The Hidden Princess At All-Boys Alpha Academy

I gape a little as we walk down the long, dark tunnel towards…

I mean, I don’t even know what we’re walking towards.

“Where are we going?” I ask Rafe, a little breathless with intrigue and excitement.

“Into the Academy,” he hisses back, like it’s a secret, but I know he’s kidding even before I glare up at him.

“Uniforms,” Jesse says smoothly, running a hand through his hair like he’s very suave. “We’ve got to get fitted, because Academy cadets always look good.”

“What?” I say, a little confused. “Honestly, that can’t be first –”

“His dad,” Rafe says, “the vainest man in the world –”

“Um, justifiably,” Jesse counters, grinning.

“Yeah, whatever,” Rafe says, grinning, “anyway, Uncle Roger really did decide that all of the cadets enrolled here need to look their best at all times. So, yeah,” he shrugs, “first thing is fittings for uniforms.”

“Whoa,” I say, and my awe is not simply for Uncle Roger’s semi–predictable flare for looking good, but also for the cavernous room we walk into next. Because, I mean, the tunnel was literally just that a tunnel, with rough walls and low lighting.

But this?

“Damn,” Luca says, a smirk on his face as he comes up next to Jesse. “Looks like this city boy has finally made it, haven’t I?‘

I nod as I stare around the room, with its three–story arching stone ceilings and polished floors. And I mean, this is the bottom of the castle, where I assumed the dungeons were. If this is here, what the hell is upstairs?

“This way,” Rafe says, tugging me along towards a line of professors waiting at a set of tables ahead of us, a set of boxes in front of them.

“Ah, Cadet Sinclair,” one of the professors says, smiling at Rafe as he steps forward. “Naturally we thought you’d be one of the first to appear, but now I see that you

were waiting for…” he peers beyond Rafe and blinks a little at Ben and 1, clearly having no idea who we are.

“Some friends.” Rafe says blandly, smiling at the professor and putting on his best Prince and Heir persona. “Is there something here we need to collect?”

“Your temporary uniform,” the professor says, smiling and lifting a box into Rafe’s arms, “sized according to your candidate apparel. Also within the box is your dorm information and key, the Cadet Handbook, and a map of the parts of the castle which you’ll need to find your classes. Class information will be along this evening shortly after your meal.”

I peer around Rafe, listening interestedly, and I jump a little when I hear my own

name.

“Cadet Clark,” the professor repeats, and as I turn I realize with surprise that it’s the dark–haired professor again – the one who made us hold that strange orb this afternoon. I move eagerly towards him, seeing he has what I assume is my box in his hands. “Congratulations, Cadet.” he says, his voice dry and amused in a way that makes me look up into his eyes as I take the box from his hands.

“Thank you,” I say, and then I hesitate because…I mean, he’s just staring at me in this knowing way.

“You’re welcome,” he says softly. “I’ll look forward to seeing much, much more of you, Cadet…Clark.”

My lips twist up into a practiced smile, a knee–jerk reaction after years of Princess training that taught me to be sweet to anyone who says they look forward to seeing me again, but my reaction just makes his own smile deepen. And suddenly, as he holds my gaze, I get the sneaking suspicion that he knows….absolutely everything about me.

As I back away from him I realize that I am on much shakier ground here, and under a great deal more scrutiny, as a cadet in the Academy than as a candidate in the barracks.

I clear my throat, straightening my shoulders, doing my best to be, I don’t know, masculine. “Thank you, sir,” I say seriously. “I’ll look forward to you seeing you, 100.”

But he just chuckles a little, clearly pleased and entertained, and nods to me.

And I scowl, turning away as Luca, Ben, and Jesse accept their own boxes, my mind racing as I follow Rafe to the next step in our process.

Rafe’s already rifling through his box as we step into the next room, which is smaller and has walls covered in mirrors. I look around passively, my mind still reeling from my interaction to the professor, who was the second person to tell me today that they’re going to see more of me…

What the hell do the Captain and this brown–haired professor teach? They’re so different – I can’t imagine, at all, that they’d teach something together. So…..

