Freya Arsov sits on top of a world of diamonds and sports cars. Her father is a billionaire, head of a world-renown company, her mother, an esteemed lawyer. She attends the most prestigious boarding school in England. She has four amazing best frien...
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IF THERE WAS ONE THING THAT MADE THE STUDENTS of Arrowsmith Institute for Excellency sharpen their proverbial knives and tuck them into the inside of expensive gowns and tuxedos, it was a party.
But the Winter Ball was not just a party. It was a reckoning. It was a Judgement Day to the overly privileged teens of the boarding school.
Heaven came in the form of wearing the most expensive piece of jewellery at your throat, showing off to all your peers that you ruled— and had the diamonds to prove it.
Hell was anything that wasn't perfect.
A hair out of place? No date? A dress from last season? And don't even think about tripping in your bright red-soled shoes. No, then it would be off with your motherfucking head.
Mayella knew the customs of this world well. She'd made herself learn them. But the girl who stared back at her in the large mirror in the spare bedroom of Ebony House wasn't perfect.
Sure, she glittered. The forest green gown hugged her body beautifully and it's high slit showed off her long legs. The Louboutins at her feet were bedazzled so brightly that it could blind someone who was not careful enough. Her lips were carved into a maroon smirk and jet black hair fell in a sleek curtain, not a strand out of place.
But it didn't matter how brightly she shone, someone would pick out a flaw.
And for the first time in her life, she did not care.
She didn't have to be perfect. She liked who she was. She liked the boy who was going to be on her arm at this Judgement Day of theirs.
As usual, she was the first one ready. The day someone else in this house got ready before her, pigs would fly.
She sailed down the halls of the house, feet taking her to Freya's room. Of course, Freya wasn't ready. But she was certainly better off than Amelie, who Maye had passed skittering down the hall screaming about a missing earring. Maye didn't bother to tell her that the damn thing was hanging from her ear. She'd figure it out herself.
Freya certainly wasn't perfect. But she'd never cared to be and that was what made her so powerful in this hierarchy of theirs.
Pale strands of styled blonde hair fell into Freya Arsov's eyes as she tilted her head at Mayella in her doorway. She held up a hand. "I got a French manicure," she intoned. "Where is my dress?" She crossed her arms.
Mayella laughed. Anyone else would be threatened by the 5'5 ice princess in that stance. But all Mayella saw was her short best friend trying and failing to intimidate her.
"I don't have it," she told Freya airily.
Freya balked. "Am I to go in my robe, Mayella?"
It was a pretty robe, lace-trimmed and white. And knowing Freya, she most definitely would go in it, and smirk all the while.
