Chapter 2 — The Rules of Rank
Reid
The next morning, Reid found himself trapped in what he hated most—sitting still, surrounded by suffocating order. The classroom was cavernous, an altar to wealth and tradition. Vaulted ceilings loomed above, their arches drawing the eye toward massive windows streaming beams of cold sunlight. Rows of polished mahogany desks stretched in rigid symmetry, each occupied by students with immaculate posture. Notebooks bound in Italian leather and pens gleaming with gold accents—a quiet display of opulence that screamed excess.
Reid slouched in his seat, his worn leather jacket creaking faintly as he shifted. The rough texture of its scuffed edges brushed against his skin, reminding him of home and grounding him against the pristine world closing in. He felt the whispers as they started, low but deliberate, buzzing like gnats in his ears.
“...definitely new money. Look at those boots…”
“Who wears a jacket like that here?”
His jaw tightened, but his expression remained neutral, hardened into indifference. His fingers tapped an uneven rhythm against the smooth desk, a quiet rebellion against the order around him. Let them talk. Words couldn’t touch him unless he let them. Still, the sting was there, lurking beneath the surface like an old scar he had trained himself not to pick at.
At the front of the room, a teacher with thick glasses and a clipped British accent adjusted his tie before beginning his sermon. “Golden Skies prides itself on tradition,” he droned, his voice slicing through the room like the hum of a well-honed blade. “The rules of rank are more than a system—they are the foundation upon which this institution thrives. Respecting these rules ensures order and excellence within our community.”
The words grated against Reid, sour and grating. Rules of rank. Tradition. Order. They were all just different words for control. His gaze drifted to the window, past the symmetrical gardens and unnaturally trimmed trees. Even the nature here felt stifled, as though the world itself had been forced to obey the rules. There were always cracks, though. There had to be.
The teacher continued, pacing slowly across the front of the room. “Take, for example, the Fountain of Hierarchy in our Grand Courtyard. It’s more than a decorative centerpiece; it represents the structure that sets Golden Skies apart. At the top, the crowned tiers symbolize leadership and legacy, while the base supports that structure, representing the foundation of unity among all students.”
Reid snorted under his breath at the irony. Unity. Sure. If unity meant trampling over anyone who didn’t fit the mold.
A folded piece of paper slid across his desk, stopping just shy of his elbow. Startled, he glanced to his right. Carson Hayes was lounging in his seat, his lopsided grin firmly in place as he tipped an imaginary hat at Reid.
Unfolding the note, Reid saw bold, blocky letters scrawled in black ink:
“WELCOME TO THE JUNGLE.”
Reid snorted softly, a flicker of genuine amusement breaking through his irritation. He scribbled back: “MORE LIKE A CIRCUS.”
When Carson read the reply, his quiet laugh carried across the room, catching the teacher’s attention. The man paused mid-sentence, fixing Carson with a glare sharp enough to split glass.
“Mr. Hayes,” the teacher snapped, his tone brittle, “is there something you’d like to share with the class?”
Carson’s grin widened, somehow both sheepish and unrepentant. “Not at all, sir. Just enthralled by your lecture. Truly riveting stuff.”
The teacher’s eyes narrowed, his thin lips pursing in disapproval. “Perhaps you’d find it easier to focus if you refrained from distracting your peers.”
“Yes, sir,” Carson replied, his tone oozing mock sincerity as he mimed a salute. Reid caught the faintest twitch of a smirk breaking through his otherwise stoic façade.
The bell rang, cutting through the tension. Students moved with practiced efficiency, gathering their things and gliding out the door like ghosts. The room emptied in seconds, leaving only Reid and Carson lingering.
As they stepped into the hallway, its polished floors gleaming under the fluorescent lights, Carson leaned in with a conspiratorial air. “You’ve got guts,” he said. “Most people wouldn’t throw shade at the Queen her first day here.”
Reid shrugged, his mouth curling into a smirk. “She started it.”
