Chapter 33

For someone like Q, who'd grown up surrounded by dirt floors and the faint, earthy smell of hay, RAPS was nothing short of a fairytale. Everything about it felt like luxury wrapped in layers of polish and sparkle. The walls weren't just walls—they were made of stone so smooth and clean you could probably eat off them, though she doubted anyone here would. The windows were enormous, stretching tall and wide with panes so clear they seemed invisible, letting in light that danced on the polished floors. Even the chairs, sturdy and upholstered in plush fabrics, felt like they belonged in some royal dining hall instead of a school.