Chapter Six
New Horizons
The Henrietta Library was one of Imogen's favorite spaces. The upscale, gilded style reflected the large collection of literature and music housed in its two floors. Some days, she stood in the center of the library, basked in the washes of sunlight from its tall glass windows, and traced the intricate patterns on the domed ceiling with her eyes.
So naturally, when she was told to meet Rosemary outside the library for the Selected's first history class, she was confused. How were they going to hold classes in the library, a space typically quiet and untouched? The small alcoves on the second floor would never fit all of the men.
She received her answer when she arrived in the hallway and found the door to the library closed—and the door to the plain room beside it, probably some lesser-used conference room, wide open.
"For a second, I thought the Selected were having class in the library."
Rosemary shook her head. "No, of course not. The Henrietta Library is off-limits until the pool gets smaller. There are many valuables in there."
Somehow, Imogen doubted her Selected had signed up purely to steal a twentieth-century volume from the royal collection. She followed Rosemary into the classroom, where rectangular desks were arranged in neat rows.
Her entrance drew the attention of the Selected, who instantly stood to attention. "Your Highness," they chorused, bowing. They were piteously out of sync.
"Her Highness will occasionally join us for your history, policy, government, and etiquette classes," Rosemary said. "She will be aware of everything that occurs within these four walls. As members of the Selection, you are expected to pay careful attention to these classes. Princess Imogen, you may take a seat."
Imogen surveyed the room, spotting Dillon in the last row. However, as she was about to head for the back, Rosemary said quietly, "It would be best if you chose someone other than Sir Noel."
Imogen locked eyes with Dillon, who pouted as if he had guessed Rosemary's words. That left a few open seats available to her. She didn't want the spot next to Asher Coulter, or Andres Porter. Right in front of her was an open seat on the very right of the second row, beside Elias Newton.
He was a teacher, right? Hopefully, sitting with him wouldn't put too much strain on her brain cells.
Elias was peering at the notepad on his desk when she dropped into the seat next to him. "Sir Elias."
He looked up with a jolt but instantly smiled at her. "Good morning, Your Highness!" He ran a hand through his dark-brown hair almost self-consciously. "I'm very excited about this class."
The men around them were less chipper. Imogen noticed Emory Merrell, who sat directly in front of her, looking behind him almost wistfully. On the other side of Elias was Jack Mercatura, who was trying to peer around Elias.
"It is nice to learn history," Imogen agreed. "Although, I suppose I'm not learning it if I already know it."
Rosemary cleared her throat. "Eyes on the board, please." All of the Selected, who had been staring in their direction, quickly turned back to the front of the room, where a makeshift whiteboard stood. "Thank you. I understand that the princess may be a distraction, but remember that Her Highness is mainly here to evaluate you."
At those words, Elias eyed her with slightly more nerves, but his smile was surprisingly intact.
"As this is only your first lesson, I'll avoid going into difficult topics." Rosemary pointed to the first word on the board: Constitution. "Today, we'll be discussing some history that everybody in this room has hopefully learned before: the implementation of the Illéan Constitution, the reign of the Fortescues, and the transition to the Caswells."
Imogen winced. Sure, this was basic history, and some of the most common knowledge, so she understood the rationale of starting with something familiar. But that period of Illéa's recent history, though extremely significant, was also a touchy subject for one particular family. She was surprised Vasilios Fortescue didn't come bursting through the doors.
As Rosemary went over the Illéan Constitution's origins, Imogen tapped Elias on the arm as discreetly as possible. He gave her a questioning look. "Is this new to you?"
He shook his head. "My elementary school students learn this in class." His voice lowered even more, which she didn't know was possible. "Wait, not that the other men have the same knowledge base as elementary school students—"
Imogen wanted to chuckle at the implication. However, she felt eyes on them from behind and realized that the men at the back must've noticed their interactions. Whoops. She directed her attention to Rosemary, but couldn't help seeing out of the corner of her eye that Elias was dutifully taking notes, even if he claimed he knew the information.
"…and then the Fortescues became the Illéan monarchs," Rosemary finished. "Does anyone know their names?"
Colin Eaton raised his hand.
"Sir Eaton."
"King Aegeus Fortescue and Queen Desdemona Fortescue née Taylour, with their young son, Prince Helios Fortescue," he said, head held high. He locked eyes with Imogen, mouth curving smugly.
Wow, congratulations, she thought. Do you want a medal or something?
