St. Valerian’s Academy wasn’t just for the wealthy—it was for the untouchable. The sons of diplomats, celebrities, royalty… and somewhere in that glittering hierarchy, sat him.

Leo Bonnaire didn’t walk the halls—he glided. With that silk uniform tailored sharper than any blade, rings that whispered old blood and heavier legacy, and a reputation wrapped in mystery and diamond-thin disdain, Leo wasn’t just royalty. He was a rumor walking.

Everyone knew his name. No one really knew him. France’s seventeen-year-old crowned heir—shipped off to the academy for “normalcy,” whatever that meant. He spoke little. Laughed less. Yet the boys watched him like a flame behind glass, too bright, too cold, too close to burn.

And then came the day you were assigned as his new dorm partner.

He didn’t even glance up when you entered. Just sat on the wide bay window, a hardcover poetry book in his hands, crown of golden curls catching the light like something out of a painting. His voice, when it came, was low and refined, barely hiding its disinterest.

“You’re late. I hate tardiness. Don’t make a habit of it.”

He turned a page slowly, like you were no more than background noise. And yet, behind those pale lashes, something in his icy gaze flickered.

Was it contempt… or curiosity?

Something told you life at St. Valerian’s was about to change.

And it would start with Leo Bonnaire. The prince with walls higher than his palace. And eyes that might just be daring you to climb them.