Abruptly, his expression shuttered again. “Those aren’t my friends,” he said, turning away. “Come on, we’re going to be late.” And he loped off, leaving her two steps behind.

Jaya

“Correct archery technique is something you can only learn with practice,” Ms. Bayer said from the front of the class. “And from listening in lecture. Therefore, I expect you to give me your undivided attention whenever you’re in class. I don’t care if you’re sick, if you’re missing home, or if you went against your better instincts and ate the deviled eggs from the dining hall. If you thought this was going to be an easy elective, I am sorry you were misinformed.”

An ex–Olympic gold medalist, Ms. Bayer was an intimidating woman. Though she was slender and on the shorter side, you could tell she had shoulder and arm muscles that could snap your neck in half if you just looked at her wrong. According to her, her genetic makeup was “fifty percent Nigerian, fifty percent Iranian, and one hundred percent all-American badass. Yes, I’m aware that adds up to two hundred percent and no, that’s not a mistake. I don’t make mistakes. Do not test me.” Jaya didn’t think anyone had any intention to.

Grey was sitting beside her at the double desk, scribbling in his notebook. Jaya cleared her throat as Ms. Bayer turned to the whiteboard to write something. “That was quite intense,” she said, laughing quietly.

Grey looked up from his notebook. “Yes. But she really knows what she’s talking about.” He went back to scribbling again.

Hmm. With his cryptic nature, he might be a tougher nut to crack than she’d originally given him credit for. Jaya playfully leaned in. “So, what are you doing? Writing in your diary?”

Grey pulled the book closer to his body. “Nothing.”

Jaya sat back up in her seat, watching him from the corner of her eye thoughtfully. What secrets was Lord Northcliffe guarding so closely?

Grey

There was no way it was a coincidence that Jaya Rao was in every one of his classes. And yet, when she asked to sit beside him in every class, instead of immediately saying no and distancing himself, he’d said yes every single time. Why? Because he was an idiot. There was something about her wavy black hair, her full mouth that tipped so easily into a smile. The way she possessed a self-assured grace as she moved through the world, relaxed in the knowledge that she owned all she saw and that which she didn’t own yet, she would eventually.