Outside of the room, I stood in a state of shock, trying to process everything. A brief revisit of my options threw up the same results. Any attempted escape at this point would achieve nothing. I probably wouldn’t make it over the high walls of the academy, let alone off the planet. What it would do would draw further scrutiny and less trust.

  No, the trick would be to appear as though I’d accepted my lot in life. I had approximately sixty-two days before the portal on Unalar closed, and I was in a place of learning.

  I took in the impressive hallway. Wide, arched windows let in an abundance of light from the gardens. Everything was well maintained to the highest level. It looked like a good place. Clean and fresh, and so far, I’d been treated well. It could be the perfect place to learn portals.

  Decision made, I marched back down the corridor with purpose. Heels clicking, arms swinging the appropriate amount. All anyone would see was someone who belonged here. Apart from the rags.

  When I returned to the reception, the Archon behind the desk narrowed his eyes at me, hostile and silent.

  “From the Dean,” I said with as little emotion as possible as I handed over the note.

  He scanned it, looked even more unhappy, then tapped on a small, milky white stone set in the dark wood of the desk. Six taps in total. Three short, two long, one short. Then he filed away the parchment and proceeded to ignore me.

  I stood, waiting and hoping that I wouldn’t have to point out how monumentally rude they were being. The Warden had definitely put me at a disadvantage with how he had spoken to the receptionist, but I didn’t want to have to make that worse on my first hour here.

  Moments later, an Archon appeared from one of the many corridors that led away from the entrance area. I had to fight to stop my jaw hitting the floor. She was breathtakingly beautiful, dressed in a tight-fitting, navy uniform, with gold thread at the seams and the Academy Emblem on the chest. I was mesmerized by her as she crossed the hall with straight-backed elegance. Alien or not, I wanted to know more.

  Name: Aeloria Besas

  Title: Scion of House Besas – Irala Prefect 1st year

  Level: 21

  Class: Warrior/Mage

  A Warrior Mage like me! A good conversation starter, I reckoned. Though I was suddenly and painfully aware of the rags I wore. I hadn’t seen my hair since I left Earth, but I couldn’t imagine after being burned off over two weeks ago that it was a visual treat. I suppose I should have counted myself lucky that she seemed completely and utterly oblivious to my presence.

  As I considered the mechanics and possibilities of interracial romances should I be able to tidy myself up enough, she marched to the reception desk.

  “How may I be of assistance?”

  Her voice was at odds with her appearance. Devoid of inflection or emotion, she could have been an android.

  In reply and with a truly bitter expression, the receptionist indicated me. “In her infinite wisdom, the Dean has permitted a late addition to the Novice year group. This… male of unknown racial origin is to be housed with the other…” He gave me another withering look. “…He is to be housed in dorm 14A. Would you please escort him to his new quarters.”

  The woman, who I suspected might have been a fellow student despite the ageless appearance, had her hands on her hips and was glaring at me like I’d massacred her whole family. “What madness is this? A Level 16 introduced so late in the year? It makes no sense.”

  “Yet,” the receptionist drawled slowly, “that is exactly what the Dean has requested after receiving a special request from House Garazal.”

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  That seemed to get under Scion Aeloria’s skin. “Is that so? My father will be very interested in hearing this development.”

  “I have no doubt,” the receptionist agreed, and I saw a light of victory in their eyes.

  I couldn’t know for sure, but I suspected I’d already blundered into the center of some political situation between these houses. I just hoped it didn’t become a problem for me.

  “Very well,” she said to the receptionist, then turned back to me with a look bordering disgust. “You may follow me. Please remain a least five paces behind me at all times.”

  What could I say? A thousand things sprung to mind, but none of them were pleasant. I kept my expression neutral and nodded.

  Satisfied, she spun on her heel and marched off down the same corridor she’d arrived from. Despite my initial awe at how incredible she looked, I had such a seething hatred of snotty, self-important bastards.

