Chapter 3
Sunset bled into the classroom, casting long, ominous shadows across the desks as the light reflected in streaks of crimson and gold. The tension was palpable, every rustle of movement magnified in the near silence. When the masked figure appeared, it was as though they had stepped directly from the shadows.
They were tall and cloaked in black, the fabric seeming to drink in the light. A white porcelain mask hid their face. The room fell utterly still. Not a whisper, not a shuffle of paper. Even the clock seemed to have paused in deference to the figure standing at the doorway.
Andrea froze as a cold, unfamiliar dread prickled at her skin. Beside her, Sophie’s hand shot out under the desk, clutching Andrea’s fingers in a grip so tight it bordered on pain.
“The Royal Draw begins today.” The voice that spoke was warped, as though filtered through a modulator. It was impossible to tell whether it belonged to a man or a woman, but its weight was undeniable. “For those new to The Blackthorn, welcome to the game that will define your place within these walls for the semester.”
Andrea’s heart pounded, each beat reverberating in her ears. She felt the weight of the room’s collective gaze shift toward the figure at the front of the room. The whispers that had been swirling about “The Royal Draw” suddenly made sense—and the reality was more terrifying than she had imagined.
The figure stepped forward with measured precision, their black boots silent against the hardwood floor. In their gloved hands, they held the empty card box Andrea had noticed earlier on the teacher’s desk. Turning it over slowly, they examined it as if it were a sacred artifact before addressing the class again.
“Fifty-two cards,” the Deckmaster began, holding the box aloft, “have been hidden across the academy grounds. You have two hours to find one and return here. The card you bring back determines your role, your status, your standing—until the next Draw.”
Andrea felt Sophie’s hand tighten again, trembling now. The mask swiveled, surveying the class, each movement deliberate and commanding.
As they spoke, the second Deckmaster stepped forward, their gloved hands holding a piece of white chalk. With deliberate precision, they began to draw on the blackboard behind them. The chalk scraped against the surface, the sound sharp and jarring in the oppressive stillness.
A pyramid began to take shape. At its apex, they drew two symbols: a King and a Queen. Beneath them, a single Jack. Below that, the tiers widened to include numbers: Ten through Eight, Seven and so on, until the base of the pyramid held the lowest ranks: Three, Two, and finally, separate from all others, lowest—the Joker.
When the pyramid was complete, the second Deckmaster turned to face the class, their masked gaze sweeping over the rows of students.
“This,” they said, gesturing to the board, “is the social hierarchy you will follow. The card you draw will determine your place in it.” They pointed to the top of the pyramid. “The King and Queen rule. They hold absolute power over the class, issuing commands and making decisions that all must follow. Their word is law.”
Andrea’s stomach churned as their hand dropped to the next level.
“The Jack serves the King or Queen. Loyal, obedient, and unflinching, the Jack enforces their will, ensuring their commands are carried out to the letter.”
The second Deckmaster moved lower, tapping the middle layers. “Cards Ten through Eight belong to the Gossipers, the class’s lifeblood of information, intrigue, and scandal. They report, they expose, and they stir the pot, but always in service of the hierarchy.”
The chalk hovered over the Seven. “The Geek. Obsessed with knowledge, this role offers expertise to the class, serving as a resource for the higher ranks.”
Lower still, the hand indicated the Six. “The Sixes are the Subordinates. You will run errands, handle tasks, and follow orders without hesitation.”
The Deckmaster descended to the penultimate tier. “The Five is the Nerd, socially awkward and often underestimated. The Four and Three represent the outsiders—the Emo, the Goth, the Punk—those defined by their alternative ways. Your roles may vary, but your place will not.”
Finally, they pointed to the bottom-most layer. “The Two is the Loner, or the Philanthropist. Kind, invisible, isolated. And then,” the gloved hand paused over the lone card below the pyramid, “there is the Joker.”
The class seemed to collectively hold its breath.
“The Joker is the scapegoat,” the Deckmaster said, their voice turning ice-cold. “The victim. The lowest of the low. They exist to bear the ridicule, cruelty, and punishment of the entire class. To refuse to play, or fail to bring back a card, is to become the Joker. You will live as the outcast until the next Draw.”
Andrea’s chest tightened as the weight of the words sank in. Every student was now a competitor, scrambling to avoid that bottommost role.
But then, the second Deckmaster drew another line outside the pyramid, and a single card: the Ace.
“There is one card that does not fit within the pyramid,” they said, their tone shifting to something darker, more ominous. “The Ace. The troublemaker, the rebel, the disruptor of order. The Ace answers to no one, defies all rules, and acts as an agent of chaos. But beware,” they added, their voice dropping, “the Ace walks a dangerous path. Freedom comes with a price.”
Andrea’s mind raced. The hierarchy was no longer abstract—it was brutal, unyielding, and unavoidable.
“Remember,” the Deckmaster continued, their voice cutting through the air, “the higher the card you find, the higher your rank.”
Andrea’s stomach churned as the mask tilted slightly toward her, as though it could sense her unease. Every student in the class was now a competitor, a player in a game they hadn’t chosen but couldn’t escape.
“The rules are simple,” the second Deckmaster said, placing the card box back on the desk. “Find your card. Return it here until time runs out. And play your role until the next Draw.” They turned toward the door, pausing to deliver a final warning. “Cheating will not be tolerated. Reporting the game to staff or teachers will not be tolerated. We are always watching.”
A visible shudder went through the room at that last word. Andrea remembered Sophie’s earlier fear, understanding it now with horrible clarity.