Carson let out a low whistle. “Man, you really don’t get it yet, do you? Lianna Kingsley isn’t just Queen in name. She runs this place. The rules of rank—” he gestured broadly, “—aren’t just some unspoken nonsense. They’re life here. You break them, you’re done. No second chances.”
“Rules of rank,” Reid repeated, his voice heavy with mockery. “Sounds like a load of crap.”
“Oh, it is,” Carson said cheerfully, though his grin softened into something more thoughtful. “But it’s crap that bites back. You step out of line here, and it’s not just Lianna you’ll have to deal with. The whole system will close in on you like a pack of wolves.”
Reid stopped walking and turned to face Carson fully, his green eyes dark and piercing. “And what? I’m supposed to bow and scrape because someone decided they’re better than me? That’s not happening.”
Carson’s grin faltered. For a moment, something raw flickered in his expression—something Reid wasn’t sure he wanted to pry into. “Look, I’m not saying you have to kiss anyone’s ass. Hell, I’d lose respect for you if you did. Just… be careful. People like Hayes and Lianna don’t just play the game—they own the board. And trust me, no one plays fair.”
Reid’s fists tightened at his sides. He’d spent too much of his life under someone else’s thumb, fighting for every scrap of control. He wasn’t about to give it up now. “Noted,” he said shortly. “Anything else I should know?”
Carson hesitated, then leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Yeah. Stay out of the Grand Courtyard after dark. That’s when the elites hold their little… meetings.”
“What kind of meetings?”
“The kind where people like us don’t walk away unscathed,” Carson said lightly, though his voice carried an edge of warning. “Just trust me on this one, Maxwell.”
Reid didn’t respond, but the warning sank deep. He filed it away, along with everything else he’d observed since arriving.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of monotony and tension. Every room felt like a stage, every gaze a spotlight. The weight of scrutiny pressed against him, unrelenting. By the time the final bell rang, his muscles ached from the effort of holding his composure.
As he crossed the campus, the crunch of gravel under his boots the only sound, he spotted her—Lianna, standing alone by the fountain in the Grand Courtyard. The late afternoon sun hit her golden hair, turning it into a crown of light. For a moment, Reid considered walking away. She hadn’t seen him, and avoiding her would have been easy. But something stopped him—a flicker of defiance, or maybe curiosity. Or maybe it was the way she stood so still, as though the weight of her crown might be too much to bear.
“Enjoying the view?” he called out, his voice cutting through the stillness like a blade.
Lianna turned slowly, her icy blue eyes locking onto his. Even from a distance, he could see the flicker of annoyance that crossed her face before she masked it with a practiced calm.
“You’re persistent,” she said, her voice cool and measured. “I’ll give you that.”
Reid smirked, his hands sliding into his jacket pockets. “And you’re predictable. I’ll give you that.”
Her lips curved into a faint smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. She adjusted the delicate gold pendant around her neck, her fingers brushing over the engraved surface. “Careful, Maxwell. Boldness will only get you so far.”
“Good thing I’m not here to go far,” he shot back. “I’m here to stay.”
For a moment, the space between them crackled with tension, sharp and electric. Reid caught something in her gaze—admiration? Contempt? He couldn’t tell, and he didn’t much care. Let her try to figure him out. He wasn’t going to make it easy.
Lianna tilted her head, studying him like a puzzle she wasn’t sure she wanted to solve. “You’ll learn,” she said softly, echoing her words from the day before. Then she turned and walked away, her heels clicking against the marble tiles.
Reid watched her go, a strange mix of satisfaction and unease stirring in his chest. She wasn’t just a cog in the machine—she was the machine, the embodiment of everything he hated about this place. But there was something else, too. Something he couldn’t quite name.
As the sun dipped lower on the horizon, stretching shadows across the courtyard, Reid adjusted his jacket and headed for the dorms. The rules of rank might have been sacred here, but that didn’t mean he had to follow them.
Let them come. He’d been fighting his whole life. Golden Skies wasn’t going to be any different.
