She felt as though she had turned into a princess.

Apple sashayed through the halls of Demach in a flimsy pink dress that smelled of sweet perfume. Her ornate velvet shoes made her every step seem as though she was walking on clouds. She loved the feel of it. She touched the beautiful glinting jade stone of the necklace the prince had lent her, hoping somebody had noticed.

"A great morning," she sang to the academy guard who flinched in surprise but quickly greeted back. "A pleasant morning, my lady."

"Hihi," she giggled to herself. He thought I was a noble.

She lowered to a curtsy the way she saw the highborn ladies do it.

"Are you perhaps going to the Testing Hall?"

She nodded, smirking.

The guard returned her cheeriness and politely volunteered to lead her there.

Be kind. Charm them. You are a natural at it. Father had told her. Try to find him. But also, have fun.

The gallant Prince Raphael had a different advice. "Impress them. You do not need to pass the written test. Just make their jaws drop with your talent."

The crown had gifted Apple and Julius a small house inside the city. They lavished her with new clothes, shoes and jewelry. In exchange, she had to attend the Demach Academy, later to pledge herself to the King's Holy Army, under which she shall serve for at least ten years.

A lass of fifteen, Apple could not grasp completely what that agreement entailed. Entering Demach was akin to a fantasy for a village girl. And the future seemed too far off. And ten years of servitude, too long. She loved the cakes they bought her however, and the freshly washed clothes that smelled of lavender. It seemed to her she was not losing out on this transaction at all. And she was about to attend Demach Academy with all the lords and ladies of Araya! No one could be luckier than I, she thought.

After the contract was written in stone, Father had said to her, "We had no option but to agree. If they couldn't get you under their reins, I'm pretty sure they won't let anybody make use of you either. We just need to be careful, my sweet daughter."

Indeed. Apple understood that much. With just a word from the highest ruler of the kingdom, they could either elevate her or destroy her. The King could have demanded for her servility but instead chose to treat her kindly.

The mutterings and murmurs of other aspiring scholars soon reached her ears. I have to tone it down a bit. But be friendly. Be friendly. She inhaled and recomposed herself before she stepped into their view.

The striking pink dress would catch anyone's eyes. Some of them turned their heads, most of them boys.

"I'm Apple," she introduced to no one in particular. "It's nice to meet all of you."

A few of them who looked as lowborn as her greeted back, mistaking her for a lord's daughter.

With just one whiff of the air around the crowd, she could pinpoint who carried holy energy and the poor souls who had none. More importantly she had a keen sense for sniffing out demonic energy. One her father said was superior among her age. The waiting hall, to her delight, smelled as clean as fresh parchment.

She had smelled demonic energy before, and it made her retch. It was a smell too putrid to compare to anything.

"Wow," Apple gaped, sniffing. "She has power more than mine. But it seems so volatile." Like a dam about to break. She could smell the bursts of holy energy seeping through the cracks of the vessel.

The subject of her interest was a ginger-haired girl who stood taller than her by at least an inch. She wore a red torc necklace in the shape of salmons lined up mouth to tail — a house sigil that Apple found unfamiliar.

"What are you doing?" The ginger head said, having noticed her sniffing closer than comfort.

Now, they will think I'm strange! "You use a great perfume," Apple lied, "Is it perhaps from the tropic islands?"

"So, you've noticed," she said proudly, "My uncle brought it from his last voyage."

"I'm Apple of Heinstead." She offered a handshake.

"Oh, a commoner." Her brow raised, suddenly indignant.

One of the boys in her company spoke up aggressively, "You should have engaged her with more deference."

They were enraged at her lack of due respect entitled to a noble, it seemed. It never quite rolled nicely in her tongue to address them as my ladies or my lords.

"No need," the ginger head said, "In Demach, only holy power determines our status. I'm Diana Ru —"

Diana suddenly froze, her eyes gazing behind Apple.

She turned to see what had rendered her silent. Apple too was stunned. No way my sense of smell missed him at this close! There stood just at arm's length was a lad of the prettiest golden hair in a loose-fitting black doublet. His hair so dazzlingly golden the princes paled in comparison. His chiseled features were adorned by a pair of eyes that seemed to mirror an ocean in the doldrums.

Perhaps realizing that he had earned unbidden attention, he stared back at them confused but then bowed deeply in haste. "My ladies, my lords. Forgive me if I did something wrong."

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"Why are you here?" Diana snapped, barely keeping her noble composure.

Apple could hear the resentment, bare and crisp.