“Those who refuse to participate or attempt to disrupt the game will automatically receive Joker status,” the first Deckmaster continued. “The same applies to anyone not back in this room with a card when time expires.” They produced an ornate hourglass from their cloak. “Your time begins now.”
Chaos erupted. Students bolted from their seats, shoving past each other in their desperation to get out the door. Victoria Sterling moved with surprising purpose, heading straight for the greenhouse with several of her followers in tow.
“Run,” Sophie whispered, her face pale with terror. “And pray you don’t get the Joker.”
Then she was gone, leaving Andrea alone in the rapidly emptying classroom. The Deckmaster stood motionless at the front, the hourglass sand trickling away with merciless precision.
Andrea forced herself to think. The library – it was vast, with countless hiding places. She ran through Blackthorn’s shadowy corridors, her white tie flying behind her like a surrender flag. Other students were already rifling through books, pulling them from shelves, checking behind portraits.
“Not there.” Gabriel Sinclair’s quiet voice made her jump. He stood in the shadows between two shelves, watching her with those storm-gray eyes. “You’re looking in the wrong place.”
“Will you tell me the right place then?” Andrea asked, hearing the desperation in her own voice.
Gabriel’s expression flickered with what might have been guilt. “I shouldn’t. But…” He glanced over his shoulder, then leaned closer. “Look where hearts bloom in forgotten places. That’s all I can say.”
He disappeared between the shelves before she could ask more, leaving her with his cryptic hint. Hearts bloom… The abandoned rose garden! She’d glimpsed it earlier from a classroom window, its overgrown trellises like skeletal fingers against the sky.
Andrea ran. The sunset had deepened to twilight, casting long shadows across the grounds. The garden gate creaked as she pushed it open, rust flaking beneath her fingers. Ancient roses climbed the weathered trellises, their thorns like warning signs.
She wasn’t alone. Other students prowled between the bushes, some already nursing scratched hands and torn sleeves. A cry of triumph turned to frustration – someone had found the Three of Clubs. Not high enough to matter, but obviously better than the Joker.
Andrea moved deeper into the garden, where the roses grew wild and untamed. Gabriel’s words echoed in her mind: hearts bloom in forgotten places. The most overgrown corner caught her eye, where thorny branches had woven themselves into an almost impenetrable wall.
Something glinted deep within the thorns. Without allowing herself to think, Andrea plunged her hand into the brambles. Pain lanced up her arm as thorns raked her skin, but her fingers closed around something smooth and stiff.
A card.
Blood smeared her palm as Andrea tore her hand free from the thorny bush. The card was gripped so tightly in her fingers she couldn’t bring herself to look at it—not yet. The pain from the scratches that marred her skin felt distant, muted by the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She had no time to process. No time to falter. The hourglass was nearly empty. She had to run.
Her heart pounded as she raced through the darkening halls of Blackthorn Academy, her footsteps echoing against the polished marble floors. The air was heavy, oppressive, as though the building itself was holding its breath. Red droplets from her hand splattered on the pristine tiles, leaving a trail that marked her frantic path.
The classroom loomed ahead, its door open just enough for her to glimpse the flickering light inside. Andrea pushed herself harder, her lungs burning as she burst through the doorway.
Inside, her classmates were already gathered, their faces painted with a mix of triumph, dread, and exhaustion. Each held their card close—some clutching it like a prize, others hiding it as though ashamed. The atmosphere was thick with tension, every gaze darting between the Deckmaster and the hourglass on the desk.
When Victoria’s eyes landed on Andrea’s bloodied hand, her smile twisted into something cruel.
“Well,” she said, her voice saccharine with mockery. “I see someone’s been playing a little too rough. Did you even find a card, Riley, or are those scratches your consolation prize?”
Andrea ignored her, the pain in her hand now a dull throb. She could feel the card slick with her blood, the weight of its importance unbearable.
“Time,” the distorted voice of the Deckmaster announced, cutting through the tension like a blade. “Reveal your cards, you last two.”
The room stilled.
“Miss Sterling?”
Victoria stepped forward with all the poise of royalty, her movements deliberate as she held up her card.
“Ten of Spades,” she declared.
A few scattered murmurs of approval rippled through the room. The procession began, each student stepping forward to reveal their rank. Some celebrated their luck with wide grins and whispers of relief; others barely suppressed tears as they revealed lower cards.
Sophie was next. Her hands shook slightly as she displayed the Jack of Hearts, a visible wave of relief washing over her. Gabriel, calm and unreadable, revealed the King of Diamonds. Aiden stepped forward last, a sardonic grin tugging at his lips as he flipped the Ace of Spades for all to see.
Then, all eyes turned to Andrea.
“Miss Riley?”
Her hands trembled as she stepped forward, her breath caught in her throat. Slowly, she turned over the card, the room holding its collective breath. Blood smeared across the surface, but the figure was unmistakable.
The Queen of Hearts.
A stunned silence fell over the classroom, broken only by the sharp intake of breath from her classmates. Then came the scream.
“No, what the fuck!” Victoria’s voice cracked, her face twisted in fury. “That’s impossible! She’s just a leftover trash student! She can’t—she can’t—”
“Silence,” the Deckmaster commanded, raising a gloved hand. The authority in their voice was undeniable. “The card is revealed. Miss Riley is your Queen.”
Andrea’s heart hammered in her chest as the weight of the title settled over her. The room seemed smaller now, the gazes of her peers suffocating.
“Meet your King and Queen with respect and obedience,” the Deckmaster intoned, their mask turning toward the class. “Their rule begins now.”
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