About six pairs of eyes were fixed on me. Some confused, some apprehensive.

I gave them a small, reassuring smile — the sort you give a nervous animal — but it only seemed to make them stare harder. Naturally, I gave up. I’ve never understood why so many people are frightened of me. Beau once told me, without any prompting, that it’s “something to do with your aura, chérie,” before disappearing on his so-called ‘vacation.’

Giselle arrived with two staff members balancing trays of tea and delicate cakes. She clapped her hands for them to set everything on the glass round table in front of the House Presidents and their Vices, who were arranged on the sofas circling the marble fireplace.

I took the chair opposite them and watched as they hesitantly reached for the tea being poured into bone china cups. Charlotte, of course, helped herself without waiting — slicing a neat portion of cake, pouring tea from a spare pot, adding milk and sugar in precise measure. It was a gesture that screamed Windsor, a nod to her aunt, the Queen Consort.

Giselle turned to me with a smile as bright as spring. I nodded in approval while Cassia blew her a quick kiss.

Giselle was still a junior, barely a year in House Valmont and ERIA. Her father — depending on which magazine you read — was either the richest man in Switzerland or tied for first. She was often ill, but her enthusiasm was almost infectious. Cassia had taken her under her wing, confident she’d one day lead the House herself. I wasn’t sure if I should be concerned about a mini Cassia in the making… but then again, Giselle reminded me of myself: that same quiet authority, that same way of making people obey with just a glance. You can’t teach that; you’re born with it. She only needed time to hone it.

“Merci, Giselle,” Lucien said from where he was sprawled across the sofa, Alessandro beside him. The trois mousquetaires — as Cass called them — had a way of making themselves comfortable no matter the formality of the occasion. Even without Beau, Lucien and Alessandro managed to radiate the exact air of spoiled, untouchable princes, pastries in hand.

I sighed. The point of this meeting was to welcome the other Presidents, to make them feel our cooperation was genuine. Thanks to those two, we were veering dangerously close to looking like elitist snobs.

“I’ll be in the next room if you need me,” Giselle announced, heading for the side door to the common room.

I scanned the group. They seemed… relaxed. Or at least, performing it convincingly. I was just about to begin when Alessandro cut in.

“Perché non cominciamo con le presentazioni?” he said smoothly. Why don’t we start with introductions?

I gave him a glare sharp enough to slice cake, but he only widened his eyes in mock innocence.

“We do need to know the names of the people we’ll be working with,” he added, his tone doing an excellent job of implying that their importance was questionable at best.

We’d been meeting with these same people for almost a year. I’d known their names and family histories before we’d ever shaken hands — knowledge is power. Alessandro clearly didn’t share that philosophy. Or perhaps he was just pretending not to.

Cassia tapped her tablet, the sound crisp in the hush. “Well, I suppose you’d better start introducing yourselves,” she told them, her tone warm but edged.

I recognised the tactic. Cass liked to know everyone worth knowing, so this was just her way of asserting dominance. It didn’t occur to me until later that Alessandro might have been doing the same — but in his own careless, needling way.

Charlotte scowled faintly. For her, being asked to introduce herself to this room was nothing short of offensive.

To ease the tension, I said, “I am Seraphine de La Croix, House President of Valmont and the school’s representative.”

I turned to Charlotte, who gave me a pout. I raised an eyebrow, and she rearranged her face into the cool, distant expression she wore like armour.

“I am Cassia Wexler, House Valmont’s Secretary and Publicist,” Cassia said.

Alessandro followed, still lounging like a panther in the sun. “Il Vicepresidente,” he drawled. “Second in command to our principessa.” Cassia’s jaw tightened — she was my unofficial second, though Alessandro held the title. Most of the time, he was the most useless Vice President imaginable… except for the rare moments when his advice was worth gold.

Lucien’s turn came, and he gave a lazy, “Lucien Moreau, à votre service,” with the kind of smile that promised nothing and hinted at everything.

The others introduced themselves: Charlotte and Yumi for House Kingsley; David and Ariane for House Prescott; Noelle and Rafael for House Sorel.

Cassia resumed smoothly. “After careful consideration, we’ve decided that for efficiency and success in the upcoming interschool competition, it would be best for all Houses to reside here in Valmont for its duration. As you’ve all honoured the invitation, I’ll take that as agreement.” She left no space for objections.

Even if there had been any, no one voiced them.

A few taps later, Giselle reappeared with two friends.

“Giselle and her friends will show you to your rooms,” I said, standing. Cass rose with me, already opening her tablet to finalise invitations for the other schools.

“The boys’ and girls’ quarters are divided by this corridor,” Giselle explained brightly. “Right for the ladies, left for the gentlemen. I’ll take the ladies and give them a tour. Lucien, tu peux t’occuper des messieurs.”

Lucien groaned. “Je suis trop bien installé…” I’m too comfortable.

“You could have assigned someone else,” Giselle said primly, “the way Cassia assigned me.”

I hid a smile as Lucien reluctantly unfolded himself from the sofa. Alessandro chuckled… until Giselle turned her gaze on him. The laugh died instantly.

Within seconds, Lucien was leading David and Rafael toward the corridor, Alessandro sitting up like a schoolboy caught out.

Cass was right — Giselle had potential.