Chapter 41
It’s the start of the new semester at Blackthorn. Students whispered nervously in corners, their gazes darting toward the Sinclair brothers, who stood at the center of the room like immovable pillars. Even they seemed different, their usual confidence edged with something sharper.
Andrea stood near the edge of the crowd, watching as Nathaniel spoke in hushed tones to Damien and Gabriel. Aiden lingered nearby, his expression unreadable. Nathaniel caught her eye briefly, giving her a small, reassuring nod, but even that felt subdued.
“What’s going on?” Andrea whispered to a nearby student.
“It’s always like this before the Royal Draw,” the girl said. “The tension. But this year… it feels worse.”
Andrea’s stomach churned as the headmaster stepped onto the stage at the front of the grand hall, signaling the beginning of the ceremony. The Royal Draw was Blackthorn’s defining tradition, and its results shaped everything—the alliances, the power plays, the hierarchy.
“Welcome back, students,” the headmaster said, his voice carrying over the crowd. “As always, the Royal Draw determines your standing for the semester. Approach with respect, and remember: your card is your destiny.”
Andrea’s heart thudded in her chest as the students began to line up, each waiting for their turn to step into the back room where the cards were kept.
Nathaniel approached her, his expression calm but his eyes intense. “You’ll be fine,” he said quietly.
Andrea nodded, but her palms were damp with sweat. “What if I’m not?”
Nathaniel’s jaw tightened. “You will be. Trust me.”
When Andrea’s turn came, she stepped into the back room alone. It was dimly lit, the scent of polished wood and old paper filling the air. On the long table in the center of the room sat a neatly arranged deck of cards, each one facedown.
Andrea approached slowly, her nerves buzzing. She had drawn the Queen of Hearts once before, a card that had given her power and protection. But what if she wasn’t so lucky this time?
She reached out, her fingers brushing the edges of the cards.
Suddenly, the door behind her slammed shut.
Andrea spun around, her heart leaping into her throat. “Hello?” she called out, her voice echoing in the small space.
There was no answer. She ran to the door and tried the handle—it wouldn’t budge.
“Hey! Let me out!” she shouted, banging on the heavy wood.
Silence.
Andrea’s chest tightened as panic set in. She pounded harder, her voice growing louder. “Is anyone out there? I’m locked in!”
She turned back to the table, her mind racing. She had to pick a card. Maybe then someone would notice she was missing.
But before she could move, she heard the faint sound of footsteps retreating. Whoever had locked her in was walking away.
“No, no, no,” Andrea whispered, slamming her fists against the door again. “Please! Let me out!”
Minutes stretched into what felt like hours. The muffled sound of applause from the hall filtered through the walls, signaling that the draw was nearing its conclusion.
Andrea’s throat burned from yelling, and her fists ached from pounding on the door. She slumped against the wood, her head spinning.
When the door finally creaked open, Andrea stumbled out, her face flushed with anger and embarrassment. A staff member stood there, looking sheepish.
“Sorry about that,” he mumbled.
“Sorry?” Andrea snapped. “I was locked in here!”
He didn’t respond, stepping aside as she stormed past him.
The grand hall was still full, but the ceremony was clearly over. Students were chatting animatedly, comparing their cards and discussing alliances. Andrea pushed through the crowd, searching for Nathaniel or any of the brothers.
She found Damien first, his sharp gaze narrowing as he spotted her. “Where have you been?” he asked, his voice low.
“I was locked in the back room,” Andrea said, her anger bubbling over. “Someone did it on purpose.”
Damien’s eyes darkened, and his jaw clenched. “We’ll deal with that later. Do you know your card?”
Andrea froze. “I didn’t get a chance to draw one. I—”
Her words were cut off by a loud murmur rippling through the crowd.
“She’s the Joker,” someone whispered.
Andrea’s stomach dropped as she turned to see the headmaster approaching. He gave her a pitying look.
“Miss Riley,” he said, his voice carrying just enough for the crowd to hear. “As per the rules, any student who fails to draw a card is automatically assigned the Joker.”
The room seemed to close in on her, the weight of the humiliation pressing down.
The Joker. The lowest rank. The powerless position.
Andrea’s fists clenched at her sides as the crowd whispered and laughed behind their hands.
“That’s unfair,” she said, her voice shaking. “It wasn’t my fault. I was locked in.”
The headmaster’s expression didn’t change. “The rules are the rules, Miss Riley.”
