Rich Boys Don't Have Hearts

13 | TREDECIM

AS LITTLE CHILDREN, WE WERE TAUGHT HOW TO BE PRINCESSES. But what was the point of becoming one, unless you grow up to be Queen?

A cold, ruthless Queen, a Queen the King feared and bowed down to his knees for. Princesses live a pink-tulle fairy tale in a magical story book, but in the end, they are locked away. In their chambers, while they sing of whaling and grief and their star-crossed princes. A queen has strategy, has the power. Has the crown. Why would you wish to live happily ever after with a prince when you could rule a kingdom with an ice cold heart instead?

See the thing is, there are no ice cold queens. They don't exist because there are only the ones that men fear and hate, only powerful ones.

Vivat Regina.

Long live the Queen.

Those were the words that repeated in my head over and over again.

I walk down the school's empty halls, not minding the path before me but the arm band instead. The thing itself looked brand new, not that I was shocked though, it only ever had one owner anyways.

I don't feel the victory, or the adrenaline. Why? I always wanted this, ever since Noah said I needed it.

"Aiko Rockefeller." A man in a suit stand before me, I look up towards his face.

"Oh. Hi." Were the only words I could muster, he caught me off guard.

From the flap of his dark suit he pulls out a letter with Venisde's seal engraved in burgundy wax. Doing it all without a word. He then walks past me, as if never seeing me at all.

Venisde's security always walked around the halls during lunch time to make sure we didn't cause any trouble. I don't think I've ever seen them here this late.

I tuck the band inside the small pocket of my pinafore before ripping the top of the envelope. "What's so important?"

Why would they want to see me now? They don't hand out those letters after recess period. And from what I know, the school is empty.

I flip the watercolor page that is rough to the touch, reading the letter before me,

HP Room. 4:40PM sharp.

I look at the time at the clock, "Oh shit!"

I took off into a sprint as fast as I could in a pinafore. It was 4:38 and I do not want to be late for a meeting they arranged for me, nope, too much.

Turning to a hall, I slow down my steps, I was so sure my shoes were loud enough to be heard in the dead of silence that plagued the entries of the whole archaic building that it wouldn't matter if I ran to the door or not.

I fix every inch of myself, tying my hair into a bun and trying to cover up my ripped tights as if I could. If I would, I'd bang my flats on the wall like they're chalkboard erasers to get rid of the grass that stick stuck to them.

I clear my throat, knowing I looked like shit to be in the view of a Venisde headmaster and knock on the door.

I don't hear a faint 'Come in.' The walls were soundproof and the heavy oak door does wonders to eliminate sound from spreading.

Slowly, I open the door and step inside.

Thick velvet carpets, gold soft-light lamps, the stoneware bust statue of Aristotle resting on the sill of the bow windows and the smell of Aventus cologne by Creed.

Standing with his back faced to me was an old man with hair white enough to make him look like he holds the secret to every plausible problem. There is a frail, gold chain hanging from his breast pocket. I hear a drink being poured, before the sound was drowned out by the loud drum of his cane to the wood floor.