Huhhhh?
Raya crossed her arms. "Your side of the room looks like a Victorian funeral home."
Alaric's gaze flicked over her silk cushions and gold-trimmed chaos. "And yours looks like a glitter factory died dramatically."
There was a knock at the door before she could retaliate.
"Advanced Latin begins in three minutes," a prefect announced from the hall. "Try not to kill each other before then."
Raya grabbed her notebook. "Race you."
Alaric didn't even look up as he stood. "I don't race. I win."
The Latin classroom smelled of chalk and polished wood. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, catching dust in the air like suspended judgment.
Raya slid into a seat near the front.
Alaric sat beside her.
She looked at him slowly. "There are other chairs."
"Yes," he said calmly. "But this one provides the optimal angle to observe my competition."
"You're insufferable."
"And yet," he murmured, opening his leather-bound text, "still ahead of you by 0.2 ;)
Before she could fire back, their professor"Welcome to Advanced Latin," he began. "As you all know, this course determines this year's Academic Laureate."
A ripple went through the room.
Raya felt it like a spark down her spine.
The Laureate was everything. Prestige.
Scholarships. Recognition.
Alaric's jaw tightened
The professor continued, You will be working in pairs for the semester. Your performance will be judged collectively.
Raya's stomach dropped 🫤