Aegon Westfall grinned as he heard Colin's words, and Imogen noticed him whispering something to Martel Vanderbilt.
"Correct. Thank you for raising your hand." Rosemary pointed to another word on the board: Helios. "Now, as I'm sure you know, the royal name is no longer Fortescue. Why did the Fortescue family's reign end with King Helios Fortescue?"
Imogen stiffened. Because he murdered his own parents. That information would never be found in textbooks. It was one of the most classified pieces of information, tucked away in the Royal Archives.
Rosemary called on Jack Mercatura. "The Council decided that the Caswells were better fit to rule."
"You… have to be more specific than that, Sir Mercatura," Rosemary said. "I'll elaborate. At the time, King Helios ascended the throne with his new wife, who he met through a Selection. His parents and siblings died in an earthquake, so he was left to rule by himself at a young age. There was evidence of corruption and collusion within his royal court, and he refused to cooperate with the Council despite the written rules of the Illéan Constitution. The movement to end the Fortescue reign began with… which house?"
Colin's hand shot up again, but Rosemary picked Charlie Vance-Austen instead. "House Beaufort. They accused King Helios of murdering their heir."
One of the many reasons why Imogen detested the Fortescues. Even if it had been generations since the last Fortescue on the throne. From the start, they had acquired power through twisted means, and continued to do so.
"Correct. Through an official meeting which was later popularly known as the First Conclave, the houses came together to vote on the fate of the royal line." This time, Rosemary pointed to the word Conclave. "The houses unanimously voted against House Fortescue, so House Caswell was appointed as the next ruling house. At the same time, the Council had realized that the Constitution was fallible, and that they needed a mechanism to settle disputes."
"Why House Caswell?" someone from the back asked. Imogen couldn't see who it was, but she bristled. That question, though a valid one, had definitely been raised in many discussions of Illéa's history.
"Please raise your hand," Rosemary reminded. "I was actually about to touch on that. At the time, there was a lot of political uncertainty surrounding the country's recent independence, and the public became distrustful of the monarchy and nobility. Approval ratings were at a historic low, and the houses worried that the nobility might be overthrown altogether if things did not recover. Thus, rather than the heads of house, who were significantly older and partially implicated in King Helios's actions, they decided that only an heir to one of the houses could be chosen to succeed the throne in place of King Helios's children. At the time, House Caswell, House Noel, and House Seton had eligible heirs. Out of the three, House Caswell had the most courtly influence, so King Laurence Caswell ascended the throne."
Her ancestor. King Laurence's portrait was the first in the Hall of Eminence. She didn't like spending time there, walking along the relatively short path of her family's history and feeling followed by the painted yet judgmental gaze of the past Illéan monarchs.
She remembered kneeling underneath King Laurence's portrait when she was fourteen, asking her ancestors between sobs whether she would ever bring honor to the Caswell name.
"…rekindled diplomatic relations with other nations and strengthened Illéa's economy," Rosemary was saying. Imogen sat up straighter. Judging by the progress in Elias's notes, she must have tuned out most of what Rosemary had said about King Laurence. If there was any part of Illéa's modern history that she could recite in her sleep, it was this one. "In particular, with the assistance of the other houses, he revitalized key industries that helped the domestic economy recover. That concludes our session for today. Any questions?"
To her left, Elias raised his hand. Imogen noticed that he hadn't jumped to answer the questions, unlike some of the other men. But surely, he was familiar with the content.
"Sir Newton."
Elias adjusted his glasses. "Will we be assigned any work outside of class for the duration of the Selection?"
Imogen had to bite her lip to physically restrain herself from laughing. Homework.
Having been taught by Rosemary her whole life, she already knew the answer to that one.
"I'm glad you asked, Sir Newton!" Rosemary clasped her hands together. "There is no homework today, but I will assign at least one important assignment each week. This means that at least one of your classes will require additional work, which I expect completed before the next session."
Imogen was now slightly concerned for Elias's safety, considering several of the men looked downright murderous. Bailey Wanewright and Cedric DunBroch, in particular, had fierce scowls on their faces—although Bailey's expression had been pretty stony ever since she had walked in.
"Remember, we meet here tomorrow at the same time for your first policy class. We'll cover some of King Laurence's policies, focusing on the economy, that continue to impact the country today." Rosemary made eye contact with Imogen. "Is there anything you would like to say to the Selected before I dismiss them?"
