a/n:

don't knock the trailer too much T-T -- it's been a hot minute since i've edited anything and half of these are literal gifs 

* * *

"You called her a parasite?" Headmistress Cross seethed. 

"I don't know," Logan mumbled almost inaudibly. He bit the side of his cheek as he turned his head down like a chastised puppy. "Maybe."

Immediately, Headmistress Catarina Cross launched into a tirade, ripping into her son in Cimerian. Neither of them were aware that Cimerian was my native language, but it's rude manners to interrupt people to let them know about such a trivial thing. So, I sat listening in on the headmistress using every single adjective available to the human tongue to express her disappointment in her son. 

She ranted long enough that she ran out of breath, forcing her to steady herself against the grand oak table separating us. One hand was pulling at the silk collar of her blouse while she blew out a frustrated breath. 

"Detention," she eventually ruled. "For the both of you."

"What?!" Logan whipped his head back up. "Headmistress, I didn't do anything!"

"You provoked her." Headmistress Cross then turned to me, the ice in her eyes lessening considerably. "Alex, I understand your emotions, but I also cannot condone physical violence on academy grounds."

Was the headmistress invoking a loophole? "Punch him off campus next time" was the message I was getting. 

"Fine by me," I shrugged, having already expected this outcome from the instant I threw the punch. 

"Mother--"

"Not another word from you." She held up a finger. Logan clenched his jaw but obliged instantly. He lowered his eyes to the ground while he positioned his arms behind his back. Glancing at him from the side, he struck me as a young soldier awaiting his commander's instructions.

I wonder if Captain Cross is as strict on his son as he is with his agents. 

"Since this is the first strike, I won't register the detention on your records. The two of you will be cleaning the lecture halls after exams this week. If you fight again, I will have no choice but to note the detention on your transcripts."

"Understood," Logan said. As customary in Cimeria, Logan bowed to his mother before stalking out of the circular office, glowering at me one final time before the heavy doors shut behind him. 

"Alex, before you go," Headmistress Cross called out as I rose to my feet, "I would like to speak to you about exams."

Oh, no, not this again. 

"If students are still this hostile towards you because of your grades, why don't you allow the administration to publicly rank you for your last few exam seasons?"

"Lady Ca--I mean, Headmistress," I interrupted, having to stop myself from calling her the way I would if I were Park Sparrow. "It's fine. I don't care what happens--I just need my ranking kept private."

Every semester for three years, Headmistress Cross would call me into her office to persuade me into publishing my ranking on the cool ass black board out in the Main Hall. Every semester, I told her no.

Before she could protest, I excused myself from her office and started booking it to the fourth floor to make it for my World Politics exam. However, I couldn't help but slow down as I passed that stupid board again. For almost three consecutive years now, I maintained the number two rank. Only the administration and my professors knew as such. The rest of the student body could only post their conspiracies on the academy social forum. 

Yes, we had a forum. No, I did not post there anonymously to throw people off on their theories.

I hadn't moved to Paradise to make friends or be praised. I'd essentially been dumped on Elijah's doorstep after a royal command from Her Grace. "Get good grades and don't draw attention" were my only instructions. And being known for your grades at St. Cross Academy was sufficient to draw all the unnecessary attention in the word. It signaled success, a wealthy background, and ambition. My classmates would seize any opportunity to network with who they believed could be the next Yale valedictorian. 

Or, you know, the potential future queen of Cimeria.

I dashed up the stairs before the clock struck eight a.m. Nope, I thought. No networking for me.

* * *

"You got detention? For punching Logan Cross?" Elijah repeated over the phone. The sound of steamed milk kept interrupting his words. 

"You shouldn't be on the phone while you're at work, Eli."

"Why can't you just leave the poor boy alone?"

"Poor? Him? He was the one being an asshole!"

"Oh, really? Did Logan dump the drink over you?"

"No." I leaned back against my seat and propped my legs up on the row-long desk. "But he wanted to."

"So now you can read minds," Elijah said, and I could picture him rubbing his temples, an action he frequently performed around me. "Park, you specifically promised everyone--including the queen--that you'd leave Logan alone after that first incident."

Speaking of the devil, the door to the lecture hall swung open and in stomped Logan. He dumped his bag on the floor and pulled off the black sweater of the academy uniform he donned diligently. I watched as he easily rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt to his elbows, and the sunlight that streamed through the arched windows against the wall bounced off the black and gold watch strapped to his wrist. Interestingly, there were white marks all over his forearms. Faded scars, if my experience told me anything. 

