Page 38 of Vicious Kings
The classroom building is another architectural fever dream of soaring ceilings and windows that show views that definitely don't match the building's actual location on campus. Maybe it's glamour magic. Maybe it's non-Euclidean geometry. I don't really want to know either way. I follow the flow of omegas, trying to look like I know where I'm going while internally cursing the lack of any logical numbering system.
Room 247 turns out to be on what might be the second floor, or possibly the fifth, depending on which staircase you take. Spatial consistency is apparently another thing the Fae consider beneath them.
The classroom itself looks like someone decided a lecture hall needed to be "omega-fied." Plush seats arranged in a semicircle, each with its own little side table for delicate note-taking. Soft lighting that makes everyone look even more glamorous. And at the front, a podium that looks more like an altar to the gods than a lecturer's pulpit.
I slip into an empty seat near the back, trying to ignore the whispers that follow me.
"Look at what she's wearing."
"So plain."
"I bet she doesn't even own a single dress worth more than a thousand silver if that's what she's wearing her first day."
"How embarrassing."
"Do you think she even knows how to properly curtsy?"
I pull out my textbook, focusing on the cover instead of the urge to show them exactly what these plain clothes can do when wrapped around someone's throat. The title, "Omega Biology, Health, and Destiny", makes me want to gag. The cover features a stylized omega symbol surrounded by flowers and sparkles.
More omegas file in, each one more elaborately dressed than the last. It's like watching a fashion show. They arrange themselves in clear social hierarchies, the most elaborately dressed claiming the center seats while those with simpler attire and collars settle around the edges.
Thensheenters.
The room's energy shifts immediately, whispers dying as every head turns toward the door. She moves like water, each step graceful in a way that makes everyone else look like toddlers learning to walk. Long black hair falls to her waist in a sheet of midnight silk, not a strand out of place. Her dress is deceptively simple. It's deep emerald green, perfectly tailored to her slender frame, but it probably costs more than anything in this room.
It's her collar that draws my attention, though. Unlike the elaborate monstrosities most of the omegas sport, hers is almost minimalist. Delicate silver links that catch the light, centered with a single red stone that seems to pulse with its own inner fire. It's beautiful in a way that makes all the other collars look like costume jewelry.
She doesn't look at anyone as she glides to a seat in the front row. Doesn't acknowledge the way the other omegas practically combust with the desire for her attention. She simply sits, pulls out a leather-bound notebook, and waits.
Instantly, I know this must be the queen bee Anastasia warned me about. Isabella. The one who's already won whatever sick game they're all playing. The others gaze at her with a mixture of worship and envy that's almost painful to watch.
She doesn't even glance in my direction. I might as well not exist.
I prefer it that way.
The door opens again, and the teacher enters. She's Fae, of course. Who better to teach omegas about our bodies than a Fae?
Unlike the softness of the omegas, her beauty is sharp, like a blade honed to killing perfection. She wears a fitted suit in charcoal gray, her silver hair pulled back in a style that's sophisticated rather than ornamental. She looks professional and competent, everything omegas aren't supposed to be.
"Good morning, ladies," she says, her voice carrying easily through the room without being raised. "I see we have a new addition to our class."
Every eye swivels to me. I resist the urge to sink lower in my seat.
"Miss Moreau, I presume?" The teacher's golden eyes find mine. "Welcome to Omega Biology and Wellness. I'm Professor Wyngrave."
"Thank you," I manage, hating how small my voice sounds.
"I trust you'll all show Miss Moreau the hospitality befitting the fine ladies I know you to be." The words are pleasant, but there's steel underneath. A warning. A reminder that she's watching.
The fact that she needs to say it at all tells me everything I need to know about what's coming.
"Now then," Professor Wyngrave continues, moving to the podium with that inhuman Fae grace, "let's begin with a review of last week's material. Miss Haliver, perhaps you could remind us of the three stages of omega maturation?"
A blonde near the front practically bounces in her seat at being called on. "Of course, Professor! The three stages are Awakening, Acknowledgment, and Bonding. Awakening occurswhen our omega nature first manifests, usually accompanied by our first heat. Acknowledgment is when we accept our place in the natural order and embrace our destiny. And Bonding is when we find our perfect match or matches among the Fae!"
She delivers this like she's reciting a fucking fairy tale, complete with clasped hands and dreamy sighs. I bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste blood.
"Very good, Miss Haliver. And who can tell me about the biological changes that occur during Awakening? Miss Larue?"