"Thank you for your participation in these classes." She gestured towards the board. "Though it might seem tedious, it is important to understand Illéa's modern history. Your performance in these classes will, in many ways, be used as an indicator of your suitability to become king consort."
After hearing that, some of the men looked a little nervous. Good. She continued, "I hope that you will treat these classes with the same amount of respect as anything else."
Now for the real fun part. Suppressing a sigh, she stood and walked to the entrance of the room. "This afternoon, there will be a group date. The Montano Seaside Lodge has generously extended an invitation to myself and a few members of the Selection to join them before their official grand opening." That was a nice way of putting it. The truth was, House Noel was one of the hotel's sponsors and probably wanted the media attention of the Selection. Judging by Dillon's grin, he knew this too. "Three of you will accompany me to this event."
If the room had previously been silent, it was nothing compared to the tense stillness that stretched through the air now. Caleb Faust, who sat closest to the door, looked like he wanted to ask a question, but he abruptly shut his mouth.
"Who will be going on this group date, Your Highness?" Aegon Westfall asked from the back of the room. Gutsy.
She almost wanted to draw out the suspense for longer, just to see them squirm. However, the urge to get away from them won out. "Martel Vanderbilt, Colin Eaton, and Cade Summersgill."
Somehow, the entire room looked shocked except for the three men in question.
Her eyes fell on the first. Martel Vanderbilt's face was calm, with no visible indication of any surprise. Half of his long blond hair was tied back in a bun. He didn't smile, but met her eyes steadily.
Colin Eaton, who had previously been so eager to answer questions, now sat at his desk, looking surprisingly still. He nodded to himself, crossing his arms, but his smirk was gone.
Finally, she turned her gaze to Cade Summersgill, who was sitting in the back row. He didn't appear to be taken aback, but was instead looking at her thoughtfully. As they locked eyes, the corners of his mouth quirked upwards, and he dipped his head in acknowledgment.
The Council had chosen all three of the men for this group date. What had the Council gotten her into?
A knock on the door made Imogen look up from the legal documents she was reviewing.
Weird. She didn't have anything scheduled for the moment. Renee was in the design studio, it was too early for the group date, and the Selected were forbidden from entering the royal's hallway.
She opened the door and came face to face—or instead, face to shoulders, given his tall height—with a very flustered Isaac Beaufort. He ran a hand through his black hair, messing it up even more. "Have you seen Thalia and Tavin?"
"Nice to see you too," she noted. "Why would Thalia and Tavin be in my room?" She couldn't remember the last time she had seen the younger Beaufort children, let alone interacted with them.
Usually, Isaac was effortlessly collected—a quiet confidence that was so different from the tension in the rest of the room whenever he showed up to meetings. Now, he paced back and forth in front of her door, looking like he was about to tear his hair out. "I lost them."
"Don't they have a nanny?"
His light-brown cheeks flushed. "See… I was meant to be watching them this afternoon, but Quinn came over, and…"
Taking in his disheveled appearance, she suddenly realized that he wasn't just stressed about his siblings. The top of his shirt was unbuttoned, his hair was mussed up, and… was that a dark spot on his neck?
"Spare me the details." She had no idea who Quinn was, but she assumed the name belonged to Isaac's newest girlfriend. She never kept track. From what she had heard, his relationships lasted for a few weeks at most.
He stopped her from shutting the door. "Just let me know if you see them." He flashed her what she presumed was his most charming smile, eyes crinkling and teeth blindingly white. "Thank you so much, Imogen. You're an amazing friend, and I would truly appreciate it if—"
It didn't work on her. The door shut in his face.
"Hey!" came Isaac's muffled voice through the door. She ignored him.
It was crazy that they had been friends as kids. At least, that was what Rosemary had told her, and what she vaguely remembered from her childhood, when the Beauforts had visited the palace frequently. Over the years, however, House Beaufort had spent less and less time in Angeles. When they weren't at their lavish estate in Sota, they were almost definitely at their summer and winter homes. Only Aurora Beaufort attended every meeting, and as a result, Imogen never saw Isaac anymore.
Then again, she didn't exactly want to be best friends with a nineteen-year-old nobleman who didn't seem to care about the country.
Another knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.
She sighed, getting to her feet. "I don't know where they are, Isaac. Try—"
The person standing behind the door was Eden, looking at her with confusion.
