Page 10 of Stormbreaker

Then he addresses me. “You two look after each other, okay? This place can be really lonely and tough sometimes.”

“Of course,” I say as Trinity nods. We’ve always looked out for each other. Nothing will ever change that.

Edward and Trinity exchange a few more parting words, while I scan the courtyard, spotting some familiar faces.

Some unfamiliar ones, as well.

Namely, students from New Manhattan’s other three Houses.

When the original members of The Shield first created the Houses three hundred years ago, they did so to help build a world resistant to the mistakes of the past. By making each member of Society responsible for the success and prosperity of their chosen House’s duties, they’ve ensured we’d never fall prey to the greed and hubris that destroyed civilization in the Warming Age.

Where profit and productivity once defined how people lived, we now enjoy a world where our basic needs are met, and Houses Fiama, Aria, Asale, and Tera can prioritize the greater good.

I spot a few students bearing the anatomical heart crests of House Aria on their jackets. They look over, their eyes narrowing.

Aria is responsible for the health of our population, both mental and physical. They’re also tasked with ensuring our people’s sustainability, since the aftermath of the Warming Age left us with limited space and resources. Thus, they must walk the delicate balance between ensuring everyone has enough to live while also ensuring birth rates don’t surpass what the city can reasonably accommodate.

That means Fiama must often work in tandem with Aria, given they’re both responsible for keeping everyone safe in their own ways. The result is a struggle for power that causes plenty of strife between our Houses. My father loathes Aria’s scion, Surreal Beaufort, a terrifying woman with a mane of dark hair streaked with white. Sometimes I think their feud has gone beyond their work and has become personal.

In the far corner, I spot a small group of teens scanning us with uncertain looks. Though they wear the same Amery black and silver, they aren’t quite as polished or enthusiastic. Their hair is free of purple accents, and they all look extremely nervous. Cogs.

Technically, anyone in New Manhattan can attend Amery; however, The Shield only covers tuition for Society kids. But cog families often run profitable businesses and aspire to more.

There are two primary ways to join a House and become a member of Society. The first is to be invited by a scion. The other is to send your child to Amery and hope they can earn a pledge.

I catch the eye of a girl with medium-brown skin and long black hair that falls in soft waves around her shoulders. I offer a little wave to hopefully ease some of her tension. It takes her a moment to realize I’m addressing her, and she returns the tiniest smile.

“Poet,” says Mrs. Robins, wrapping me in a hug. “We’ll miss you both so much.”

“We won’t be far,” I say, squeezing her tightly as a knot expands in my chest.

“I know, but it won’t be the same, will it?”

She’s been like a mother to me when my own couldn’t be the one I needed. It’s not the same as having my parents here, but I suppose it’s the next best thing.

After another round of goodbyes, the parents hop into their gondola to return home. A moment later, our friends Silver and Hazel wander over. Silver is aptly named, with her long platinum hair streaked with deep purple, while Hazel sports a mass of pale lilac curls.

We embrace in a flurry of excited squeals, chattering about our classes and options, upcoming parties, and nights out.

I spot Knox, hovering near the wall, with his arm draped around Winter Jenkins, his posture languid. It’s like he’s incapable of standing up on his own strength.

I recall my father grumbling about Winter’s dad at breakfast. Cameron Jenkins has been attempting to undermine my father ever since he was sworn in as scion, angling for the position himself.

When Knox spots me, he unwinds himself and strides over, his gaze traveling from head to toe. I never understand what he sees when he looks at me.

When we were younger, we were friends. We even liked each other. He would flatter me, telling me I was smart and pretty and that he couldn’t wait to marry me.

Apparently, not pretty enough, because I clearly fell short. We were seven­teen when we had sex, a decision I’ve regretted every day.

In my naivete, I thought maybe he’d be loyal to me if I caved to his needs. The very next day, he hooked up with someone else, and I haven’t touched him or anyone else that way since.

“Poet,” he says, snagging my wrist. I tense up, but if he notices, he doesn’t care.

This is another thing I hate about Knox. He doesn’t want me but still wants everyone to know I’m his. Despite my apparent shortcomings, I’m still the daughter of one of the most powerful men in New Manhattan. Knox’s entire future relies on me, and while that offers a certain kind of value, it isn’t worth much.

He tugs me over to his circle of friends, his arm claiming my shoulders as he leans heavily against me like I’m here just to prop him up, both literally and figuratively. I take a calming breath.

“Knox!” exclaims Lacey, flicking her long blond hair over one shoulder. “Will you sit with me at dinner tonight?”