Nothing, however, could distract from the beautiful black eye he sported on the left side of his face. 

"Can you get off your ass now?" he asked, picking up the black board duster and immediately brushing away the chalky trigonometric formulas. "I have places to be."

"I have places to be," I repeated in my best Logan impression, though I turned off my phone, cutting my cousin off mid-lecture. The only reaction I got from Logan was silence.

For the first thirty minutes of detention, silence was all there was, save for the sound of me furiously scrubbing away at the desks with Lysol wipes and the sound of Logan repeatedly dumping chalk and dust out an open window. You know, for exam week, professors were still writing on boards a whole lot. 

By the end of the first hour, we managed to clean out three of the smaller lecture halls. Personally, I thought we were making excellent time. However, our progress didn't seem to be good enough for Logan. 

"Will you hurry up, Finch?" Logan finally snapped, halfway through cleaning the fourth room. "At this rate we won't be done until midnight."

"Don't rush me." I sat up from the benches and used a paper towel to scrape off the gum stuck to the pocketknife. "It's not my fault everyone sticks their gum under the desks."

"Scrape faster."

"You already let your friends dump coffee all over me this morning. Do you really want to be more of an asshole than you've already been?"

"I didn't tell them to do it."

"You called me a parasite, too."

"Maybe if you didn't act like one, I wouldn't call you that."

The nerve of this guy. I hopped down the steps of the lecture hall, stopping at the desks up front. Logan was balanced atop the window counter, carefully unlocking the panels so that he could push them outward and dump the dustpan over the tree branches threatening to poke their way into class. 

"Do explain," I said, crossing my arms. Logan jumped down from the counter and brushed past me, refusing to make eye contact. He finished sweeping the front floors of the room and for a while it seemed like he had no intention of answering me. In fact, he said nothing at all even though we swept through the next two floors at a perfectly good pace.

I'd given up on ever hearing his voice again and was occupied with crawling through the row of desks collecting candy wrappers when I heard Logan's voice overhead. 

"The academy has never extended scholarships to any of its students. My mother was heavily advised against it when she received your application by past headmasters and the administration. She extended one to you anyway. And to watch you squash her generosity year after year is a little infuriating."

I sat up and rested my arms on the desk. Logan was loosening the dark red tie around his neck as he stood slumped against the black board.

"There's never been a single student in the history of this academy that has graduated with less than a 3.8, but if your performance so far is a solid predictor, then you're well on your way to being the first to do so. And that will forever be the legacy of my mother's time here as headmistress."

"Aw," I said. "Didn't realize you were a momma's boy, Cross."

Logan glowered at me. Protecting the family reputation, huh? I thought while looking at him. I knew all too well what that burden felt like. All of a sudden, I had a newfound sympathy for Logan Cross. It wasn't a lot. But it was enough to make me feel bad for punching him. 

"Can I level with you?" Logan suddenly asked. He moved over to where I sat on the ground.  

"My father is in town. I don't often get to see him, and he'll be leaving by tonight. The faster I'm done with this, the more time I get to spend with him."

So many Cimerians in one town at once. 

"Is this your subtle way to tell me I'm wasting your time?"

"Yeah. Get up, Finch."

Had it been any other reason, I would've cleaned exponentially slower, but knowing Captain Cross, who valued punctuality so much it surprised literally everyone he didn't name his child that, I didn't want Logan to get into too much trouble with his father. 

So, when Logan held out a hand, I placed my palm in his and he hauled me to my feet. 

It took us thirty more minutes to hastily clean up the ground level lecture rooms. By the time Logan and I left the entrance doors, the sun was just starting to fall. The cool air of the evening was settling into the air, flushing out the afternoon heat. I tugged my sweater back over my dress shirt, relishing the smell of mocha. Based on the time, my bus would be here in ten minutes. Or, I could miss the bus and run away from home. 

"Do you need a ride?" 

I stared at Logan. "What?"

He fished his keys out of the pockets of his black slacks and dangled them in front of me. "I'll drive you home if you want."

 In the glow of the setting sun, his features seemed to soften, and he seemed...nicer. Was that the right word? Less hateful. That's better. 