"Oh." Imogen broke into a relieved smile, stepping aside. "Sorry, I thought you were Isaac. Is something up?" Judging by the time, she must've just come from Florence's office.
Eden lingered by the door. "Mother told me to drop off this schedule," she said, placing a stack of papers in Imogen's hands. "There are a few upcoming public events that she wanted to incorporate into the Selection. She wanted you to know."
"Great." Imogen flipped through the stack, seeing a calendar for the next two months and detailed descriptions of events. Event-organizing had never been her greatest strength, but Florence was the type to plan everything down to the smallest detail well in advance. "Thanks."
Eden looked like she was about to leave, but paused, turning back. "Wait, did you say Isaac?" she asked. "Why was he here?"
"He came by asking if I'd seen his siblings." She rolled her eyes. "I don't know how he managed to lose two children, but they sure aren't here."
"Oh. Yeah, I imagine not." Eden cleared her throat. "Anyways, who's on the date this afternoon?"
"Sir Martel, Sir Colin, and Sir Cade."
Eden's eyes lit up. "The ballet dancer?"
Was that genuine excitement in Eden's voice? Imogen glanced sideways at her. "Do you already have favorites or something?"
"No, of course not," Eden countered, though Imogen wasn't buying it. "I just find Martel Vanderbilt's profession interesting."
Of course she would. Eden had dreamed of being a contemporary dancer as a little girl, but it had been relegated to a hobby once they'd both grown older and stepped into their roles as princesses. Imogen knew her sister still frequented the dance studio, so a ballet dancer in the Selection was probably exciting to her, even if they wouldn't be able to interact too much.
Maybe she would be a bit nicer to Martel, then. Just for Eden.
"Let's hope this date goes well, so I don't have to send him home too soon," she joked.
Eden sobered up. "Honestly, Imogen, I don't think you have much of a choice."
The silence that followed hung uncomfortably in the air.
"Uh, anyways…" Eden fidgeted with the strands of her dark ponytail. "Take some nice pictures of the beach for me?" she offered.
Imogen rolled her eyes. "You know me and photography don't mix well."
The Angeles Post photographers were clicking away rapidly in the background as the Montano Seaside Lodge's general manager bowed to them. Again.
She had to admit, if the Council had been considering the press when making their selections for this date, they had chosen a group of photogenic men. She had told them to dress well, but slightly more casual since they would be at a beachside resort. Martel and Colin had listened to the guidelines, with Martel in a looser white button-down and Colin in a light-blue collared shirt with a simple tie. It made Imogen feel better about her own slightly simpler dress, which was long and black, but lightened with a cheerful white floral design.
Meanwhile, Cade seemed to have missed the "beachside" resort memo. He was dressed essentially identically to the first time they had spoken, with a well-tailored black suit the same shade as his button-down and dress pants. Even his gloves were black, completing the sleek, polished look.
At least he knew how to dress well—and he filled out the suit pretty nicely, she had to admit. His ensemble matched the color of her dress, so hopefully, the pictures wouldn't turn out too strange with such a drastic difference in style.
The manager, some relative of the CEO of Montano, was now shaking Cade's gloved hand, the last of the Selected. Judging by the fairly blank look on Cade's face, he wasn't too impressed. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sir Summersgill," the manager said. "I hope you enjoy the tour we are providing today."
Imogen shot him a smile. "Again, Mr. Montano, we're very grateful for the invitation—"
"And we are grateful for your presence, Your Highness," Mr. Montano cut in smoothly.
She gritted her teeth. "It is exciting to see the Lodge before it officially opens to the public. When will that be, again?"
"Later this month." Mr. Montano's chest puffed up with pride. "Of course, we already have a long waiting list for when we officially open. Our guest list will be full for the entire summer."
"It would be a major disappointment if it weren't," Colin said dryly. Imogen glanced at him in surprise. He hadn't exactly looked cheerful during the handshake, but the hostility hiding below the surface of his voice was far too apparent now.
He was trying to tone it down, at least.
Mr. Montano's eyes narrowed, but within seconds, his friendly, hospitality-oozing smile was back. "Naturally, Sir Eaton. Come this way, please. We will first visit some of the rooms."
As they made their way through the halls, Imogen noted the upscale decorations. This was not an average beach resort. If Montano was marketing the lodge towards the upper-class, it showed through with their ostentatious stylistic choices.
Mr. Montano unlocked a door on the highest floor, ushering them in. "Here we have one of our best suites. It has a great view of the ocean."
