Elena didn’t dare look back after saying goodbye to her mother. Her thoughts churned, heart still hammering from the sight of Sebastian—and the realization that he was the Duke’s son. How? she wondered, bewildered.  

At the bookstore, Professor Frowde would often argue with students who were vocal about their dissatisfaction with the Duke and his policies. And Sebastian? He’d always been there too, sitting silently on the second floor, his eyes skimming the pages of whatever book he was engrossed in. 

She remembered his quiet, almost detached demeanor, as if the criticisms meant nothing to him. How could he stay so indifferent when people spoke of his own father?  

Had it been a façade? Or did he simply not care?  

The unease within her deepened. And now, here they were at Ashwood Academy—the Duke’s son and the girl from Valtara. She was supposed to blend in, stay unnoticed like her mother had insisted. But how could she possibly do that when the first familiar face she encountered was someone like him?  

Following the flow of students, Elena made her way through the halls of Ashwood Academy, greeted by the staff who lined the corridors, ushering everyone inside. She watched as many students seemed familiar with each other, exchanging effortless smiles and casual conversations. Slowly, the creeping tendrils of imposter syndrome began to take hold. She became hyper-aware of how different she looked—how different she was.  

Elena’s long, curly black hair cascaded down her back like a wild waterfall, resisting her mother’s countless efforts to tame it. Catherine’s hair, equally dark, had become sleek and elegant over years of refinement. But Elena—stubborn as always—loved the wild beauty of her curls. Now, walking in a sea of sleek, straight, refined hairstyles, her untamed locks stood out like a beacon.  

Every glance at her reflection in the polished mirrored glass panes reminded her that, despite her best efforts, blending in was impossible.  

Her mother had warned her not to stand out, but standing out seemed inevitable. Elena clenched her jaw. Not only because of her appearance but also because of Sebastian—the one person she recognized in this vast, intimidating academy. The duke’s son. Would he acknowledge her when their paths crossed? And if he didn’t, would ignoring him somehow be worse? She would still be working part-time at Frowde’s Fine Books—would their paths cross there too?  

"You’re making my life hard, Mother," Elena murmured to herself, following the signs leading to the assembly hall.  

Ahead, Elena noticed a girl watching her, eyes lingering for a second too long. There was something in her gaze—curiosity, maybe suspicion—that sent a prickle down Elena’s spine. She quickly averted her eyes, but the unease remained. What if everyone here could see that she didn’t belong?  

Elena entered the hall, already brimming with students who had taken their assigned seats, with more still filtering in. The grandeur of the assembly hall left her breathless; she had never been in a room so magnificent. As her eyes scanned the unfamiliar faces, a wave of uncertainty washed over her. How will the next four years unfold? she wondered.  

When it was her turn to register, Elena squared her shoulders and approached the desk, her curls bouncing with each step. Despite the nervous energy coursing through her, she tried to appear composed. The registrar, a stern-looking woman with a tight bun, raised an eyebrow as she took in Elena’s appearance.  

“Name, please?” she asked, her tone crisp, eyes already judging.  

“Elena Rose Sinclair,” Elena replied, her voice clear and confident, though a storm of doubts churned beneath her composed exterior.  

The registrar’s eyes flicked down to the list, her expression shifting ever so slightly as recognition dawned. A hint of knowing. "Ah, Viscount Sinclair's daughter. Welcome to the Academy, Miss Sinclair."  

Elena fought the urge to shrink. That look again. The one that echoed her family’s fall from grace. She knew their circumstances weren’t something to be ashamed of—it had been an unfortunate turn of fate. Her father, once reputable and admired, had taken a single wrong step, a bad investment that changed everything.  

But she was here—because of her grandparents' faith in her, because she wanted to make a difference. Her family's expectations loomed over her, but she stood firm and resolute. She had a goal now. As their only daughter, she would help her family.  

Elena browsed the course catalog as she made her way to her designated seat, her nerves settling with each step. The pamphlet listed general classes and a range of electives students could choose from.  

The electives immediately drew Elena in. Foreign and Ancient Languages, Philosophy and Ethics, Creative Writing and Poetry—all of them sparked her curiosity. In contrast, the physical courses like Fencing, Sword Fighting, Archery, and Horse Care held little interest for her. As for the female-focused classes—Needlework and Embroidery, Music and Singing, Domestic Economy—she found them outdated and let out a soft scoff.   

Before she could dwell too much on her options, the clock chimed at 9 a.m. The staff moved swiftly to close the grand doors of the assembly hall. A hush fell over the room as the headmaster and professors took their places on stage.  

"Welcome, everyone, to the new term at Ashwood Academy. For those who may not know, I am your Headmaster, Igor Everett," his voice rang out, commanding attention.  

This was followed by a speech from the top fourth-year student, Lenon Everett, the headmaster’s grandson. His words were formal, rehearsed, yet they seemed to excite the crowd.  

When all the introductions concluded, the upper years were dismissed, leaving only the incoming first-years in the hall. Their morning itinerary included a tour of the academy, an overview of their class options, and an icebreaker session to help them get acquainted.  

Elena’s heart fluttered. Despite her mother's insistence on blending in, it was hard to imagine going unnoticed here. 