"No, thanks," I declined. There was a bidding war on the forums to see who got to ask Logan to drive them home every week. Too bad I couldn't auction off this once-in-a-lifetime offer. "You'll probably try and crash it to kill me."

Logan rolled his eyes. We walked together for a minute until we reached a divergence in our paths. As he turned towards the parking lot, he paused and glanced at me. "I'm sorry."

His cheeks flushed a bright pink upon saying those words and he hurriedly rushed away, quickly disappearing from my sight, not really giving me a chance to even process that he had willingly given me an apology for the first time in three years.

Shaking off what had to have been a supernatural experience just now (i.e. a benevolent ghost possessed Logan and forced him to apologize), I headed down the block. Right as my ride home arrived, Logan's prized Maserati sped away from the academy. Don't ask me how I recognized it so easily. It has nothing to do with the fact that I spray-painted it on his sixteenth birthday.

What? Don't look at me like that. 

By the time the bus pulled up by Elijah's apartment, the sun was nearing its full descent down past the surrounding mountains. The sky was cast with a delicate shade of periwinkle and orange. It was considerably colder, and I hugged my arms around myself all the way into the building. 

When I got to the third floor, the door of the apartment was propped open by one of the many potted plants that Elijah accidentally killed a few months back. Inside, my father was fluffing the decorative pillows on the couch. Elijah was setting out a platter of tea and traditional Cimerian biscuits on the small wooden coffee table. There was a distinct smell of vanilla in the air. 

A drop of vanilla in a warmed-up and open oven was Elijah's go-to tactic to prepare for guests. Alarm bells went off in my head. Shit, I thought, noticing the manila folder from this morning set next to the biscuits. Already?

"Park, I don't have time to remind you why you can't punch Logan Cross in the face. Right now, I need you to go change," my father instructed. There was a different apron on him now--bright green with little watermelon prints. Also--still not a possession of Elijah or mine. 

"What's the occasion?" I asked, already knowing the answer. 

My father clapped his hands together and whirled around. There was sugar by the corners of his mouth. "It turns out that the bodyguard you chose is available to start immediately!" He beamed at me. "What a stroke of luck! I was worried that arrangements would've taken up to a week or two, but it turns out the agent lives in the states and Leo assured me he could make it here by six!"

I glanced at the clock on the wall: 5:45 p.m.

"Your mother sent you some perfume," Elijah told me as I moved past him. He sniffed the air near my head. "You might want to use a little extra."

I flipped him off when my father wasn't looking before ducking into my room. On my birch desk was a lavender box wrapped in white ribbons along with a white shopping bag marked by the infamous double-C's of the fashion industry. 

Though my mother felt bad about pitching the idea to have me move here, she tried to make it up by always having my father bring me gifts as token of her apologies. Most of the stuff she sent me I ended up donating, as Alex Finch had no reason to wear designer clothes out in public. 

I rummaged through the bag and pulled out a white midi-dress and a matching white cropped jacket with black buttons and stitching. There was a corresponding pair of pale pink heels. This was an outfit more suited for a luxurious brunch or a date. Oh, well. It's not like I had anything that screamed royalty in my closet at this point. 

I traded out my uniform for the dress. Elijah was right. The smell of coffee, chocolate, and sweat was just a little too much, but there was no time to shower. I peeled off my wig, and then combed out the long dark brown braids of my hair. There was no time to curl the strands, so I pulled all of it into a decent ponytail. 

After seating myself at my desk, I wiped away a day's worth of oil and sweat, then began applying a light layer of foundation. I filled in my eyebrows and curled my lashes before combing through them with mascara. I applied a tinge of wine-colored blush to the apples of my cheek, swept some highlighter over the high points of my face, and stained my lips with the shade of roses. 

This is weird, I thought, staring at myself all done up and polished. It'd been three years since I'd done anything to be Park Sparrow, Princess of Cimeria. In a few minutes, I was going to meet a bodyguard. It was like Alex Finch never existed. 

Right then, a deep, booming voice greeted my father warmly from the living room. That was the cue. I got up and smoothed my dress. In one final touch, I sprayed the Chanel perfume all over the air, walked through it, and then entered the hallway. 

I wondered what this bodyguard would be like. All my prior ones had typically been retired, hardened militia men or decorated agents of various security agencies around the world. My family never hired younger agents. Would this person be just as easily bought out as all the rest of them?