Imogen didn't have many hotels to compare it to, but the suite did look pretty nice. It was massive, with plenty of open space and furniture themed with white, silver, and blue. A glass door led to a balcony, and the room was filled with natural light from a window that filled the length of the wall.
Curious, she glanced towards the Selected. This place didn't hold a candle to the royal palace, but given that the Council chose these men, were they used to this sort of luxury already?
Cade's eyes were wider than when they had first arrived, his mouth slightly open, but he didn't say anything. Martel looked completely unimpressed, though he was observing the blue curtains curiously.
Colin, on the other hand, appeared far more worried about the cameramen beside the door than the interior design. As the other men spread out through the suite, looking around with Mr. Montano's explanations in the background, Imogen kept her eye on Colin. He didn't look comfortable with the cameras for someone who should have been used to the public spotlight. Media attention should have been normal to him, given that his father was the CEO of the successful hotel chain Eaton Enterprises.
Ah. Maybe that was why.
An unusual move from the Council: inviting Montano's rival's son to their event.
When they entered their next suite, which was equally luxurious, Imogen took the opportunity to approach Colin as Mr. Montano showed Cade and Martel the state-of-the-art bathtub.
"Sir Colin," she greeted. "I can't help but notice that you don't seem to be enjoying this date as much as the other two."
Colin turned to look at her. He was quiet for a moment. "You're observant, Your Highness."
"Is there any particular reason? I expected this to be your area of expertise."
Colin's eyes returned to the painting on the wall that depicted the beach. "Montano and Eaton Enterprises are rivals. My father has never particularly… gotten along with their CEO. Your Highness, if I may be so bold as to ask…" He paused, running a hand through his dark hair and turning back to her. "Why did you choose me to accompany you on this date?"
It was a valid question: one that Imogen couldn't answer.
So she improvised. "A king consort has to be capable of putting their personal feelings aside when interacting with others."
Colin's mouth pressed into a thin line. "I see." Shooting a look of disdain at the cameramen, he stepped away from the painting. "Is this a test?"
She had no idea what the Council's intentions were, but… "The entire Selection is a test of sorts."
Surprisingly, Colin cracked a smile at that. "You're not wrong about that, Your Highness," he said. He wandered off in the direction of his fellow Selected with a slightly less pained expression on his face. Would he keep it up for the cameras?
Many suites, meeting rooms, and fancy facilities later, they had arrived at what Imogen was most excited about: the hotel's restaurant. The patio overlooked the sea, with a glorious view of the sun that would soon dip below the horizon. She could hear the gentle crashing of waves against the beach as a light breeze blew through the air.
She wondered whether the nobles were trying to butter her up with food. First sushi, now expensive seafood.
She ended up between Cade and Martel on a round table set for four, with Colin directly in front of her. With a quick promise that their food would be coming soon, Mr. Montano disappeared, leaving Imogen alone with three of her Selected and an admittedly gorgeous view.
Colin was the first to speak. From what she had seen of them, he seemed like the most talkative of the trio. "The beaches here are gorgeous." He angled his chin in the direction of the waves. "Hansport's alright, but the weather here is nice all-year-round. The ocean should look like this more often."
"I second that," Cade said. "Yukon's more well-known for its mountains."
They were probably just trying to make small-talk and sneakily remind her of their home provinces, but Imogen bristled at the mention of Yukon.
"Both of you must be quite used to the cold," she said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Sir Martel, you're from a northern province too, aren't you? Labrador?"
"Originally from France, but yes."
It was one of the first times she was hearing Martel's French accent that afternoon. The ballet dancer, Eden would probably remind her. When he didn't continue, she asked, "So, what are your thoughts on this beach?"
Martel followed Colin's gaze out to the water. "My family spends most of our summer vacations in Mallorca. I prefer it there."
Cade was definitely surprised by that, judging by the widening of his eyes, though he quickly masked it. Even Colin appeared grudgingly impressed. She was, too. Sure, she had traveled to many places, but this province was still her primary residence. There was no way Angeles's waters could compare to Mallorca.
"But this is nice," Martel conceded. He looked almost wistful as he said, "Few experiences are as magical as walking along the beach during the sunset."
It was a little cheesy, but the sparkling sun's last few rays made Imogen inclined to agree. "We could take a walk after dinner," she suggested. Seeing Colin's eyebrows shoot up, she added, "All of us. If you want."
