1. Freya

1

Freya

T he library at Crestwood Academy felt more like a labyrinth than a place of learning. Shelves groaned under the weight of centuries-old tomes, and the scent of aged paper hung heavy in the air. I sat hunched over a thick law book, its pages filled with dense legalese about contract negotiations. Each word blurred into the next as my eyes traced over them, but I forced myself to focus.

Henry Mathers had been on my mind all morning. The thought of him made my stomach twist into knots. Just because he was a hot hockey player didn't mean I wanted him to be my husband.

I never wanted any of this.

I flipped another page, scanning for anything that might give me an out. Legal jargon about breach of contract stared back at me, unyielding. How did I get here? It was a question that gnawed at my insides.

My fingers traced the edge of the page, feeling its rough texture beneath my skin. The quiet rustle of turning pages echoed through the otherwise silent library. A soft click from across the room reminded me I wasn't alone; a student librarian organizing returned books.

"Excuse me," a voice broke through my thoughts.

I looked up to see the student librarian standing beside me, an inquisitive look on her face.

"Do you need help finding something?" she asked.

"I think I've got it," I replied, though the truth was far from it.

She nodded and moved away, her footsteps soft against the carpeted floor. I returned my attention to the tome before me, tracing my finger down a section on mutual agreement clauses. The words seemed so cold and clinical—so different from the mess of emotions churning inside me.

I tried to end it with Henry countless times, and every time, he refused. I needed something, anything, to go on at this point.

Another page turned under my fingertips as I searched for some sort of guidance or inspiration within those ancient texts. Anything to help navigate this tangled web I'd spun myself into.

Desperation clawed at me as I absorbed every clause and stipulation that might apply to breaking an unwanted promise. If only this arrangement could be handled as methodically as business contracts, with clear terms and conditions for dissolution.

I rubbed my temples and leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. If only there was something, anything, I could do to get out of this mess.

Without warning, a brunette dropped into the seat in front of me. She wore the Crestwood uniform, marking her as a student, but I'd never seen her before.

"Hi," she said, breaking my reverie.

I gave her a weary look. "Hey. I'm sorry. Do I know you?"

"Probably not," she replied, a hint of amusement in her voice. "I'm Rebecca. I'm a junior."

"Okay..." I still didn't understand what this had to do with me.

"You're engaged to Henry Mathers, aren't you?" she asked, her eyes locking onto mine.

My eyes widened. "How could you possibly know that?"

Rebecca rolled her brown eyes as if the answer were obvious. "Everyone knows that. You've been engaged your whole life, right?"

I blew out a breath. This shouldn't have surprised me, but it did.

Rebecca’s eyes flickered over the books spread out on my table, lingering on the heavy law tome.

“Let me guess,” she said, her tone confident. “You’re trying to get out of your engagement?”

“What gave it away?” I asked flatly, my voice betraying none of the turmoil inside.

She grinned and leaned forward, revealing an ample bosom beneath her uniform. “Because it’s obvious,” she said. “I mean, you went out with Dan Harbor for the majority of the year, right? What happened to you guys?”

I looked away, crossing my arms over my chest defensively. The memory of Dan still stung like an open wound.

“Ah,” Rebecca said, her tone softening with understanding. “You guys broke up then?”

“What do you want?” I snapped, pressing my lips together immediately after, regretting how harsh I sounded. But I wasn’t going to apologize to someone who had no business prying into my life.

“I can help you,” she said simply. “Get out of your engagement, I mean.”

“What?” The word slipped out before I could stop it.

Rebecca nodded confidently. “There’s a way.”

“What way?” I asked, my voice laced with skepticism. “I’ve tried everything.”

“No.” She shook her head slowly. “Not everything.”

I gave Rebecca a long look, trying to gauge her intentions. She was stunning, with sharp cheekbones and a cascade of chestnut hair that framed her face perfectly. Her eyes were a piercing green, and she carried herself with an air of confidence that seemed unshakable. It was easy to see why anyone would be drawn to her.

“What’s in it for you?” I asked, suspicion lacing my words.

Rebecca smirked, leaning back in her chair. “Let’s just say, Henry and I have a complicated relationship. And I can’t get what I want if he’s engaged to you.”

