CHAPTER 2: GLASS SHARDS AND THE SILVER SHADOW
1198 Words
"Belle. Belle!"
A sharp tap to my arm pulled me back to reality. One of the kitchen aides frowned at me, her eyes on the plate trembling in my hands.
"You're going to drop that."
I blinked fast, disoriented. "Right. Sorry," I mumbled, setting the plate down in the drying rack.
My hands were cold—not from the water, but from something else I couldn't name. Fatigue, probably. Or hunger. Or the usual lack of sleep.
By the time I left the kitchen, students were already streaming in through the arched corridors—flawless, perfumed, and not smelling like dish soap and frying oil. I kept my head down and walked fast, hoping to disappear into the crowd.
But as I turned a corner—
"Ugh. Look what the rats dragged out of the kitchen."
Clarisse.
I stopped. Not because I was surprised—I never was—but because I had no other way around.
She stood with her arms folded, her golden curls perfectly arranged in a style I could never dream of affording. Beside her was Genevieve, her twin, who leaned against the marble wall with a smirk.
"Did you burn your fingers again?" Clarisse sneered, gesturing at my hands. "They look red. Maybe they’ll finally fall off."
"Or maybe someone will mistake her for one of the stray cats she feeds," Genevieve added.
I said nothing. I never did.
Then suddenly someone is speaking in the speakers across the academy.
"Attention velmire students, there will be a assembly in auditorium. There will be important announcent to be discussed. Please gather now in auditorium."
I look at the passing students while they go in the auditorium. Its a mandatory to go, punishment will happen if you dont go.
"Where are you off to, Cinderella? Assembly?" Clarisse scoffed. "Try not to sit anywhere near us. You might bring the value of our seats down."
They walked past me, the click of their shoes echoing down the corridor. I stayed there for a moment, frozen.
Then I turned and went the opposite way.
I wish Lira is here, but at the moment she is busy. She didnt make it clear but she said its family problem that she have to go home but she will be back soon. Promising me a she will bring something delicious for me to eat.
That girl is the only the one who makes me a happy life and thrilling in this academy.
The auditorium was already half-full when I arrived. I sat in the farthest back row, where the lights didn’t quite reach, and pulled my jacket tighter around me.
Today was no ordinary assembly. The teachers had been unusually tense since this morning—whispering about the guests arriving from the palace. Observers, they called them.
They were here to assess the academy's “functionality.”
Whatever that meant.
I wasn't worried about the school. Velmire Royal Academy was spotless, gilded, and far too obsessed with appearances. They’d pass any inspection.
But my stomach churned for another reason.
There was something in the air today. I couldn’t name it, but it sat heavy in my chest, like I was waiting for something to go wrong.
Maybe it was just another headache coming on.
Up on stage, the headmaster droned on about academic excellence, conduct, and all the usual speeches that blurred into white noise. The crowd around me shifted—some bored, some pretending to look attentive.
Then the auditorium doors opened again.
And everything shifted.
A boy stepped in, flanked by two staff members. He was tall, mascular, dark-haired, Silver eyes, and carried himself like he didn't need to look twice at anyone. Students whispered instantly, curious, excited, speculative.
Silver trim lined his uniform. A new transfer.
A rare occurrence, and rarer still for Silver Tier students.
He didn’t glance at the crowd. He simply walked to the reserved row near the front, sat down, and said nothing.
But I noticed him.
Not because of his looks—though he was striking—but because of the weight he seemed to carry with him. The room felt colder after he walked in.
I stared for a second too long.
Then looked away.
Orion Leonhart.
That was the name I heard whispered by the girls behind me.
I didn’t say it aloud. Didn’t even say it in my head.
Because names like his didn’t belong in worlds like mine.
The murmurs swelled when the headmaster paused mid-sentence and glanced down at the newly seated student.
“Ah, yes. Before I continue,” he said, adjusting his collar, “we have a special guest joining our student body.”
The spotlight shifted, casting a cold glow on the boy now sitting alone near the front.
“Please welcome Orion Leonhart.”
Some clapped. Most just watched.
I didn’t move.
Orion didn’t either. He didn’t stand. Didn’t bow. Just remained still—unbothered by the dozens of eyes that turned toward him.
The headmaster cleared his throat and continued.
“Orion comes to us from a private academy in the North. He’s been granted special enrollment under the Silver Tier by direct recommendation of the Royal Palace.”
Whispers again. Not just from students, but even some of the faculty seated along the side.
The Royal Palace.
I felt my stomach twist.
“Mr. Leonhart will be with us for an indefinite period,” the headmaster went on, carefully choosing each word. “He’s not only here as a student, but also as an internal observer. He has been granted leave to evaluate aspects of academy life as part of a developing program under the Crown’s guidance.”
A student… and a spy.
That wasn’t what he said exactly, but that’s what it sounded like.
Some girls giggled behind their hands. Others were already whispering theories—some about his bloodline, some about who he might be connected to in the palace.
I stayed silent.
Watched.
Waited.
I didn’t like the way the air felt anymore. It was too still. Too rehearsed.
The headmaster moved on, returning to the rest of the announcements.
But the room had shifted.
Every now and then, I glanced toward the front—just enough to catch his silhouette in the bright light. He hadn’t moved since sitting down.
When the assembly finally ended and the students began to rise, I waited, letting the crowd pass first. I didn’t want to be seen. I rarely did.
But as I stood and turned to leave—
I froze.
Because from across the room, through the thinning bodies and flickering light—
He was looking at me.
Not at the stage. Not at the door.
At me.
Our eyes met.
Only for a second.
But it was enough.
I couldn’t explain it. The look wasn’t threatening. Not exactly. But it felt too sharp. Too knowing.
Like he saw something he wasn’t supposed to.
I dropped my gaze and walked quickly out the back door.
My heart beat too loudly in my ears.
Something about him wasn’t right.
And I didn’t know why—but I had the sinking feeling…
He’d be the reason everything started to fall apart.
- Writer