  Now all I saw was the self-important walk. The rigid set of her shoulders. The arrogant swish of her ponytail. The mesmerizing sway of her hips. Fuck. I still hated her, and would make an effort to avoid any future interaction.

  Instead of focusing on her, I tried to memorize the routes we were taking. I figured at some point that I’d be left to my own devices, and I’d need to know my way around this warren. I counted turns from the reception and took note of landmarks until we finally arrived at room 14. The numerals were there, but there was no A in sight. Slowly turning, she gestured to the door.

  “This is where you are staying. Someone in their infinite wisdom has decided they would treat you like Archons. You are not an Archon. You will never be an Archon. We are an ancient and powerful race who many consider to be the chosen of the universe.”

  I wonder who thinks that, I thought as she pushed the door open, and I entered.

  “Do you not speak? Or are you too simple to articulate an adequate response?”

  I mulled it over and frowned. “What’s there to say?”

  She huffed. “Simple courtesy would suffice. An acknowledgment that I have just guided you to your room.”

  “You were made to do it. If you’re looking for thanks, go back to the reception and demand it there.” I cursed myself immediately. So much for keeping a low profile. Her expression changed to one of complete and utter bewilderment. I guessed my smartarse response didn’t land right with her.

  “What manner of wretch are you?”

  “Are we finished?” I asked flatly. Then without any idea of what awaited behind me, I slowly closed the door, holding her outraged eye contact until the door blocked the awkward standoff.

  To my relief, she didn’t cause any more drama and let me close the door.

  With a sigh, I turned to take in my new dorms. I half-expected there to be someone in there, watching the exchange and more than willing to continue it in defense of my tour guide. But it was empty.

  The walls were whitewashed, with four beds evenly spaced, and a cool seating area in the center of the room with three couches in a u-shape surrounding a low table.

  It was a clean room, but there were belongings scattered about here and there. I inspected each bed and found that they all showed signs of being occupied.

  I shrugged. The soft leather couches looked comfortable enough, especially after two weeks of sleeping on hard floors.

  At the back of the room, there was a food prep area. Nothing much, just a long, smooth, white counter with an inbuilt sink. There was nowhere to cook, which I found odd, but it was my first few minutes here. I was certain all would become clear in time.

  There were a few wooden containers on the worktop, and I lifted the lids on them. In the first, there was fruit. Not normally my go to food, but then beggars can’t be choosers. And after twelve days sustained only by the magic that was also torturing me, followed by three days of eating one bowl of stew a day after hard labor, I had the kind of deep hunger that superseded preference.

  I wanted calories, and I didn’t care where I got them from. None of the fruit looked familiar, and I didn’t want to poison myself eating something that needed to be cooked first, so I held off for a moment and checked the second container.

  Joy! The unbridled kind. A hunk of bread sat in the bottom looking about as beautiful as any half loaf of bread I’d ever seen.

  The temptation was there to just pick the gorgeous little bundle up and tuck in. But I didn’t want to totally alienate myself with my room mates before they got here. I found a cutlery drawer under the unit and found a knife to cut myself a couple of slices.

  Quickly returning everything as it was, I had a vain hope of no one noticing that the bread had diminished.

  Satisfied that I’d covered my tracks, I carried the remaining slice of bread I hadn’t already scarfed, and sat on the closest couch to eat it in comfort.

  After eating, I tried to relax and prepare for the arrival of my new roommates. I had to make a good impression. That much was sure.

  But the longer I sat, the heavier my eyelids grew. I was exhausted after having not slept properly for some time now. I got up and splashed water on my face. Did a few stretches and sat down again, feeling fresher and more alert.

  The next thing I knew, I was blinking rapidly, heart beating like a drum as I was torn from sleep by a booming voice.

  “What in Grogir’s second arsehole is this?”

  For a few seconds, I didn’t have a clue where I was. As my vision cleared and finally linked up to my mind, I found a strapping Grunir standing over me, fists clenched like hams, and a long, brown beard that quivered with indignation.