The golden-haired lad rose from his submissive stance and answered plainly, "I'm here to take the Test, my lady."

Other people grunted. His simple answer made Diana seem stupid. Her nose flared at the insult.

"I'm leaving you alone for now, for my family's honor," she said, turning away.

A look of realization dawned on his pale milky face. "I apologize, my lady, if anything I did offended you."

Diana paused and uttered without looking back, "Offended me? Is that how you remember it?"

Apple watched her and her company melt into the crowd. A history of animosity. It certainly made academy life interesting.

"Did you do something terrible to her?" Apple accosted the golden-haired stranger.

"I think so. Otherwise, she would not have disliked me so much."

Apple's veins twitched at his response. "You think so?"

"Sorry, did I anger you too?"

She shook her head, lips arched, remembering her grace. "No." Well in his defense, nobles were easily vexed. "I'm Apple by the way, Apple of Heinstead."

He took her hand. "I'm Lucas."

"Are you a prince?" Apple had to ask even if it sounded stupid. Only a prince should look this heavenly.

"I'm just Lucas of Vermil."

A bastard then? Apple surmised. There was no chance he was just a simple commoner.

But his smell... Why can't I smell the faintest scent from him? She wanted to sniff him closely but that would be insanity.

Soon they were called into the large auditorium to take the written test on Mathematics, Language and Poetry, History and Sciences — one field at a time.

Apple took a seat at the front row where the professor and the other test-takers could glimpse how regally she was dressed. Laid before her, the parchment containing the Mathematical questions were at least as thick as her smallest finger, the scribblings and symbols so small they were intelligible to her.

She flipped the first page and smirked, putting the leaf of parchment back down.

The Second Prince is right. I just need to impress them with my holy power.

She had completely given up on the written test. Most of the commoners did too, she realized as she glanced behind her.

Except the golden-haired Lucas of Vermil. I knew it, he was lying. He wasn't a commoner at all. He had been taught. He has knowledge.

But it turned out, whatever knowledge he had seemed lacking as he began to show visible signs of struggle. Discreetly observing him from the periphery of her eye, Apple saw him scratching his head and crunching his face while turning the parchments over to look for easier questions. Even as he appeared too distressed to think, he kept scribbling and turning the pages, never giving up until the sand in the hourglass was finished and the professor yelled, "Quills up. Let's proceed to the next one on Language and Poetry."

Their parchments were collected, and new ones were placed on the desks. The Professor turned over the hourglass, announcing, "Proceed!"

Apple did not even bother to look upon the test. Songs and poetry were for the highborn. Her eyes naturally wandered to the bright figure in the corner of the auditorium. He was undeniably in panic but he seemed unable to relent.

He was in the same state of hysteria in the tests on Arayan History and the Sciences.

After the storm had subsided and the last paper collected, the professor informed them, "Results will be posted in a day or two. If you wish to take the aptitude test on your holy power, please head over to the Henge Field. You can ask the guards for directions."

The other lads and ladies filed out of the room but Lucas remained dazed in his seat as if in a stupor.

Diana stood over him and grumbled in challenge, "Hey, I want you to witness how strong I am. I'll see you at the Training Field. I want you to fear me."

He looked downcast at the empty space where the parchments had been, wordless. He did not even seem to hear her.

She slammed the table in ire.

He jerked alive, noticing her at last. He piped, "I'm sorry. My lady, were you saying something?"

"You are just blatantly ignoring me now. Just you wait, you have no family to protect you now." She stomped away.

He watched her disappear through the door.

Apple walked up the steps toward his spot. "Lucas of Vermil, how did the test go?"

His face was drained of color, even much more pallid than before. "I don't think you will be seeing me here in a week."

"Don't fret. You have another chance. We can go together to the Henge Field."

He saddened, "But I don't have holy power."

Apple knew that much. He did not smell of the pleasant aroma that divinity exuded. He did not smell of anything at all. She wanted to get closer to sniff him but stopped herself. "Then, since this might be the last time we see each other, why don't you just come and watch me? You'll be impressed."

"Can I?" he asked, brightening.

"Of course."

They were the last ones to arrive. More than a hundred test-takers took the written test everyday weeks before beginning of term. Fewer than half of them had sufficient holy power to be called talented.

They were scattered among the grass, looking up at a professor standing on a stone dais. Around the perimeter towered haphazardly broken slabs of marble etched with holy runes, as though they were trying to contain something. Apple soon found out why.

The rancid disgusting smell of a demon suddenly pervaded the grassy space.