The moment Lottie stepped into the classroom, the atmosphere hit her like a wall—dense, electric, humming with unspoken tension. Conversations dipped, eyes flicked toward her, then away, as if merely glancing was dangerous. Her pulse pounded in her ears, but she smoothed her skirt with a steady hand, spine straight, chin lifted just enough to feign effortless calm.
She caught Evelyn's eyes across the room. The gleam in them was unmistakable: challenge.
Evelyn rose gracefully from her seat, every movement choreographed to perfection. A smile curved her lips, soft and sweet, but Lottie saw the tightness at its edges, the glint of steel behind the honey. Evelyn's fingers brushed over the edge of a desk, nails tapping in a light, deliberate rhythm as she crossed the room with a predator's poise. The tap-tap-tap of her nails was almost hypnotic, slicing through the murmured hum of the class like tiny hammer strikes.
"Lottie," Evelyn said, voice smooth as silk, "quite the morning you've had." Her eyes glittered, lashes lowering just enough to veil the sharpness lurking underneath.
Lottie tilted her head slightly, lips curving in a faint, measured smile. "You know me. I like to keep things interesting." Her voice flowed light as air, but inside, her chest tightened, a slow coil of tension wrapping itself around her ribs.
There it was—the first clash, velvet against ice.
Evelyn's eyes sparkled, her lashes fluttering just so, a practiced flick that caught the light like a polished blade. "Well, everyone's certainly talking." She leaned in a fraction, her breath a delicate warmth against Lottie's cheek, the faint scent of peonies clinging to her skin. "But you know how fleeting gossip can be. One moment up, the next—" her lips barely moved, the whisper feather-light—"forgotten."
Lottie's fingers flexed subtly at her sides, nails grazing the soft fabric of her skirt. She inhaled slowly, feeling the rise and fall of her chest, the cool brush of air as it threaded through the taut space between them. "Good thing I'm not here to be remembered, then." Her voice was soft, almost gentle, but the blade beneath it flashed sharp, and she saw it land—just a flicker, the tiniest tremor at the corner of Evelyn's mouth.
Around them, the room seemed to inhale, the air pulled taut like a bowstring. Classmates watched from the corners of their eyes, pretending to busy themselves with notebooks and whispered jokes, but their attention was magnetic, drawn inexorably to the two sisters circling in polite battle.
Amy hovered at Lottie's side, fingers worrying the strap of her bag, her eyes wide with a cocktail of awe and fear. "Lottie," she murmured, voice trembling at the edges, "should we… maybe sit down?" Amy's fingers twitched nervously, brushing Lottie's arm in a quick, feather-light touch, as if grounding herself.
Lottie glanced at her, a brief flicker of warmth softening her expression, but her gaze snapped back to Evelyn almost immediately. "In a minute." Her voice dropped lower, a velvet undertone that vibrated in her own throat.
Evelyn's brow arched, a glimmer of amusement dancing over her face, though her fingers curled just slightly against her notebook, the skin at her knuckles tightening with quiet strain. "It's adorable," she murmured, "how quickly you've become… popular." Her eyes swept the room lazily, but her pupils pinned straight to Lottie, sharp as twin needles.
Before Lottie could speak, another presence slipped into the space—Leo, draped in casual indifference, his hands in his pockets, eyes gleaming with quiet mischief. "Ladies," he drawled, voice lazy, "am I interrupting a family reunion, or…?" His mouth curved with a wolfish tilt, his gaze flicking between them like a spark skimming dry tinder.
The tension fractured just enough for breath. Amy exhaled a shaky giggle; Evelyn's smile faltered a heartbeat before snapping back into place like a trap snapping shut.
"Leo," Evelyn purred, "how charming of you to join us." Her fingers lifted to tuck a golden strand behind her ear, the movement graceful but just a touch too deliberate. Her gaze flicked to Lottie, and just for an instant, her mask cracked—the faintest tightening at the corner of her mouth, the smallest twitch at her jawline.
Leo offered a lazy grin, his eyes sliding to Lottie with the barest twitch of an eyebrow, a silent pulse of alignment. The corner of his mouth lifted, and Lottie felt the knot in her stomach loosen, just a breath.
The teacher's voice cut through the haze, calling the class to order, but it barely scratched the undercurrent threading the room.
Lottie's pulse was a thunderclap in her chest as she took her seat. Her hands rested lightly on her desk, but every nerve hummed with alertness, every breath measured, every glance calibrated. She felt Evelyn's gaze slide over her like a knife's edge, probing, calculating, the weight of it a sharp pressure between her shoulder blades.
