Queen of Steel: Throne of Lies

Chapter 4

The clacking of my Dior heels echoed through the university halls as I strutted, head held high. As a Steelman, confidence was second nature to me. Even though Allistair's words struck a nerve, and I felt as if he might be right. Perhaps I had been too severe in my treatment of that pathetic mouse girl.

But a true queen never doubts her actions, I reminded myself, and quickly brushed the notion off. The wench had assaulted me and paid the price. I refused to second-guess myself. If anything, I found his need to defend that shoe vandal quite infuriating and preposterous.

Teresa and Tamara chattered aimlessly at my sides, their incessant gossip just background noise as we headed into our first class of the morning. We claimed our usual seats just as an unfamiliar man strode into the lecture hall with an air of misplaced confidence.

A hush fell over the class as all eyes fixated on the new psychology professor. I had to admit, he wasn't hard on the eyes - sharp, chiseled features complemented by intense dark eyes, a well-groomed goatee, and thick black hair. But what struck me most was his youthfulness. Compared to the prehistoric dinosaurs that usually taught at our campus, he seemed relatively young, probably in his early thirties.

There was an air of confidence about him that demanded attention. But my gaze immediately zeroed in on his ill-fitted blazer. The cheap, wrinkled material was an insult to fashion, and a flicker of disdain momentarily distracted me from analyzing his other features.

When he finally spoke, the refined, almost melodic baritone voice was utterly incongruous with his rumpled appearance. "Good morning, class. I'm Professor Preston Hahn, and I'll be taking over for Dr. McMillan as the new head of the psychology department. I'm excited to take this journey with all of you," he announced with a charming smile.

The pretentious word choice was grating. A journey? Was this idiot under the delusion we were going somewhere? With an inward eye roll, I realized he was attempting to pander to the freshman girls who would easily eat up his philosophical meaninglessness with lusty giggles.

As Professor Hahn began an activity, I found myself torn between participating and submerging in my own thoughts. Teresa nudged me, pulling me back from my reverie.

"Are you going to join us, or are you going to stay in la-la land?" Teresa whispered, a smirk on her face. I shot her a mock glare and faked a big yawn, covering my mouth with my hand. She chuckled and shook her head, familiar with my antics whenever I was preoccupied with something else.

The class began with an elementary inkblot activity that felt rudimentary even for an intro psych course. Hahn asked students to analyze the ambiguous images, and with each response, he replied with unsettlingly precise personal details - as if he could read their very thoughts. Murmurs and laughter rippled through the lecture hall as everyone realized this seemingly innocuous man might actually be clairvoyant.

With furrowed brows, I regarded him carefully. While undoubtedly intelligent, there was something more calculatedly unnerving about the way he tore into the intimate thoughts of each student. Like a skilled puppeteer scrutinizing his strings. Eventually, he announced we needed to pair up and continue the exercise ourselves.

My gaze immediately went to Allistair, the familiar golden caramel locks of my beloved reminding me we were not on the best terms. Our eyes met for the briefest moment before he turned away, instantly focused on partnering with someone else. I felt the usual vice around my heart at being so quickly dismissed, but stubbornly squashed the pang of longing. Onwards and upwards.

With no other choice, I reluctantly allowed Tamara to be my partner, feigning concentration to avoid engaging her in any banal chit-chat. The activity mercifully ended, and Professor Hahn concluded with another attempt at existential wisdom: