Chapter 1: The First Day is Always the Deadliest

"And now, for the moment none of you have been waiting for!"

The pompous voice of the beastman announcer boomed from the boxy television set in the corner of the church living room. The screen flickered, casting a static-filled blue glow over the two dozen orphans huddled on the threadbare carpet.

Blair Willows sat in the center of the chaos, her knees pulled to her chest. Her heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs.

"I swear, if he stalls one more time, I’m throwing my shoe at the screen," Tommy, a scrawny ten-year-old with a missing front tooth, grumbled. He already had his battered sneaker halfway off his foot.

"Put that away, Thomas," Sister Margaret chided, though her own eyes were glued unblinkingly to the television. She stood behind Blair, furiously dabbing a cotton swab stained with jet-black dye against Blair’s scalp. "Hold still, Blair. Your roots are showing."

"I’m trying, Sister, but I can’t breathe," Blair gasped out.

On the screen, the announcer adjusted his ridiculous silk cravat. He had the distinctive tufted ears of a lynx, and they were currently pinned flat against his head in sheer annoyance.

"As you know," the announcer sneered, his lip curling in disgust, "the Apex Beast Academy accepts only the elite. The apex predators. The nobility of our glorious Beast World. However, due to the... gracious laws passed by our former King, we are forced to permit a handful of human ’lessers’ to test for entry."

A chorus of boos erupted from the orphans.

"Eat dirt, furball!" little Mia shrieked, throwing a handful of popcorn at the TV.

"Mia, language!" Sister Margaret gasped, though she didn’t actually try to stop her. "Blair, blink. Let me check the contacts."

Blair turned, blinking her eyes rapidly. The itchy, cheap brown lenses effectively hid the unnatural, bright pink irises beneath. Sister Margaret sighed in relief, giving Blair’s freshly dyed black hair a final pat.

"Now," the announcer on TV continued, looking like he had just swallowed a lemon. "We will announce the top three scorers of this year’s entrance exam. In third place... Lord Jasper Silver."

A picture of a breathtakingly gorgeous young man with long, flowing blue hair and a dazzling smile flashed on the screen.

"Ooh, he’s pretty," Mia whispered.

"He’s a fish," Tommy countered.

"And now..." The announcer’s face turned a violent shade of purple. He stared at his cue card as if it were on fire. He tapped his earpiece. "Is this a joke? Is someone playing a prank? I will have someone’s tail for this!"

Blair’s breath hitched. She leaned forward, her knuckles turning white as she gripped her knees. No way.

"Read the card, Reginald!" a muffled producer’s voice yelled from off-screen.

The lynx beastman swallowed hard, looking physically ill. "Ranked number two... scoring higher than the entire beast nobility... is... a human." The silence in the broadcast studio was deafening. "Blair Willows."

For one second, the church living room was dead silent.

Then, the roof blew off.

The orphans erupted into deafening shrieks of joy. Tommy threw his shoe, which bounced harmlessly off the TV screen. Mia tackled Blair in a hug, followed by five other kids, until Blair was buried at the bottom of a giggling, screaming puppy pile of human children.

"You beat them!" Tommy yelled, jumping on the sofa. "Blair beat the beasts! Blair beat the beasts!"

Beneath the pile, Blair let out a breathless, triumphant laugh. She had done it. She had actually done it. She studied day and night, sneaking discarded textbooks from the beastmen dumpsters, and she had outscored almost every single arrogant predator in the city. For a fleeting, glorious second, she felt like a queen.

Then, the announcer’s voice cut through the celebration like a knife.

"And, of course, taking his rightful place at number one... His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Killian Lexur."

A collective shiver seemed to run through the room. The photo on the screen changed to a young man with striking silver hair and cold, purple eyes. Even through a grainy television screen, his aura was suffocating.

Blair’s triumphant smile vanished.

Number two. Right behind the Crown Prince. The Snake Prince. The heir to the throne who was notoriously vocal about his hatred for humans.

"Oh, sweet merciful heavens," Sister Margaret whispered, crossing herself. The color had completely drained from the elderly nun’s face. "Blair. What have you done?"

"I... I just wanted to pass," Blair stammered, scrambling out from under the kids. The reality of the situation crashed over her like a tidal wave. She didn’t just pass. She humiliated the entire beast aristocracy on live television. "I didn’t think I’d actually score that high!"

"You put a target on your back the size of the continent," Sister Margaret said, her voice trembling. She grabbed Blair by the shoulders, her grip painfully tight. "Listen to me. You go to that academy. You keep your head down. You do not speak unless spoken to, and you stay away from the royals. Do you understand me? If they look too closely... if they find out what you are..."

"I know," Blair whispered. "I’m just a plain, boring human. I’ll be invisible."

An hour later, Blair stood coughing in a cloud of fumes as the rusty, rattling "Lesser’s Transport" bus peeled away from the curb. She gripped the handle of her busted, duct-taped suitcase and stared up at the imposing iron gates of Apex Beast Academy.

It looked less like a school and more like a fortress built for gods. Towering spires of black marble reached into the sky, surrounded by immaculately manicured grounds.

"Okay, Blair," she muttered to herself, adjusting her frumpy uniform sweater. It was three sizes too big, deliberately chosen to hide the curves that Sister Margaret always warned would draw the wrong kind of attention. "Just find the freshman orientation hall. In and out. Like a ghost."

She trudged through the servant’s entrance, hauling her suitcase over the cobblestones. The sheer scale of everything was overwhelming. The doors were ten feet tall. The steps were massive. Everything was built for predators who could casually bench-press a truck.

As she turned the corner into the main courtyard, she hit a wall of noise and chaos.

Hundreds of students were milling about. Beastwomen with vibrant, exotic hair colors and stunning figures strutted past, their laughter echoing off the stone walls. Beastmen with broad shoulders, some sporting furry ears or swishing tails, shoved playfully at each other. The air smelled of expensive perfumes, raw power, and danger.

Blair ducked her head, pulling her collar up, and hugged the wall. Invisible. I am a speck of dust.

"Out of the way, lesser!"

A sharp shove to her shoulder sent Blair stumbling. A tall beastwoman with leopard spots trailing down her neck sneered at her as she pushed past with her friends.

Blair’s worn suitcase caught the edge of a stone planter. The duct tape, which had been holding on for dear life since she left the orphanage, finally gave up the ghost.

Riiiip.

"No, no, no," Blair gasped as the suitcase burst open. Several of her plain, worn t-shirts and underwear spilled out onto the pristine walkway.

Panic flared in her chest. She dropped to her knees, frantically shoving her belongings back into the broken case. The courtyard around her seemed to hush.

"Hurry up," she hissed to herself, her hands trembling.

She grabbed the last shirt, stood up quickly, and spun around to make a run for it.

She didn’t make it two steps.

Smack.

Blair collided face-first with what felt like a solid wall of warm, muscular granite. The impact knocked the breath completely out of her lungs. She stumbled backward, her boots slipping on the polished stone.

Flailing wildly to catch her balance, her hands shot out and grabbed the closest thing available: the lapels of a very soft, expensive uniform blazer.

She hauled herself upright, her fists still tightly clutching the dark fabric of the stranger’s chest.

"I am so, so sorry," Blair blurted out, her eyes squeezed shut in embarrassment. "I tripped, my suitcase broke, I wasn’t looking—"

A low hiss sounded right above her head.

It wasn’t a metaphor. It was an actual, literal hiss.

The courtyard, which had been buzzing with chatter seconds before, went dead silent. Not a single person moved. Not a single person breathed.

Blair slowly, hesitantly, opened her eyes.

Her gaze traveled up the gold-embroidered blazer she was currently wrinkling with her death grip. Up a strong, perfectly sculpted jawline. Up to a face so arrestingly handsome it actually hurt to look at.

Silver hair caught the afternoon sun.

And staring down at her, filled with an icy disgust that made her blood run cold, were two piercing purple eyes.

The irises were thin, black vertical slits.

As Blair stared in frozen horror, the young man parted his lips. A forked tongue flicked out, tasting the air between them.

"Get your filthy hands," Crown Prince Killian Lexur said, his voice a silken, deadly whisper that echoed in the silent courtyard, "off of me."