I didn't have the energy to argue as they filed into my luxurious dormitory suite. Cecilia immediately claimed the Italian leather armchair by the glass desk, sprawling in it with casual grace that somehow made the designer seat look like a throne. Her golden curls cascaded over one shoulder as she fixed me with those crimson eyes that had half the Academy's male population wrapped around her finger
Seraphina leaned against the floor-to-ceiling window, her silver hair catching the moonlight that silhouetted her tall, elegant figure. Her ice-blue eyes assessed my condition with clinical detachment. Unlike Cecilia's warmth, Seraphina's half-elven beauty was sharp, precise, dangerous—like the enchanted blade she wielded in combat.
