THIRD YEAR
(Madison’s pov)
Waking up in our dorm room as third-year candidates did not feel much different from the previous two years, now we’re the scum under the toilet seat. Instructors’ treatment did not change; we were greeted with loud voices and spit-laced words, constantly reminding us that intimidation was their key to motivation. How original.
Finishing our first week, everyone talked about the mating ball because the palace was known for holding extravagant events, but I convinced myself that I was not interested. There was only one male I wanted, but he didn’t want me.
Slithering into the bedroom with sore muscles, we stood in the entryway staring at a large box on the bed and a red rose placed on a pillow. Opening the box, a blood red velvet dress and heels took m