But suddenly my eyes lock on a figure across the room and I go very still in shock before I suddenly burst out laughing, realizing that I’m looking at myself in the mirror on the far wall.

“What?” Jesse asks, coming to my side.

“Seriously?” I say, grinning at myself as I turn a little, observing my plain face with no makeup, my hair tucked expertly up below my cap, my baggy fatigues. “That’s what I look like?”

Jesse frowns at me for a second and then looks across the room like I’m doing, his face bursting into a grin as he sees my reflection there too. He laughs. “Yup! You look good, Shrimpy!”

“No wonder no one takes me seriously,” I murmur. Because honestly, I do look like a boy, but I’m sure that I’m the smallest, wimpiest, most pink–cheeked little guy that’s ever walked through these doors.

“Don’t worry,” a girl’s voice says, and I go still when I hear it, turning towards it in shock as she laughs a little too and waves me forward. I mean, it’s not like I recognize the voice or anything – it’s just….a girl. “A lot of guys have that reaction when they see themselves for the first time in candidate grey after two weeks,” she says, smiling at me.

She nods to the round platform in front of which she kneels on a little ottoman. “Come forward,” she says. “I’ll take your measurements, and we’ll have you looking dashing in a custom uniform before you know it.” This belongs to NôvelDrama.Org: ©.

I hesitate, realizing suddenly that this young woman

she wants to touch my

body, to figure out the precise dimensions of my form. And while my baggy candidate uniform conceals everything about my slight figure…

SUN, LU Mar

She is going to have access to some details I don’t want anyone to have.

The girl shrugs. “No worries, if you’re shy, I can take someone else first

I glance quickly where Rafe and Jesse are already standing on platforms, but when I see that their tailors are older men…

“Til go,” Luca says, starting to.walk past me and flashing his charming smile at the girl tailor, who is probably just about my age. “Hi, my name is Luca, it’s lovely to meet you –”

“Hey, no cutting.” Ben says as I squeak a little, realizing I’m losing my chance to be measured by the only girl here. Luca falls back a step as Ben grabs him by the sleeve. “Let Ari go first, cheater.”

“I was called before Ari,” Luca protests, but I scurry forward and Luca just laughs, letting me.

Almost shaking with anxiety, because this could go very wrong, I step onto the platform.

“Congratulations,” the girl says, smiling up at me. “Can you tell me your name for the list?

I do so, and she makes a note on the pad next to her before reaching for her measuring tape.

“Um,” I say, looking anxiously at my brother and cousin for help, but they’re talking to each other and have apparently forgotten all about me. “Listen, you don’t really have to take measurements for me, you can just…give me a uniform the same size as this one that I’m laughing.

Unfortunately, the girl just laughs as she reaches forward, starting to measure the length of my leg from my hip to the floor. “Cadet Clark, you are swimming in this uniform. Don’t worry – we’ll get you suited up very nicely – sharp and trim!”

“No, really,” I protest, taking a step forward as she stands and moves behind me, tugging the pack from my back even as I try to cling to it. “Honestly, I prefer to be…unfitted…” She scolds me good naturedly for being so shy before measuring the width of my shoulders and then the length from the name of my neck to my lower back.

I jump a little as her hand grazes the top of my butt, but she just laughs at me

12:45 Sun, 10 MT

again, going on with her work, and suddenly her hands appear in front of me as she passes the tape from one hand to the other, starting to loop it around my

chest.

“No, please.” I whisper, begging and doing my best to spin around.

But the girl, she just keeps going. “What, are you ticklish?” she laughs, her words. kind and teasing as her hands move lightning–fast in a practiced manner, tightening the tape first around my chest, and then my waist, and then my hips.

I hold my breath as her hands go still and she raises her head, her eyes slowly meeting mine as she considers the particular ratio of my dimensions.