I watched as Captain Leo Cross stride towards my father. The two men gripped each other's forearms, gave two vigorous shakes, before embracing one another. Meanwhile, Elijah was nowhere to be seen. He was probably hiding out at his coffee shop downstairs since he wasn't fond of just about anyone in the clans. 

Captain Leo was Lord of the Cross clan in Cimeria. He'd served in the Cimerian army, his military title deriving from his post as Captain of the First Division. The Cross clan was also in charge of the Chamber of Security, Cimeria's national security and defense branch. 

The Captain was an imposing man with incredibly broad shoulders and untamed brown hair singed red at the ends for all the time he spent in the sun. He had a scar at the base of his throat, a souvenir of his time as my father's bodyguard. In spite of his fierce appearance, the Captain was one of the most law-abiding citizens in the country, widely known for his inability to break a rule and strict adherence to order--traits his son inherited quite aggressively. 

Captain Leo's smile only grew larger when he saw me. A few feet away, he stopped and instigated a deep bow. Afterwards, he exclaimed, "You look just like your father!" and pulled me in for a tight hug. "Both you and Archer."

My shoulders tensed at the mention of my older brother's name, but it wasn't something I could linger on too long because Captain Leo gestured for someone else to step forward. A familiar chill trickled down my spine. 

This is why you read things before you make life-altering decisions! my head screamed. 

He had changed out of the academy uniform into a black, well-tailored suit made of the finest Italian silk. Maybe it was the outfit that made him feel more terrifying. It emphasized the broad shoulders he'd inherited from his father and the black seemed to add to his height and build. His dark hair was groomed back like usual, with the same few stray strands lingering on his forehead. 

He was fixing the cuff links around his wrist, an action he completed smoothly, then he looked at me. And for once, Logan Cross looked happy to see me. 

Like his father, he halted a few feet away and bowed with one arm behind his back and a fist against his heart, a position of utmost respect in Cimerian etiquette. 

"It's an honor to meet you, Your Highness," he spoke in fluent Cimerian before extending a hand out to me. 

Logan Cross was my bodyguard. Logan Cross. The devil himself. Evil summoned from the deepest pits of the Underworld. 

Everyone was staring at me. From behind everyone's back, my father mouthed, "Shake his hand!" He mimed a handshake and an overjoyed expression, only stopping when Captain Leo turned back to look at him. Logan actually looked worried. Hurt, even. 

"Your Highness?" he repeated. Oh god, oh god, oh god. 

Finally, I placed my palm against his and squeezed it. At that small motion, Logan froze. His hazel eyes narrowed at first as he looked down to my hand and then back up at me. He did that a few more times until eventually, he met my gaze directly. The longer he stared, the larger his eyes grew. His lips parted. 

"Finch?" 

I should've read the fucking file. "The one and only." 

* * * 

a/n:

hey guys, there's a few things i wanted to discuss: 

(1) exam season is starting next week for me so there probably won't be any uploads for at least two weeks -- apologies about that !

(3) if anyone edits trailers/book edits better than me (and uh, all of you probably do), pls leave a comment on software/programs/photo sites you use to make them! i'd love to improve my own editing skills

(4) okay this is the big one: i've been getting a lot of requests to re-upload the original versions of IPY. a lot of you are coming from really kind places and i do understand that it sucks to be stuck with a 3 chapter version when it's quarantine time and there's nothing else to do. that said, there are a lot of reasons why i'm not keen on uploading the originals 

> there's a really high chance that the originals will divert readers from the current version that i would prefer people to read. both of the original versions do have higher read counts and readers tend to click more on the story that has more views. while i do hope that people uhhhhhh want to read the same story 3 different times, there's always a chance that my work now will suffer and it's just not something fun to deal with 

> I also really...really...don't want to deal with anymore comments that try and tell me "why are you editing??? I love the original versions!! they're so much better!" or comments that do literal comparisons on what they preferred in the original versions. and it's a high possibility that these comments will merely increase

> it may also confuse completely new readers who come to my page and see three different rewrites of IPY, and I'll have to go through all the comments to delete spoilers 

> LMAO but all that being said -- I get it. so: I'll be re-uploading the OG version of IPY (circa 2013??????) and version 2 (circa 2016/2017). they may be up indefinitely, I might just keep them up for a month or two, but y'all asked so I delivered -

keep an eye out today and tomorrow -- hopefully, I'll have everything up by then!

ciao for now -- knee