Born to Kill the King: A Game of Masks

CHAPTER 1

Morning at the academy arrived without gentleness, as if the place itself believed hesitation was a flaw that needed to be trained out of its students as early as possible. Pale sunlight spilled across the high marble arches and wide courtyard, turning the polished stone paths into ribbons of reflected gold while banners bearing the crests of noble families stirred lazily in the cool air. The academy always looked beautiful at this hour. Controlled, impressive, untouchable. It was almost convincing enough to make you forget that every person walking through these gates was here for the same reason.

Power.

Clusters of students filled the courtyard in carefully arranged circles, their voices low and measured as conversations drifted between strategy and gossip. Some laughed too loudly, some listened too carefully, and others pretended they weren’t watching anyone at all. It was a delicate performance that everyone seemed to understand instinctively, and I had learned quickly that the most dangerous people here were rarely the loudest ones. I moved through the crowd at an unhurried pace, pretending the morning felt ordinary even though the memory of my conversation with Sebastian still lingered like a quiet echo beneath my thoughts. His words had followed me into sleep and out of it again, repeating themselves with irritating persistence.

A real chance to be chosen.

The Royal Court was never discussed openly within academy walls, yet its presence shaped everything. It lingered behind lessons, behind rivalries, behind every carefully crafted friendship. Every achievement here was measured against a future that existed beyond the gates, and everyone knew that only a handful of names would ever make it that far. I told myself I wasn’t thinking about his offer but immediately failed.

“You’re walking like you didn’t sleep.”

His voice reached me before I saw him, familiar enough that I didn’t startle, though the awareness of his presence settled beneath my ribs faster than I liked to admit. I turned slowly, already expecting him, and found Sebastian standing a few steps away as though the morning had arranged itself around his arrival.

In daylight, he was impossible to ignore.

It wasn’t just his appearance, though, that alone drew attention without effort. Dark hair fell in loose, deliberate disorder across his forehead, softening features that would have looked too sharp if they had been perfectly composed. The academy uniform, identical in design to everyone else’s, seemed subtly altered by the way he wore it, the fabric fitting his shoulders and frame with a precision that suggested tailoring rather than regulation. What truly set him apart, however, was the reaction of the people around him. Students didn’t stop talking when he approached. They didn’t stare openly or whisper his name. Instead, the flow of movement adjusted almost imperceptibly, conversations shifting just enough to create space as he moved through the courtyard. It was the kind of influence that didn’t need to be announced because everyone already understood it. He carried himself like someone who had never needed permission to belong.

“I slept,” I replied calmly, though the answer felt incomplete even to me.

“Seems that not well enough,” he said, his tone teasing, the faint curve of his mouth suggesting he already knew.

I folded my arms, refusing to give him the satisfaction of confirmation. “You seem very confident in your observations.”

“I pay attention to patterns,” he answered lightly. “Yours are predictable when you’re distracted.”

“And I suppose you believe I am distracted now.”

“I believe you’re thinking about what I said.”

The certainty in his voice made denial pointless. That cocky bastard. He didn’t even sound unsure of himself.

“We didn’t finish that conversation,” I said instead.

“I know.”

Students continued to pass behind him, their footsteps echoing softly against the stone, yet the space between us felt oddly insulated from the rest of the courtyard. His attention never wavered, steady in a way that felt less like curiosity and more like calculation.

“You mentioned a closed evaluation before the official Court trials,” I continued, lowering my voice slightly. “A private selection.”

“Yes.” He confirmed it, yet his gaze never left my face, studying me as if trying to understand what part of the conversation still required reassurance when all the important answers had already been given.

“And you said you could secure an invitation.”

“I did.”

Now it was me who studied his expression carefully, searching for signs of exaggeration or arrogance and finding neither. If anything, his composure made the claim more unsettling.

“Why me?” I simply asked. The question lingered between us long enough that I almost wondered if he would refuse to answer.

Finally, he spoke. “Because you don’t waste energy trying to be seen,” he said quietly. “You observe first. You choose carefully. You move when the outcome matters.”

The words landed with uncomfortable accuracy.

“You’ve been watching me,” I said while my eyes narrowed.

“I’ve been noticing you.”

There was a difference, and we both knew it. Around us, the courtyard continued its steady rhythm of movement and conversation, yet awareness prickled faintly at the back of my mind. Being seen beside Sebastian was never neutral. It suggested alignment, whether intended or not.

“What exactly are you offering?” I asked.

“A place on the preliminary list,” he said. “A chance to compete before the public trials begin.”

“And what do you gain from that? You’re not doing this out of the kindness of your heart after all. I am not stupid to think that.”

A spark lit his eyes, and his lips curved into a nearly invisible smirk. His gaze held mine, steady and unwavering. “Of course not. You will be my ally.”

The word carried weight.

“That sounds suspiciously like loyalty.” The words I let slip into the open air felt deadlier than any blade ever forged. And I didn't quite like that.

“It sounds like strategy.”

His quick replies were starting to frustrate me. I took a few seconds before I responded, chewing on my bottom lip a bit agitated.

“And if I refuse?”

“Then someone else receives the opportunity.” Again, quick, sharp, without any hesitation, stripped of embellishment. His reply came like a flash of lightning. Of course, opportunity didn’t wait. It replaced. I should have expected that.

The morning bell rang overhead, sharp and commanding, yet neither of us moved as the surrounding students began drifting toward the academy halls.

“You have until tonight to decide,” Sebastian said. “After that, the list is finalized.” He didn’t pressure me. He didn’t try to convince me. But the real question was: if he wanted me there—if he wanted me as his ally—why wasn’t he trying harder?

I watched him for a moment longer, weighing the certainty in his voice against the risk in his offer.

The Royal Court had always felt distant, like a destination meant for other people’s ambitions rather than my own. Yet standing here, with the possibility placed directly in front of me, distance no longer felt like safety. It felt like hesitation.

Sebastian stepped back first, breaking the fragile stillness between us.

“Think carefully, Kelilah,” he said quietly. “This academy rewards the bold.”

Then he turned and disappeared into the moving crowd, leaving the courtyard louder than it had felt moments before.

I remained where I was, the echo of his words settling heavily in my chest.

The choice in front of me was simple.

Say yes and step closer to power.

Or walk away and wonder who would take the place meant for me.

And yet, the conversation refused to sit comfortably in my mind. A quiet, insistent voice kept warning me that Sebastian had not told me the whole truth. Because in the end, what could he possibly gain from making me his ally?