MILES'S REACTION SEEMED warranted as she said those words.

I stepped away from her. Well, more like stumbled away, feeling myself subconsciously stand straighter and push my shoulders back. Her eyes flickered down to my moving feet, but I couldn't tell if she was angered or amused.

It felt strange to act this way when I'd never heard of her before, like everyone else had seemed to. Correction: it was strange.

"W-well," I said, edging closer to Miles and getting ready to hightail it out of there. "Thank you. We better..."

"Oh, right, of course," she said, seeming unchanged but with her slouching shoulders and disheartened molten gold eyes, it was clear she was disappointed.

I don't really know what I was thinking, considering both Miles and I could barely speak English when she was near. I suppose I figured we'd get over it, eventually.

Ensuring my throat was clear and I wouldn't spit all over her, I hesitated but finally asked the question. "We're just going to eat pringles in my room, if you want to come."

It didn't seem all that fun when I said it aloud. In fact, it seemed very, very sad. Pathetic, even. Like me, ha.

Whether she was going to say yes or no was not foreseeable. She could turn up her nose at the idea and stomp away, yet equally, would she do that having just helped us?

Rich people confused me.

"If you don't mind," she said, rocking on her heels a bit as if terrified we were going to change our minds and run away.

"Course not," I said. "The more the merrier, right Miles?"

Miles hadn't said anything for the conversation so when I called on him, he was not in the least bit ready. He jumped out of his skin when his name was said, and went to pulling on his sleeves, agitatedly.

"Right."

***

The three of us were sat in my room, them on the bed whilst I sat on the window ledge with a cushion under me.

Miles seemed to have become a lot more relaxed as we began talking and eating. He and her, surprisingly, were devouring the crisps like no tomorrow. Several times, I had to reprimand the both of them for leaving crumbs.

"Come on," Miles said, laying on his side and leaning on his hand. "You're telling me you don't like galas?"

She looked up to the ceiling. "Of course I like them, they're just a bit of a chore. There's this one at the end of the year and it's absolutely huge; everyone in the higher circles go and it's put up in a friend of mine's castle and—"

"Castle?!" Miles shrieked.

At the sight of her looking confusedly at us as if castles were the norm in both of our lives, I said, "Neither of us have ever been in a castle."

"Oh," she sighed, dejectedly. "You should both come, then. I'll show you around and it'll be fun."

Whilst Miles shouted a 'Yes!' very enthusiastically, I went for the unsure approach.

"I don't know, we'll see whe— hey, what's that?" I had spotted a line of cars, each with blacked out windows, both in front of and behind a large limousine. They barricaded it in as they were driving, sure to keep their pace slow and never more than a metre away from it.

Autumn was up and out of her seat as soon as she'd seen what I had, and was out the door.

Both Miles and I looked at one another.

"What just happened?"

He pulled me up. "Come on, we need a good view."

"There's already going to be people at the windows downstairs. We can see from here."

"Fine," he said, just as the cars eased to a stop below us.

Out of each car, men even larger than Bill climbed out. They were each cloaked in black material, but with gold cuffs and buttons. As one reached for the middle car's door, I noticed they also had on pristine, white gloves.

The door was opened and a figure got out. The guards on either side of the car stood stationary but ready to move, as an older woman in a black suit stood beside the car. She peered into it and encouraged the remaining person out... the two remaining people, it would seem.

The first was a girl. Her clothes were clearly expensive, but I didn't recognise the designer— that wasn't such an unusual feat— and her limbs were long and graceful. She stepped out of the car, not looking particularly impressed as she looked towards the school. Although her perfectly fitting, slightly patterned trousers and loose blouse caught my attention the first, it was her hair that captured it completely. It was a fiery red; it seemed almost to glow, forcing your eye to it amidst the greens and browns of the outdoors.

A woman I didn't recognise appeared below, coming out of the school with measured steps. Her heels made it look like it would be difficult for her to walk on the gravel, but she made it look effortless.

"That's Amanda Kingsley," Miles said from beside me, now pressing his shoulder against mine to get a better look.

"Who?"

"The head, you dunce."

"Oh, right," I said, laughing slightly at my own dimness. Now that I knew who she was, I found I recognised her— from the brochures and articles online, and even the school website. She'd always struck me as kind and accommodating in her photos, always smiling largely and never a hair out of place. In the flesh, though she was further away, she didn't let off a cruel air or anything, but she did seem more serious. Or maybe that was just because of who she was about to greet.

When she was about half way to them, another figure emerged. This one was a boy. Even from where I sat, I could practically feel his authority oozing from him. His dark hair, like the older woman's beside him, looked longer than the majority of boys's here.

As the still walking, more like gliding, headmistress came closer to the trio, two especially huge guys stepped in her path. She spoke to them without seeming shocked or affronted by their blocking.

The long-haired boy waved a gloved hand. His glove wasn't so thick as his guards, his being thinner and not such a bold white, probably from use.

She was let past immediately, and made the effort to walk to them so they didn't need to walk to her. Her dark skin met the other woman's as they shook hands. The red haired girl half-heartedly gave her hand over, too— her pale skin a stark contrast to Ms Kingsley's. She went to offer her hand to the boy. Before she could, a guard's arm appeared seemingly out of nowhere and words were exchanged between the other woman and her. Ms Kingsley nodded understandingly, before gesturing towards the school's entrance.

"Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god," Miles began muttering as the red haired girl, the gloved boy, and a singular guard followed her. The other woman and the remaining men got back into their designated cars and began disappearing back the way they had come. "He's here. It's him. He's actually here."

"Who?" I asked for the fourth time.

"The girl there," he pointed to the girl with curly tumbling down her back. "That's Michelle Wolff, her dad's a german investor, right? But that guy there," he then pointed to the boy, who wore a frown menacing enough to compete with Archer's. "That's Houman Safavi...

"Prince Of Akilah."