My eyes narrowed as I considered her words. There were only a few possibilities that made sense. Either she was one of those puck bunnies infatuated with Henry because he was an NHL draft pick who had deferred the NHL for Crestwood, or she wanted the Mathers' wealth. Maybe it was both.

“Typical,” I muttered under my breath. “Henry can sleep with whoever he wants, and that’s okay, but God forbid I have a boyfriend.”

She nodded, her expression serious. “I agree. It’s not fair. It’s why I want to help you.”

“Why do you assume he’d even go to you after he breaks things off with me?” I challenged.

She shook her head slowly, a knowing look in her eyes. “He won’t break things off with you.”

“Wait, what?” My confusion deepened, and I stared at her, waiting for an explanation.

Rebecca leaned forward again, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “He won’t break things off with you because he doesn’t have to. You have to make him want to let you go.”

“How do I do that?” I asked suspiciously, leaning back and crossing my arms.

Rebecca leaned forward, her eyes sparkling. “Have you heard of the Ravenwood Society?”

I furrowed my brows, the name unfamiliar. “No.”

“I thought not,” Rebecca said, a hint of smugness in her voice. “It’s kind of… Look, I’m not being dramatic, okay? It’s a secret society on campus.”

“A secret society?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Henry’s part of it,” Rebecca continued. “A lot of the wealthy are. Most have ties to the NHL, which is why the school is affiliated so closely with the league, but others aren’t. They’re legacies, like Henry.”

“Okay,” I said slowly, still confused. “What does that have to do with my engagement?”

“There’s a rule in the society,” she explained. “It’s an Imprinting ceremony that happens during the new moon in April every year. Basically, the members must claim a willing girl and the girl belongs to them until they let her go.”

I wrinkled my nose. “That’s disgusting.”

“It offers the girls protection,” she said quickly, as if trying to justify it. “As well as elevates their status. Obviously we can’t be NHL players, but belonging to a Ravenwood? You’re set for life, even if you’re released from your contract.”

“Contract?” I asked incredulously. “I don’t want to be bound by another contract.”

"Don't think of it like a contract," Rebecca said, her tone carrying a note of impatience. "Think of it more like a shift. Henry is a junior, which means he's expected to claim someone. Only juniors and seniors may take part, and only if they've done what's required."

"How do you know all this?" I asked, my curiosity piqued despite my reservations.

She flipped her hair back, her green eyes glinting with something unreadable. "Like I said, Henry and I have a complicated relationship. Anyway, if someone claims you, Henry can't touch you. You'd be protected for the next two years, as long as you keep your Master happy."

"Master?" I echoed, my voice rising in disbelief.

The librarian's sharp "Shh!" cut through the air, making me wince.

"Look," Rebecca said, the first flare of annoyance creeping into her voice. "Do you want out of this engagement or not?"

"You still haven't shown me how I'm supposed to get out of it," I retorted, feeling my patience fray.

"I'm getting there," she replied, her tone insistent. "Henry must abide by the rules. He cannot touch you for two years. When are you supposed to get married?"

"This summer," I murmured, the weight of those words settling heavily on my chest.

"Exactly," she said, her eyes narrowing with determination. "If Henry wants to remain a Ravenwood, he can't marry you."

"What if he just moves the date back?" I asked, a note of desperation creeping into my voice.

Rebecca's lips curled into a knowing smile. "Both parties would have to agree. Would your parents agree to that?"

I chewed my bottom lip, uncertainty gnawing at me. The truth was, I didn't know what my parents wanted from me anymore. They barely spoke to me as it was.

Rebecca leaned back in her chair, studying me intently. "Think about it," she said quietly. "This could be your way out."

I stared at the law book in front of me; the words blurring together once more. A secret society? A Master? It all sounded so far-fetched and yet...it might be my only option.

"How do I even get someone to claim me?" I asked finally, my voice barely above a whisper.

Her smile widened as if she had been waiting for this question all along. "I happen to know someone who completely loathes Henry.”

I arched a brow, waiting for her to continue.

"Jensen Ackerman," she said, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "He and Henry have been rivals since they were kids. They hate each other. He knows who you are. I'm surprised he hasn't approached you. But I can go to him and tell him you'll be at the ceremony. He'll claim you for sure."

"Ceremony?" I asked, my skepticism creeping into my voice.

"It's this weekend," she replied smoothly. "After the game." She reached into her bag and pulled out a glossy black card, handing it to me with a flourish. "Here. It's an invitation. You won't get in without it. Everything you need to know is on that card."

