The Hidden Princess At All-Boys Alpha Academy

Chapter 0516

Luca sits down and we all lean forward as Rafe and Jackson take their folded notes and quickly open them, glancing through the contents. I lean over Jackson's arm, trying to read it myself, but he laughs and pulls it out of my sight. "Confidential, Clark."

"Oh, you're going to tell me anyway!"

"Maybe," he mutters. "If you're nice to me."

"I'm always nice to you!"

"It's not a big deal," Rafe says, taking a deep breath and putting his own note down, looking over at Jacks. "Is yours the same as mine? Notification that the Games are being moved up? And that we're..."

"Co-captains," Jackson replies, putting down his own letter, a little smile on his face. I look around at all of the boys' faces, trying to gauge the impact of this news.

"W-what does this mean?" I ask quietly, anxious.

"Don't get worked up about it, Ari," Rafe says, turning his eyes to me. "It's... faster than they'd usually run the Games, probably because of the war. It just means that Jackson and I have minor adjustments to our schedules so that we can begin to plan our strategy. We get a weekly study hall to meet and come up with our plan, look through Cadet profiles, organize our draft list."

at everyone else, kind of baffled that they're all taking this in stride like it's completely

me. "Which Cadet they'll pick first, which last. Who is a priority, who isn't. I, obviously...will go very quickly." Jokingly smug, he gestures to himself with a confident wave of his

"Only after me, Grant. I've got the only sniper rifle on

but I am...a duke. It would be incredibly rude, as well as foolish, to not pick me first. Especially considering that I'm not the size of a small

appalled and offended. "Jesse!" I shout, snatching up a mini muffin and throwing it at him. "I'm - I'm way

Jesse exclaims, swatting it out of the air, "can you even lift a larger one

voice booming out, rich and authoritative. He laughs a little, grinning at Jesse's appalled face, and then over at

arms over his chest and looking me up and down. "We'll see," he says, dubious.

that I

good shot by then and because I'm not letting you out of my sight in another battle scenario. Then he, too, concentrates on his food

weeks fly, mostly because I'm too

we head out to my sniping blind, where I diligently practice, working to improve my accuracy. Every three or four days the Captain sends me a note, letting me know that he's reviewed my targets and what changes he thinks I can make to my strategy and my form that will help me improve. When I start to be able to hit the bull's eye with accuracy, he sends instructions that I'm to make a

and shooting strategy which I sigh and add to my growing list of reading material. But I don't complain not at all

venly

the Games draft, but also because I'm determined to