As the lesson droned on, Lottie marked each flick of Evelyn's pen, each murmured aside to her friends, each perfectly timed ripple of laughter that sent tremors through the room. Amy fidgeted beside her, occasionally whispering a nervous observation—"Did you see the way she looked at you just now?"—but Lottie kept her replies brief, her eyes locked on the chessboard slowly assembling itself around her. Her fingers brushed the smooth surface of her desk, the faint chill of it grounding her, anchoring her in the now.
Leo, from across the aisle, caught her eye once, a small quirk at the corner of his mouth betraying amusement. His fingers drummed on his notebook in a rhythm only she seemed to recognize, a quiet code threaded through the noise.
And Evelyn—oh, Evelyn was spinning her web, her laughter silver-threaded and brittle, her smile stretched just a little too wide. Lottie could almost feel the crackle of energy bleeding off her sister, the slight tremor in her voice when a joke fell flat, the stiff flick of her hair over one shoulder.
Lottie's thoughts flicked like lightning: How long can she keep this up? When will she strike? She felt the heat of adrenaline pooling under her skin, the itch to act held back by a delicate tether of control.
The bell's shriek carved through the tension, a discordant release. Students surged to their feet, chairs scraped against the floor, bags zipped and snapped. Lottie moved with deliberate calm, sliding her notebook into her bag, her fingers steady despite the tremor pulsing just below the surface. Her breath came shallow but even, her heart a pounding drum she kept caged behind her ribs.
Evelyn was there before she could stand, her presence blooming at Lottie's side like a flower laced with thorns.
"Walk with me?" Evelyn asked, voice sugar-dipped, her fingers brushing Lottie's elbow with a touch so light it might have been a caress or a warning. Her nails, pale and immaculate, grazed the thin fabric of Lottie's sleeve, and the jolt of contact sent a tiny shock up her arm.
Lottie straightened slowly, adjusting the strap of her bag. "Lead the way." Her voice was cool, her throat tight with the effort to sound casual.
The hallway swallowed them in murmured awe. Amy trailed behind, uncertain, her eyes darting between the sisters. Leo lingered at the classroom door, arms folded, his sharp gaze tracking every motion, the edge of his grin faint but present, like a shadow waiting for light.
They moved like dancers in a slow, venom-laced waltz.
"You know," Evelyn said lightly, her voice threaded with a purr only Lottie could hear, "people are fickle. They love a good rise… but they adore a fall even more." Her fingers toyed with a lock of her hair, eyes bright with the sheen of polished malice.
Lottie's heart hammered against her ribs, but her lips curved into a serene smile. "Lucky for me, I've learned to land on my feet." Her voice was velvet, wrapping the words in softness that belied their edge.
A flicker crossed Evelyn's face—there and gone, a brief crack in the porcelain mask.
Behind them, Amy's footsteps stumbled; Leo's quiet chuckle slipped through the noise like a razor through silk.
The moment stretched, brittle as spun glass.
Evelyn leaned in, her breath a whisper at Lottie's ear. "Careful, sister. Not every fall gives you a second chance."
The words sliced, cold and sharp, but Lottie swallowed the flinch, forcing her breath steady, her smile light. "And not every queen keeps her crown." The words left a faint tremor in the air, a ripple that shivered between them.
For a heartbeat, Evelyn's fingers clenched at her side, nails pressing half-moon dents into her palm.
The final bell rang, echoing through the corridor like a starting gun.
Lottie's pulse surged, sharp and bright. She turned, brushing past Evelyn with a feather-light touch of her shoulder, the faintest flicker of defiance trailing in her wake. Amy scurried to keep pace, glancing back once, twice, her face a kaleidoscope of nerves.
Leo's voice floated over the hum of the hallway, lazy and amused. "See you at lunch, champion."
Lottie didn't look back. But her smile sharpened as she walked, every nerve alive, every breath threaded with anticipation. Her fingertips grazed the cool lockers as she passed, the faint bite of metal grounding her as the air behind her crackled with tension.
Behind her, Evelyn stood very still, eyes narrowed, the edges of her smile fraying as the first tremors of the next move rippled beneath her skin.
Lottie felt it before she heard it—the whisper of foresight brushing the edge of her mind, the telltale flutter in her pulse. She inhaled once, steadying herself, the world sharpening into a razor's edge of sensation. Her skin prickled, her chest tightened, and the faint scent of Evelyn's perfume still clung to the air like a warning.
The game was still young. And Lottie was done playing by anyone else's rules.