Cruel War (The Gilded Sovereign 1)

Etienne, Tarian, and I need to prove ourselves to the Elder Crowns who will initiate us and vote us in. We need to show them we’re capable of running the society. The age to join used to be eighteen, but they changed it two years ago because of young, hotheaded assholes who caused some shit by spewing information about the society in a Vegas strip club breaking the society’s most absolute law—never speak of the Sovereign to any outsiders.

Harding doesn’t like me very much, and the feeling is mutual. I wasn’t meant to be one of the Crowns, but as the rules stand, since he doesn’t have a son, I’ll take a seat at the table. The Sovereign is rigid in the no women rule.

“We’ll do a walkthrough later, get some introductions done,” I tell my best friends. Both understand why I want this so badly. They’re both firstborn sons, which means they automatically get in, I have a bit of extra work to do to take my rightful place in the Sovereign.

“I’ll see you tonight,” Etienne tells me as he heads off to his class, leaving me with Tar.

After offering Etienne a nod before he disappears, I turn to my left. “You coming tonight?”

Tarian glances at me with bright blue eyes that match the sky today. “What’s happening tonight?” He questions as he pulls out a packet of smokes, tapping one out before placing it between his lips.

“We’re meeting down at the lake house,” I tell him, “I’m thinking of having a little get together. The calm before the storm.”

Orientation week is one of the busiest at the school, especially for the freshmen. The seniors tend to hide out at the Lancaster lake house, which sits on the edge of town behind the forest. It’s secluded and tranquil, something I think I’ll be needing before my rigorous course load begins.

“Yeah.” Tar grins. “Let’s get a few girls out there. I need to get my dick wet.” This time, he chuckles, and I just shake my head.

“You know it,” I respond, fist-bumping him before making it up the stairs and toward my class. Even though I settle in my chair, attempting to focus, my mind is still on the fresh meat that’s arrived. The one with hair the color of night. Something about her has me intrigued.

“Welcome back, minions,” Professor Harding greets us. In his late fifties, he’s one of the oldest staff members at the school. Also, one of the Crowns of the Sovereign.

His gaze lands on me within seconds of his greeting, his stare hardening into narrows slits before he turns his attention back to the rest of the students.

“This year, you’ll be obeying my every command because I’m not going easy on you.” His snark is clear. Asshole thinks he runs the world. “Since it’s the first day of your final year at Tynewood, I was thinking about taking it easy on you, but… I’m not that nice. Remember, I’m the one who makes sure you pass your finals. Anything less than an A in my class is a fail.”

A groan resounds in the room, and he smiles. The darkness this man exudes is worse than my father’s domineering demeanor. Harding is the same age as Dad, but he looks ten times older. He acts it, too.

“Now, let’s have a little fun and talk about what we remember from last year.” He grins before lifting a stack of pages, which makes me think we have a goddamn pop quiz.

Muffled complaints echo around me, but that only makes him happier. Sitting back in my seat, I pull out my cell phone and tap out a message to Dad, who I know is at work down the hall. As a history professor, he takes pride in his class, in his students, and I know I’m stirring shit between him and Harding, but that’s why I’m here—to shake up an age-old society that needs new blood.

2

Dahlia

My heart thuds against my chest as I meander through the throng of students. I’m out of my depth, but I can’t deny that mingled with the anxiety is excitement.

Tynewood is a small town, with the university that my dad attended sitting in the center, taking up most of the town. Since his death a month ago, I moved here, hoping to find some semblance of family with my gran, my dad’s mother.

My father’s mother, Beatrice Milton, is a homebody, just like me. She’s never left the small town she was born in, and she never once visited us in D.C. Her house is beautiful, with two bedrooms, one now mine, she’s looked after the property since she and my late grandfather moved in when they were newlyweds.

Gran’s still a stranger to me, but I hope living with her will bring us closer, and I’ll get to know her better. Focusing on the looming buildings ahead of me, I can’t help but feel nervous. Everything about this town is new to me, and even though I grew up in a bustling city, something about the size of Tynewood makes me anxious.