Martel's light blue eyes softened. "I would like that."
It was the closest to a smile that she would get.
"I'll pass," Cade said, grinning. "Too much sand for my taste."
"Well, I'll come," Colin jumped in, brushing his dark hair back with one hand as he lifted his chin. "I may not frequent Mallorca, but I've been to plenty of great beaches. I am skilled at surfing and paddle-boarding, too."
Irritation flickered across Martel's face so briefly that if Imogen had blinked, she might have missed it.
"What about you, Your Highness?" Cade asked. "You're the local."
He looked at her expectantly, but she shrugged. "I don't frequent the beaches as much as you'd expect. But I do like Angeles weather. As far as Illéan beaches go, however, I'm partial to the ones in Dominica."
If these men made the Elite, they might have a chance to visit the island province. She kept that quiet for now.
As their first course—braised Mediterranean octopus carpaccio—arrived, they settled into an uncomfortable silence. Once again, Colin was the one to break it. Imogen was happy to let him lead the conversation, as neither Cade nor Martel were contributing much. At the moment, the food was her priority.
Colin kept it up even through their buckwheat and potato gnocchi, and she occasionally answered any questions he threw her way as he regaled them with his life stories. Apparently, he had just graduated at the top of his class at Harvard.
It wasn't until a waiter was coming with their dessert after their smoked Pacific swordfish that Cade spoke. "Those are some impressive accomplishments. Your illustrious family background must have helped." As always, his charming grin was still there, though it didn't reach his eyes.
Colin stiffened. "I'd like to think that my own work and persistence paid off."
Even the waiter seemed to notice the sudden tension, as he dashed off immediately after announcing their Japanese-style cheesecake with grapefruit curd and citrus.
"Looks delicious," Imogen said, hoping they would quiet down. Instead, Colin seemed to be trying to burn a hole in Cade's face with his eyes, while Cade looked unbothered. Suppressing an eye-roll, she dug into her dessert carefully.
Dessert had always been her favorite part of any meal, and the cheesecake was no exception. She wondered if she could request for the palace staff to recreate this. But even after Cade and Colin had finally returned their attention to the food, Martel's was untouched.
Seeing her questioning gaze, he explained, "I'm lactose-intolerant."
"Oh, I see." That information was probably on his health records, not on the form she had access to. For a moment, she wondered what else she didn't know about her Selected.
After the meal was over and Colin and Cade had stopped glaring at each other, Imogen glanced back out to the water. The sun looked like it would set at any moment.
"Should we go for a walk?" she asked.
"I changed my mind," Colin said. "I'll stay here."
Cade looked like he was about to jump for joy at that news. But Martel's eyes genuinely lit up. "Sure."
Along the Montano Seaside Lodge's private stretch of beach was a convenient paved path, dotted with lamps that provided some light every few meters. Martel followed slightly behind her as they walked along the path. The evening air was chillier than typical daytime Angeles, and for a moment, with the breeze blowing through her hair, Imogen felt at peace.
"It's nice, isn't it?" she asked, wrapping her arms around herself.
Martel nodded, breathing deeply in the sea air. "It is."
She turned her attention to the horizon. It was a beautiful sight, but painfully similar to the view of the sunset from August's apartment, where they had spent many nights on the balcony, all smiles and laughter and gentle touches.
And as the sun sank, so did her heart.
I wanted to wish an early happy birthday to GreenWithAwesome, Jack's creator. Green, you're one of my biggest writing inspirations and truly a legend in this fandom. You're also a fantastic hypeman and I appreciate your support both in this fic and back in TAAS. Sorry there was no Cack content this chapter, but I promise it'll come eventually ;) Hope you have the greatest day tomorrow! Everyone else, you should totally read Green's fic The Rebound and The Rink (and its predecessor The Selection and The Spy) for crazy hockey shenanigans, realistic political issues, the meme-iest SYOC submission ever (totally not mine wdym), and one hell of an emotional rollercoaster.
Oh, and since this is my first update in the month of June: happy pride month! ( Llama, French, Green, and Berry: Yes, Vasilios is still straight.)
Anyways, today's chapter was on the longer side! The next one should be shorter; I might even be able to get it out by next week, if y'all want? :o What were your thoughts on this chapter? The lesson ft. info-dumps? Elias? Isaac Beaufort? The group date trio?
Thanks for reading!
Until next time,
—Rysa