Faith.

Faith was with her fiancé, Crown Prince Sigfrig Draycott, in the gardens, and she didn't understand what was wrong with him. He was extremely agitated, constantly insulting Bianca L'Crom.

"But why are you talking about that student? She's in my sister's class. Her family isn't important. What did she do that upset you so much?"

"Do to me?" He stiffened, furious. "Do to me? That rude girl has no idea what her place is or the respect she owes me. How dare she reject the great honor I bestowed upon her?"

"Honor? What honor?"

Faith was getting more and more annoyed. Her fiancé was capricious and fickle. It had taken a lot of work, being the most promising student in her year as well as the daughter of one of the most powerful and ancient noble families in the kingdom, to become his fiancée. Because being beautiful and being who she was wasn't enough. She'd had to flatter him and put up with his insipid conversation for three long academy years. And her task continued.

The things one had to do to become queen…

That's why she was feeling growing suspicion toward Bianca. If that girl was pathetically chasing after the second prince, just like her loser sister Sol, why was Sigfrig so angry? What had he offered her?

She decided she needed more information. She'd been listening to her fiancé for a while now, and he wasn't telling her anything clear. She'd have to talk to Sol. Maybe she could clarify something.

By the way, he hadn't answered her question about what honor—instead, he'd gone back to insulting Bianca.

"Honey, calm down," she asked after a while. "Whatever she did to you, she's not worth your time. Let's go back inside."

It took her a few minutes to convince him. When they reached the great hall, they realized everyone was talking about the same thing: Vincent's engagement to Bianca.

Faith wasn't expecting it, and apparently neither was her fiancé. He choked back a gasp, his face twisting with unmistakable rage.

"Are you all right?" Faith asked, playing her eternal role of the loving girlfriend worried about her fiancé.

But he didn't even answer. He went to talk to his mother, breaking several etiquette rules in the process of reaching her.

Faith watched as the queen shot him a withering look, composed a kind but firm smile, and told him to accompany her to another room to chat.

She, who was dying to find out what was happening with her fiancé, stayed in the ballroom using all her composure so her worry and nerves wouldn't show.

As much as she wanted to follow them, she couldn't since they hadn't invited her to join.

What was wrong with Sigfrig? Could it be possible that it had to do with him not expecting Bianca's engagement?

And if so, why did it affect him that Bianca was going to marry his brother?

There was something weird here that she didn't like at all.

Now she really needed more information.

She decided that, in addition to her sister Sol, she'd sound out the queen and, depending on what she saw, maybe ask Erika Laltiery for help making life impossible for the girl who seemed to be becoming her new sister-in-law.

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Damien.

Damien had arranged to meet Kai Greylark in the gardens to attack Mary when they could catch her alone, even if it was when the young woman returned to her room. However, Sol was planning to set things up for them by separating her from her friends, making it easier for them.

Damien had initially planned to take something from Ronan's room to frame him for the assault. However, considering that when he'd gone to his room he hadn't even been able to plant the curse pouch, theft had been the last thing on his mind as he fled the room.

That was an inconvenience, since they wouldn't be able to frame Ronan, but they were still going to continue with the plan to attack Mary. However, Damien changed his mind when, after the meeting in the library, he was left alone with his father.

"It has to be him, the Chosen One," his father was saying, excited.

They were walking toward their carriage, through the deserted hallways of the building where the ball wasn't being held.

Clearly, from what he'd heard at the meeting, his father didn't see Ronan as a threat but as a valuable ally.

And he had gone to considerable trouble, with that sealing spell, to make sure no one could hear what was discussed there.

"I don't understand how you're so sure. It's not like he's the only necromancer in the world," he dared to tell his father.

"Damien, sometimes I wonder if you've truly studied the Dark Sacred Scriptures."

"Uh, of course, Father."

The truth was, not very much. His father was obsessed with his Church. Damien was young. He just wanted to have fun.

The thing with Mary, for example, was going to be fun.

"Then you know there are several indicators. Can you list them?" the count asked as he stopped to stare his offspring directly in the eyes.

Damien swallowed and hurried to remember. There were, how many signs? Five? Or were there three?

"The bluish-black marks on the face are the most significant. They're proof that our Lord has selected him among all dark magic users."

Fortunately, that one was easy to remember. There was a drawing in the scripture book of a man with parchment-like skin tattooed with those lines. It had been so aesthetically striking that it had stuck in his memory.

"Among others," his father clarified, somewhat disappointed. "Remember: the Chosen One will possess the most destructive spell, one that attracts all matter, causing a hole in the fabric of existence that only the void can fill. The Chosen One's aura will intensify, jet-black flames will emerge from his body, and from his hand will be generated the definitive and final spell."

Damien shifted his weight from one foot to the other, uncomfortable. That rang a bell. In fact, it sounded suspiciously like that terrifying spell Ronan had tried to cast on him, the one he'd fled from by throwing himself out the window.

"Father, it can't be."

"Yes, it can. He is the Chosen One and he's coming with us to our Church's Headquarters."

"Understood, Father."

"Good, then let's continue."

"Father," he hesitated, "may I excuse myself for a moment to say goodbye to a friend?"

"The one you had plans with?"

"Yes, Father."

"Fine. Don't be long."

Damien thanked him and hurried to find Kai. He had to tell him he'd changed his mind, that he wasn't going to do anything to Mary.

The reason, which he wasn't planning to share, was simple: he had to see with his own eyes if Ronan really was the Chosen One. If so, he was definitely willing to forgive him for scaring him and making him jump out the window. Even to hate him a little less. After all, he couldn't blame him for having that high affinity if God himself had granted it to him.

(He'd broken his legs, but if he didn't stay at the academy once healed, which was quick, it was because his father, after hearing him talk about Ronan, took him back to the family mansion. It seemed he didn't trust his own son not to make some other mistake with his roommate. Now he understood why.)

And that was true—hatred was one thing, envy another. For Damien, in Ronan's case, the two had been linked until then. If he really was God's Chosen One, his envy would only fester further.

Well, if there was even the slightest possibility that Ronan was Him, he wasn't going to lay a finger on any of his friends.

He wasn't crazy.

"You're going to ditch me?" Kai protested in the garden area where they'd arranged to meet, once Damien had told him.

"Yes, I have to leave with my father."

"Sol will be angry."

"Sol can't say anything about this. I don't care if she gets angry."

"Well, I care. I'll do it myself."

"Suit yourself. I don't want anything to do with it."

Damien left, noticing that Kai was pretty angry. For a moment he thought about whether to advise him not to mess with Ronan. But no, that wouldn't be fun. He was sure that when he got back from fall break, he'd find out what Ronan would do to him as a consequence of attacking his friend. He laughed to himself and left.

He left Kai cursing out loud and didn't notice there was a little bird on a nearby tree branch, one that had been there during the entire conversation and was watching them with the glassy eyes of a zombie. Nor did he notice that, once he'd left, the little bird did the same but in the opposite direction. Straight toward where the yeti was.

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