chapter eight

The gentle sway of the carriage had lulled Selene into a light sleep, her cheek resting against the plush velvet seat. Outside, the rhythmic clatter of wheels against cobblestone played like a lullaby, steady and hypnotic until a warm touch against her thigh pulled her back to wakefulness.

"Selene."

The voice was smooth, edged with quiet amusement. Familiar.

She stirred, blinking as her vision adjusted to the soft afternoon light spilling through the carriage window. Eric sat beside her, watching with unreadable patience, the corners of his lips hinting at a smile.

"We're here." His fingers lingered just a moment too long before he withdrew them, the fleeting warmth leaving a ghost of sensation behind.

Selene straightened, stretching slightly as sleep's remnants clung to her limbs. The world outside was a grand display of prestige and power—the towering gates of Noble Academy, wrought-iron and gilded, loomed in the distance. Beyond them, the academy's sprawling campus stood bathed in golden sunlight, its architecture a seamless blend of regal opulence and timeworn tradition.

The air hummed with energy. Carriages rolled in, servants bustled about, and the mingling voices of arriving students created a soft cacophony. Somewhere in the distance, the deep toll of a bell marked the passing hour.

Eric stepped out first, the autumn breeze tousling his dark hair. Then, turning with effortless grace, he extended a hand.

Selene hesitated before taking it, his palm steady and warm as he guided her down.

Isolde was already attending to her belongings, her practiced hands moving with quiet efficiency. Nearby, Eric's personal servant mirrored her actions, unloading trunks with equal diligence.

Eric's gaze flicked to her. "Would you like me to take you around later?"

Selene shook her head, brushing stray strands of hair behind her ear. "I'd rather settle in first. Maybe another time."

His eyes lingered, searching for something unspoken. Then, with a slow nod, he relented. "Alright. But don't disappear completely."

With that, he turned, his presence dissolving into the throng of noble sons disappearing toward their quarters, their laughter and conversations carried by the crisp air.

Selene followed the academy's coordinator through the female lodgings, the registration process handled with brisk efficiency. It wasn't long before she was guided to her quarters—one of the more lavish rooms, as befitted her noble lineage.

Isolde trailed behind her, a silent shadow of comfort.

As they reached the door, Selene paused, fingers brushing the cool brass handle.

Then, with a measured breath, she pushed it open.

Sunlight cascaded through towering windows, bathing the chamber in a golden glow. A four-poster bed, its mahogany frame polished to perfection, stood at the center. A velvet chaise was positioned by the window, its deep blue fabric a striking contrast to the ivory walls. A vanity, adorned with crystal vials of perfume and delicate silver brushes, gleamed under the afternoon light. Every detail spoke of wealth, of careful curation.

But Selene's attention wasn't on the décor.

It was on the girl already inside.

Emerald-green eyes met hers—sharp, assessing. The girl sat by the vanity, auburn curls spilling over one shoulder, one leg crossed over the other in effortless poise. Her deep green gown clung to her form, a deliberate choice rather than a mere fit of fabric.

She was stunning.

And familiar.

Lady Arabella Whitmore.

Selene knew of her—the only daughter of Marquis Whitmore, a young woman whose name was whispered in both admiration and wariness. Ambitious, clever, and notoriously selective in her associations.

Arabella tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into a knowing smirk.

"So, you're my new roommate."

Selene stepped inside, allowing the door to shut behind her. "It appears so."

Arabella's gaze swept over her, calculating. Then, with a soft, melodic laugh, she leaned back. "I expected someone more… delicate. With all the rumors about you, I assumed you'd be the fragile type."

Selene arched a brow. "You shouldn't believe everything you hear."

Arabella's smirk deepened, something akin to amusement flickering in her gaze. *"I like that answer."*

Isolde quietly set down Selene's belongings, her movements fluid and unobtrusive.

But before another word could be spoken, the door swung open once more.

Selene barely had time to process the sudden shift in the air before she stepped in.

For a heartbeat, everything stilled.

Lady Evangeline Ravenshire.

The name struck like an echo from another life.

Selene had never met her in this lifetime. And yet, she knew her.

Golden curls, soft violet eyes, a beauty so delicate it felt almost otherworldly. She moved with a grace that was neither forced nor rehearsed, her pale lavender gown flowing like liquid silk as she entered the room.

There was an effortless elegance about her. The kind that once made Selene burn with jealousy.

But that was then.

Evangeline's gaze swept the chamber before settling on Selene. There was no recognition in her expression—why would there be? To her, Selene was just another noble girl.

Selene forced a polite smile. "Lady Evangeline, I assume?"

Evangeline blinked, momentarily surprised by the directness. Then, she smiled soft, reserved. "Yes. And you must be Lady Selene Vasari?"

Selene inclined her head.

Arabella watched the exchange with unveiled curiosity, a slow grin tugging at her lips. "Well. Isn't this an interesting mix?"

Selene held Evangeline's gaze a moment longer before speaking. "I hope we can all get along."

No malice. No rivalry. No lingering resentment.

She wasn't that girl anymore.

Evangeline studied her, as if searching for something beneath the words. Then, after a beat, she nodded. "Likewise."

Arabella sighed dramatically, stretching in a way that subtly emphasized her curves. "How refreshing. No petty rivalries? No immediate scheming? I think I might actually enjoy this arrangement."

Selene allowed a small smirk. "Disappointed?"

Arabella hummed. "Just a little."

Isolde finished arranging Selene's belongings before bowing slightly and excusing herself, leaving the three of them alone.

Arabella eyed Selene once more, this time with something resembling approval. "You're different from what I expected."

Selene met her gaze evenly. "And what did you expect?"

Arabella leaned back, thoughtful. "Something more… shrewish. Fragile. Naïve. But you're composed. Calculated."

Selene let out a soft chuckle. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Arabella grinned. "Good. Because it was."

Evangeline, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke. "I don't think I've ever met anyone like you before, Lady Selene."

Selene turned to her, meeting those soft violet eyes. "Then let's make this a first."

The conversation that followed was surprisingly easy—light, almost natural. No veiled barbs. No hidden daggers.

For the first time in a long while, Selene felt at ease.

Later that night, as she bathed and let the warmth of the water soothe her body, she stared at her reflection in the mirror.

This was a fresh start.

A new beginning.

And this time, she would savor it.