That’s how long it had been since I became Eamon Riggs, since I stepped off that train and since I arrived at Ravenshore Academy.
Twenty-four hours of itchy clothes, dry bread and the kind of cold that sank into your bones and clawed at your soul. I scratched discreetly at my collarbone, trying not to draw attention to myself.
The binding across my chest was growing increasingly uncomfortable, and I would have given anything- absolutely anything – for a hot shower to rinse away the grime of travel and fear that clung to my skin.
But Ravenshore Academy had other plans.
The prestigious institution that had produced the best Alphas in our world, including my father, was nothing like the gleaming citadel of learning I’d imagined. We’d arrived at Ravenshore long after dark and dumped onto the frost-bitten field outside the Academy.
Instead of warm welcomes or welcome feasts and comfortable dormitories, we’d been herded into the courtyard upon arrival, handed threadbare sleeping bags and given stale bread that could have doubled as a weapon.
"Future Alphas," one of the senior instructors had sneered, pacing before us like we were prisoners rather than students. "In your father’s pack, you may be royalty. Here, you’re lower than Omegas. Here, you must earn your rank."
For centuries, Ravenshore Academy had been the foundation where the greatest Alphas were forged through discipline, pain and relentless training. Where heirs were stripped of their titles and turned into warriors, or broken, trying.
Every year, pack Alphas from across the continent sent their sons to Ravenshore. In contrast, their daughters were sent to Ebonvale, the sister Academy for daughters of Alpha, which specialised in creating perfect Lunas, a path that would have been mine.
At least, there might have been a proper bathroom, and I would be nestled in a comfortable bed with silk bedsheets, but I would’ve been found in an instant.
By the time my father figured out my deception, I would have another plan in place. So, this was only a temporary solution.
Here, in Ravenshore, Eamon could exist even if Eamon was slowly freezing to death.
Now, all the newly admitted students were seated in a cold stone hall, waiting for the next step in our initiation that was unknown to us. I wrapped my arms around myself, rubbing vigorously to generate some warmth.
My legs were numb. My fingers were stiff, and I had to pee so bad it made my eyes water. But every time I neared the bathroom, it would be filled with boys, talking and laughing loudly.
When I decided to become a boy, I hadn’t prepared for that. I’d lost count of how many times I turned back, with my heart pounding at the thought of being discovered.
As I sat shivering on the wooden bench, staring longingly at the fireplace that remained unlit, a black, heavy jacket suddenly appeared in front of my face.
I looked up—and up—into a pair of hazel eyes that seemed to shift between green and gold depending on how the light hit them.
The eyes belonged to a tall boy with tousled red hair that looked artfully dishevelled, as though he’d spent a considerable amount of time making it appear like he’d just rolled out of bed.
His features were aristocratic, with high cheekbones and a strong jaw that hinted at a smirk. He wore the standard academy uniform – black pants and a grey button-down – but somehow made it look like designer fashion.
The top buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a sliver of tanned chest and the edge of what might have been a tattoo.
"Well, aren’t you a sight," he drawled. His voice was a rich baritone. "You look two minutes away from dying. Thought I’d save you the embarrassment."
I stared at the jacket. I wanted it, desperately, my fingers were already twitching toward the warm-looking material, but I caught myself at the last second.
Boys didn’t show weakness. Boys didn’t shiver and accept help easily. Boys were tough.
I looked away, pretending I hadn’t noticed the gesture.
The boy let out a low whistle and dropped into a seat beside me with the arrogance of someone who assumed the world owed him a throne.
"So, you’re a boy," he said, cocking his head and withdrawing his hand. "Could’ve fooled me. Your profile felt...girly. Almost got confused. I honestly thought you were one."
A tight knot formed in my throat. How many others thought that? How many others had picked up on my ’girly profile? Was my disguise that thin?
I ignored him, turning to stare out of the window, biting down on the panic crawling up my spine.
Blend in. Don’t let them see you.
The sound of aluminium cracking open drew my attention back. The redhead was cracking open a can of beer at 9 AM.
He caught me staring and grinned, revealing perfect white teeth. "Don’t tell me you’re one of those boys who don’t drink alcohol?"
I didn’t answer. I turned back to the window.
