Snakes, Schemers, and Surprisingly Pretty Boys

Arctha exhaled sharply, shaking off the unease curling in her stomach. Okay, maybe the dramatic evil laugh had been a bit much. But hey, if they were going to slap her with the "obviously nefarious" house, she might as well own it.

The hall slowly returned to its usual hum of chatter, though a few students still cast wary glances her way. Cassian, sitting nearby, stifled a grin. "You really just went for it, huh?"

She huffed, dropping onto the bench beside him. "When life hands you snakes, you make snake-ade."

Cassian blinked. "That is not a thing people say."

"It is now."

Before he could argue, Eldrin clapped his hands for attention. "Now that you've been sorted, you'll be introduced to your house mentors. Follow your banners to your respective wings."

Students split off into their designated groups. Some took their time, chatting with newfound housemates, while others—particularly the Valorcrest bunch—marched off like they were heading into battle.

Arctha, however, had her own problem.

Viperthorn.

The house for the cunning, the ambitious, and—if the rumors were to be believed—the problem children.

Not exactly inaccurate.

She trailed after the Viperthorn banner, hands in her pockets, watching as the halls darkened. Flickering lanterns threw jagged shadows across the stone walls, and hushed voices wove through the air as students fell into little clusters of alliances and rivalries.

At the front, a tall, sharp-featured woman stood waiting. Her dark green robes were crisp, her golden eyes assessing.

"Welcome to Viperthorn," she said, her voice smooth as silk, firm as iron. "I am Professor Variel, your mentor for the year."

Arctha straightened instinctively.

Variel's gaze swept over them, pausing just a fraction longer on Arctha before moving on.

"As Viperthorn students, you will be expected to uphold the values of our house—strategy, discretion, and, above all, survival. We do not deal in brute force or blind loyalty. We deal in results. Your skills, strengths, weaknesses—it is your responsibility to refine them into weapons. Because in this world…" She smiled thinly. "Only the prepared thrive."

A ripple of anticipation passed through the group. Some students stood taller, eager to prove themselves. Others, like Arctha, kept their expressions carefully neutral.

"Now," Variel continued, pivoting sharply. "Follow me."

As they moved deeper into Viperthorn's domain, Arctha felt someone fall into step beside her. Cassian had somehow maneuvered through the crowd, hands tucked into his coat pockets.

"Guess we're stuck in the snake pit together," he muttered, smirking slightly.

Arctha raised an eyebrow. "Oh, please. You're way too wholesome to be here. Did you bribe someone?"

"Maybe they thought I needed corrupting."

She snorted. "Well, lucky for you, I have no idea how to be a proper villain, so you're on your own."

Cassian chuckled but said nothing, his gaze flickering toward the front.

As they descended deeper, Arctha's fingers twitched at her sides. Her gauntlet was silent for now, but she could feel it—a faint static charge under her skin, as if the magic woven into it was… waiting.

For what, she wasn't sure.

But she had a feeling she'd find out soon enough.

She glanced at her schedule, frowning. Princess etiquette classes? Formal training? Was Eldrin messing with her? Or had the author just made a mistake?

"Ah, and for those of you wondering about your schedules," Variel added dryly, "princess lessons have been moved to Saturdays. On the other days, you'll be learning magic—like today."

"And in a month, you'll take the trials."

At that, Arctha scanned the room, wondering who else was stuck with her. Her gaze landed on Lucian Frostveil.

Stick with Cassian, the pretty boy with no future? Or go with someone who actually looked like they had one?

The decision was practically made for her—until she saw who Lucian was hanging out with.

Her stomach twisted.

Grunt McSwampington.

What the hell is he doing with that kid?

And then, in the corner, another one—Broody McFurface, surrounded by guys who looked like they spent more time flexing than thinking.

No beauty in this beast, she thought dryly.

Still, she forced a fake smile and waved. Hey, himbo.

He waved back, completely oblivious.

Well. First things first—distance him from that guy.

Arctha turned back to Cassian. "So, Cassian, I heard you were supposed to be with the Expendable Legions?"

"Yeah," he admitted, looking down. "But they won't give me the armor until I learn to fight with a sword first."

She raised a brow. Ohhh… what happened to your brother? You know, the better one. The one who actually has everything?

Cassian sighed. "Oh, you mean Cedric? He's in this house too, but he gets special tutors."

Despite his neutral tone, Arctha heard the waver in his voice. His confidence—already fragile—was hanging by a thread.

She thought for a moment, then said, "If you must know, between the two of you… you're my favorite."

Cassian blinked. "Really?"

"You're the first person who's ever said that to me," he murmured.

"Thank you."

Arctha studied him. He was almost too pretty, too perfect.

This is the most beautiful person I've ever met, she thought. Good thing he won't be around me for too long—any longer, and I might start spoiling him. Treating him like… like some kind of princess.

Her eyes widened slightly. Oh no… I'm the princess, not you.

And that meant she needed a knight.

Her gaze drifted to Lucian.

The more she considered it, the more the idea appealed to her. If she played it right, she could inherit a kingdom without lifting a finger.

She smiled, already savoring the possibilities.

Cassian nudged her with his elbow, pulling her from her scheming. "You're doing the thing again," he said, amused.

Arctha blinked. "What thing?"

"The plotting face. The one where you look like you just discovered fire and are about to use it for something wildly inappropriate."

She huffed. "Maybe I was just thinking about my bright and promising future."

"Right. And I'm the Queen of Evermere."

"Well, Your Majesty, you might want to start working on your sword skills," she shot back. "Wouldn't want your Expendable Legions to think you're too delicate."

Cassian groaned. "You are not letting that go, are you?"

"Not a chance."