The Hidden Princess At All-Boys Alpha Academy Chapter 124

Alvez smirks at me and lets me know that he’ll send word about time and place, and then we’re released.

Jackson nods to me, grabbing his bag. “I’ll send word too,” he says, standing up from his desk and looking towards the door.

“Wait,” I say, reaching towards him, wanting him to stop and talk for a minute. Not because I have anything to really say, I realize. Just because…I want to talk to him. “Won’t you just come to dinner, like you did before?”

“You’re already a packed house for dinner,” Jackson says, smirking at me. “Maybe we can…go outside for once. Try to talk to those birds.”

And I smile up at him, my spirit twisting a little with excitement. Because even though it was kind of a disaster the last time I met Jackson alone outside, this time? Well. I think I’d kind of like it.

But before I can express any of that, he’s already gone – striding for the door with no hint of a farewell. I laugh, watching him go.

“Sullen,” Rafe says, coming to my side with his books in his arms, frowning after Jackson.

“Nah, just…not prone to formality,” I sigh, nodding. Because I get it – and now I’m suddenly desperately intrigued to know more about him. What kind of world did Jackson grow up in where he never learned, or was encouraged to eschew, the polite lines of society?

And why did my grandmother the Goddess match him up with me, someone who learned social graces from the cradle as part of my role as the nation’s Princess?

“Come on,” Rafe sighs, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and tugging me with him. “Like I said before – mooning happens in the room, in private.”

“Oh, leave me be,” I mutter, smacking him on the chest, my mind still on my mate as we walk from the room, our cousin at our side.

The rest of the week goes remarkably fast, probably because I’m either being hauled on a workout or have my nose stuck in a book for the rest of it. Even our dinners, while congenial and full of laughs, usually end with a book in each of our laps, studying. It’s grueling work, but each of us know the stakes of it – and we’re all determined to pass our courses as well as the Examination.

“I don’t know what the Examination is,” Ben replies to me one night when I sit next to him on the floor for dinner. He passively eats a roll as he reads through some dense political theory. “No one does.”

“What?” I say, looking up towards Rafe and Jesse in their usual chairs. Luca, stretched out on the couch, looks up too. “Even you two don’t know what’s coming up in the Examination?”

Slowly, Rafe shakes his head. “Dad and Uncle Roger were determined not to tell us. And the cadets who have gone through it – both passed and failed – are sworn to a great deal of secrecy, even legally. It’s pretty much the only secret truly kept about the Academy. The only thing we know is that it comes just before the holidays, it’s physical as well as mental, and it’s very difficult.”

“So,” I say, turning my head to the side as I lean back on my palms, my plate of food forgotten on the coffee table in front of me. “Is it like…another obstacle course?”

“Probably harder than that,” Luca replies, “and longer. What candidates have figured out and posted online is that it takes at least forty-eight hours.”

“What?” I breathe, fascinated and intimidated.

“It’s not really worth the effort to speculate and worry about it,” Rafe says, returning his attention back to his book. “You’re doing well, Ari, and we’re prepping you. Have faith in the process.”

“Easy for you to say,” I mutter, glaring at my gigantic, powerful brother. “Some of us actually have imaginations which speculate beyond our will.”

“Some of us,” Rafe replies, flicking his eyes up to me, a little twist to his lips, “learn to control that.”

“Oh, you never had an imagination anyway,” I sigh, letting my shoulders slump. It’s true, though – I spent my childhood half in daydreams, imagining a thousand other worlds and identities that I played with all throughout the day. Rafe just wanted sports.

“Your curse,” he murmurs. “Not mine.”

I shrug, conceding the point, and attempt to turn my attention back to my Chemistry text as silence retakes the room, the only sound the merry crackle of the fire. Despite my interest in the material, though, my eyes drift to Luca, who lounges with his shoulders against the arm of the sofa, one leg stretched out long while the other is bent at the knee, his text propped against his thigh.

Damn it, but he’s pretty.

And stubborn.

I sigh a little, staring at him, wanting very much to crawl up onto the couch and lay myself out along his side, resting my head on his chest. I want to feel, again, his body against mine. I want to feel his breath rising in his chest, the warm scent of him in my nostrils. I want his arms around me.