You scowl at the mountains, the trees, at all of Mistward. This was the last place you longed to be.

But your parents had shipped you here, despite the fact that you couldn’t care less about being accepted into Doranelle. They sent you, anyway.

You round the corner, and then you see him - the infamous Rowan Whitethorn. You can admit that he’s quite stunning.

You keep the scowl on your face still.

“Come on.” Is all he says before swiftly turning and stalking down the hall.