The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress

Chapter 297

That afternoon, while everyone else alternated between drills and rest, Citrine was either being punished or on her way to another round of it.

She prided herself on her stamina, but even she couldn't withstand an entire afternoon of relentless training. While others caught their breath, she was running laps or doing push-ups as punishment.

By half past five, Citrine staggered back to the dorm, utterly spent. She didn't even have the appetite to eat; she just collapsed onto her bed.

Ingrid and the others were worried sick. They'd brought back some food from the dining hall, but when they walked in and saw Citrine sprawled out, they couldn't bear to wake her.

Ingrid quietly set the food on the desk and whispered to the others, "Let's just let Citrine rest. She's been through hell today, and we have to muster for the sing- along later. Who knows what that damn Hastings will put her through next?" The more Ingrid spoke, the more indignant she sounded.

The group tiptoed to their own bunks, put on headphones, and scrolled through their phones, careful not to disturb her.

When it was almost time, they gently woke Citrine.

After a short nap, Citrine looked much better-her color had returned and she seemed more alert.

reached the field, the sing-along

others found a spot as far away from him as possible, and Citrine sat wedged between

matter. Hastings spotted

stopped the cadet who'd been leading the

eyelid twitched-a sure sign

scores are the highest in the group. I'm sure your singing is just as impressive. Why don't you lead us in a battle

My throat's sore," Citrine protested, scowling. She was convinced Hastings had somehow discovered her Achilles'

The last time she'd gone with her classmates to Siren's Whisper, she'd cranked the original track to full volume

to let her off the hook. "Citrine, following orders

evening had gathered at the training grounds, eager to watch the freshmen's military drills. If Citrine refused, she knew by tomorrow morning, the whole campus would

sing," Citrine muttered, bracing

and began: “Hear the trumpet sound, a

out

my God, is she