I took the card, feeling its smooth surface under my fingertips. My mind raced with the possibilities and dangers that came with this new information.

"If I were you," she continued, "I'd see if your parents are willing to put up with Henry reneging on the deal by moving the date back. Then again, Jensen might try to marry you himself, just to piss off Henry. He may talk your parents into a new contract, especially if Henry violates the contract first."

My gaze dropped to the card in my hand, its dark sheen reflecting the dim light of the library.

"Think about it," she said, standing up and preparing to leave.

"Wait," I called out, my voice wavering slightly. "When you say I have to belong to someone..." I let my voice trail off, unsure of how to finish the sentence.

Rebecca paused, her expression turning serious. "Protection isn't free," she said simply. "But unless you want to marry Henry, you have to be willing to pay the price."

With that, Rebecca turned and walked away, leaving me alone at the table with my thoughts and the weight of her words pressing down on me.

I stared at the black card in my hand, feeling a mix of fear and determination. This might be my only chance at freedom, but it came with its own set of risks and uncertainties.

The library seemed even quieter now as if holding its breath along with me as I considered what my next move should be.

I stood up, clutching the black card in my hand, and left the library. The heavy wooden doors creaked as they swung open, releasing me into the bright, spring air.

Campus buzzed with life. Cherry blossoms painted the pathways in shades of pink and white, their petals fluttering down like delicate confetti. Students lounged on the grass, some laughing, others absorbed in their books or conversations. The air smelled of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers—a stark contrast to the musty scent of old books inside the library.

I pulled out my phone and dialed my mother’s number. It rang once, twice, three times before going to voicemail.

"Hi Mom, it's Freya," I started, my voice shaky. "I know you're busy but if you could call me back when you get a chance... I just—" My throat tightened, and I blinked back tears. "I need to talk to someone about this."

A couple of students nearly collided with me as they hurried past, jolting me out of my emotional spiral.

"Watch it," one of them muttered.

I cleared my throat and took a deep breath. "Sorry," I mumbled into the phone. "Just... please call me when you can."

Hanging up, I slipped my phone back into my pocket and continued walking. The card in my hand felt heavier with each step.

I slipped it into my pocket and trudged toward my next class, thoughts churning like a storm inside me. The idea of belonging to someone, even if it meant escaping Henry, gnawed at me. I didn't want to be bound by anyone's rules, not Henry's and certainly not some secret society's.

I paused for a moment, watching a group of students laughing together under the cherry blossoms. Their carefree attitudes made my situation feel even more suffocating. All I wanted was my own freedom, to make my own choices without being tethered to anyone else's expectations or demands. But was that even possible for me? I couldn’t choose my parents… though sometimes it felt like they wished they could choose me.

I hurried along the path, joining the flow of students heading to their classes. My next class was Ethics in Modern Society, an irony that wasn’t lost on me given the ethical dilemmas I was currently wrestling with.

As I entered the classroom, I slid into a seat near the back, hoping to avoid any attention. Professor Kline was already writing on the board, her neat handwriting forming bullet points on Moral Relativism . My mind drifted as she started her lecture. Rebecca’s words kept replaying in my head: "Protection isn't free."

What did that even mean? Would Jensen really claim me just to spite Henry? And if he did, what kind of price would I have to pay? The idea of swapping one set of chains for another filled me with dread.

“Miss Reynolds?” Professor Kline’s voice cut through my thoughts.

I looked up, realizing she’d called on me.

“Can you give us an example of moral relativism in contemporary society?” she asked, her eyes sharp and expectant.

I cleared my throat, trying to pull my scattered thoughts together. “Uh, sure,” I began hesitantly. “Moral relativism can be seen in different cultural practices and how they’re judged by outsiders... Like arranged marriages might be seen as oppressive by some but are considered normal in other cultures.”

Professor Kline nodded approvingly and moved on with her lecture, but my mind wandered again. Arranged marriages—how fitting. Here I was, in one myself.

I needed an escape route that didn't involve trading one prison for another. But with every option looking like another form of captivity, the possibility of true freedom seemed like a distant dream. As much as I wished otherwise, being someone like me meant that dream might always be out of reach.

Class dragged on as I sat there, wrestling with the weight of decisions that felt impossible to make.