He took a swig and leaned back; one arm slung over the back of the bench like we were old friends. "You better loosen up, Riggs. Work that jaw, bark a little, or you’ll be getting into a lot of trouble."
I glanced at him, trying to hide the fear in my eyes.
"Y-You know my name?" I asked carefully.
"Yes," he nodded, eyeing me with amusement. "Your name tag," he pointed to the blue name tag on my shirt. "Did you forget you had that?"
I’d forgotten. I managed a smile and turned back to the window again.
I decided it was probably wise to introduce myself now. Better for everyone to start getting used to me – to Eamon. I dropped my voice as low as it would naturally go without sounding forced.
"Duskveil," I muttered.
"Duskveil?" he scrunched his brow, taking another swig from his beer can, "Never heard of it.
"It’s a small pack, North Ridge," I replied with a shrug, keeping my answers brief. The less I spoke, the less chance of slipping up.
"Figures," he grinned again and extended a hand. "My name is Rhett Thatcher. Ravenspire Pack and yes..." he gestured grandly around the hall, "–my great-great-great-maybe ten generations removed from me, founded this glorious dump." He gave an exaggerated bow from his seated position. "You’re welcome."
Despite myself, I felt the corner of my mouth twitch. The boy, Rhett, was ridiculous, but something was charming about his confidence.
Before I could react, a voice sounded behind us.
"Drinking on academy grounds. How predictable of you, Thatcher."
A tall boy stood a few feet away, holding a file in one hand, and his other hands were shoved inside his pants.
The newcomer was the total opposite of Rhett. Raven-black hair was slicked back neatly from a face that seemed to be carved from marble – all sharp angles and cold perfection. His eyes were the lightest colour of blue I’ve ever seen, but they were freezing.
Unlike Rhett’s dishevelled, yet sexy appearance, this boy’s uniform was immaculate – every button was fastened, not even a single crease or wrinkle. Even his posture was perfect, making everyone else look like slouching drunks.
He looked like he’d stepped out of a military academy recruitment poster.
Rhett’s easy smile hardened.
"Always a pleasure, Kael Winters," he drawled, deliberately pausing to take another swig from his can. "Still practicing how to remove that stick up your ass, or have you given up and decided to make it a permanent feature?"
The dark-haired boy – Kael – didn’t so much as blink at the insult. His eyes moved from Rhett to me, stopping to scan my entire length, until it felt like I was a specimen under a microscope.
"New student?" he asked.
"Yes," I nodded. "I came in yesterday."
"I didn’t ask you that," Kael said with coldness. "Only give me answers to questions I ask."
"You don’t have to be rude, Winters," Rhett sighed from beside me. "I wonder who made you a first-year coordinator."
Kael ignored him and set the file he was holding on the desk in front of us. He opened it and turned to me. "What is your name?"
"Eamon Riggs," I replied automatically.
He was writing out the information I gave him, but as soon as I mentioned the name of my pack, he paused midway and raised his head to look at me.
"Are you related to the Beta Prime?"
"What?" I stuttered, confused. "Who’s that?"
"Ignore him, Eamon." Rhett draped an arm around my shoulders casually, pulling me to his side. "The Beta Prime can’t be the only one with that surname. Stop subjecting the innocent boy to your scrutiny."
"You talk too much, Thatcher," Kael said, straightening. "Why don’t you worry about the sanctions you would get for breaking the school rules?"
Rhett’s arms tightened around my shoulders. "Going to report me? Again? How original."
"Why waste my effort?" Kael’s lips curved into what seemed like a smile. "Your self-destruction requires no assistance from me."
"You know what your problem is, Winters?" Rhett stood suddenly, bringing himself nose-to-nose with Kael. The beer can crumpled in his fist, with the remaining liquid spilling over his fingers. "You’re so busy calculating everyone’s weaknesses that you’ve forgotten how to live."
"And you’re so busy ’living’ that you’ve neglected to develop any strengths beyond your ability to make friends with naïve first-years and bed every girl in Ebonvale. But of course, if you had earned your place here, you would understand how important it is for everyone."
"What did you say?" Rhett snarled.
"Exactly what you heard," Kael replied, taking a step backwards. "Go ahead and hit me, dog."
I could feel the buildup of energy in the air. Around us, other students had gone quiet, watching the confrontation with avid interest.
Just when I thought things would not brighten up, the doors of the hall banged open.