chips for eyes, snarled, “Princey here thinks all food is here for him to use at his disposal. I’ll have you know, dickwad, those Pop-Tarts you’re toasting are mine! You have the wealth of a nation behind you—buy your own damn tarts!”

I gaped at him. He was attacking the prince over Pop-Tarts? I almost wanted to laugh, but Cassius’s eyes darkened with anger and the air around us seemed to thicken with tension. My brain finally seemed to realize I was standing directly between two of the most powerful men at the academy—and regretted it.

Will he make a move, even if it means hurting me?