As they prepared for the tour, students already familiar with one another had clustered into tight-knit groups, their excited chatter filling the air.  

 “You’re not from Ashwood, are you?” A voice from behind interrupted Elena’s thoughts. She turned to face the speaker. “I’m not. Is it that obvious?” she replied with a small smile, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.  

 “I’m Lucas, and this is my twin sister, Lorianne.” He smiled warmly, extending his hand.   

 “Elena. It’s nice to meet you both,” she said, shaking his hand.  

 “We just moved to Ashwood too,” Lorianne added softly, her voice gentle and hesitant.  

 “My sister is a bit shy,” Lucas explained with a playful tone. “She hasn’t had much luck making friends with the other girls. Would you mind looking after her, Lady Elena? Just until the boys’ and girls’ tours meet up again.”  

 “Of course,” Elena replied without hesitation. They were the first to approach her, and there was a genuine kindness in their manner. Though she was still nervous, Lorianne’s visible anxiety stirred her empathy.  

 “Shall we?” Elena motioned to Lorianne with a reassuring smile as they followed the group, setting off on their tour. 

Sebastian returned to his third year at Ashwood Academy with a familiar sense of mounting expectations. It seemed like every face he passed in the halls was eager to greet him, each nod or wave a reminder of the responsibilities that came with his title. Spring break had been an exhausting cycle of events and meetings, the unrelenting demands of his noble lineage. 

Yet, among the sea of new students, one face disrupted his carefully curated world—Elena. She had crossed over from Frowde’s Fine Books into Ashwood Academy, another part of his life. 

It wasn’t hard to notice her. Black hair wasn’t uncommon, but something about Elena’s was striking. Her skin, still kissed by the coastal sun, stood out against the pale complexions of the noble ladies from the capital. She carried an air that set her apart—freedom, perhaps, or rebellion. 

Sebastian couldn’t help but wonder how she would navigate life at Ashwood, especially after watching her in the bookstore. There, everything about her seemed to defy the norms he was so accustomed to. Yet, for all her independence, she had moments of quiet introspection, losing herself in a book or listening intently to the political discussions at Frowde’s. 

Even when she thought she was watching him unnoticed, he saw it—the way her brows furrowed in curiosity, as if trying to unravel him. It intrigued him, that subtle focus, and made him wonder how much of her defiance was by design—or just another mask, like his own. 

By the time the morning period was over, Sebastian had already settled back into his usual routine at the academy. The lunch period in the dining hall felt like a dress rehearsal for a noble banquet—students arranged by cliques, their conversations a delicate dance of classism and connections. Though Sebastian stood at the top of the hierarchy, he was grateful for the hesitation many felt in approaching him, despite their ambitions. 

While Sebastian was cordial with most, his closest companion was Benjamin, his childhood friend and Rebecca’s cousin. The two had been inseparable for years, and the new term promised no change in that. 

Across the dining hall, Elena sat with Lorianne, Lucas, and a few other students Lucas had befriended.  The dining hall was a world unto itself—a sprawling, vaulted room with chandeliers glittering above and long, polished mahogany tables lined with students. 

The high arched windows let in shafts of golden sunlight, casting an almost regal glow on the scene. The walls were adorned with tapestries depicting Ashwood's history, and portraits of past headmasters loomed overhead like silent observers. 

It was more elegant than any restaurant she had ever been to, and the carefully curated dishes, prepared by professional chefs, only reinforced the grandeur of the academy.  

As Sebastian and Benjamin entered the room, a ripple of attention followed them, like a shift in the air. Sebastian moved with the grace of someone accustomed to being watched, yet he was detached from the posturing and games that came with his status. 

Elena’s heart quickened. Would he notice her? Acknowledge her? 

Their eyes met—briefly, but unmistakably. Sebastian, ever polite, offered a nearly imperceptible nod in her direction before continuing on his way. 

Across the room, Rebecca’s sharp gaze followed Sebastian. She hadn’t missed the gesture, but her view had been obscured. Who had Sebastian just acknowledged? Her brow furrowed as she scanned the room for an answer. 

Elena, feeling her face flush, quickly excused herself and headed to the bathroom. Get a grip, she scolded herself. Blushing over a faint nod? Really? She splashed cool water on her face, trying to steady her nerves. You need to avoid him. 

As she exited the bathroom, her path was suddenly blocked. Startled, she looked up—and there was Sebastian, closer than she had expected. 

Leaning in, his breath warm against her ear, he whispered, “Welcome to Ashwood Academy, Lady Elena.” His raspy voice was soft, but clear as it sent a shiver down her spine. 

Before she could respond, he turned swiftly and walked away, leaving Elena standing there, stunned. Sebastian, too, felt the shift within him as he walked down the empty corridor. His chest tightened, a conflict growing inside him. Why had he followed her? What was it about Elena that stirred this unfamiliar unease?  

He’d spent years perfecting the art of indifference, letting the weight of expectations roll off his shoulders. But Elena... she unsettled that balance. Her presence stirred something unfamiliar in him—a mix of curiosity and discomfort. She was freedom wrapped in uncertainty, and he didn’t know if he could afford to be drawn to her—she was a mystery he couldn’t quite shake. 

This year might be different, he thought. Will I be able to handle this?