Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Katarina is dying.

She stares at her mangled and ruined body as she lies on the ground, blood soaking through her dress. The dirt feels calming on her back. She supposes that’s fitting, considering she will be one with it soon.

Her chest is cut open. Parts of her body that should never see daylight are poking out. Katarina is no healer, but she knows a mortal wound when she sees one. There’s no coming back from this.

Gerald looks down at her with pity and disgust. His white uniform is stained red with her blood, complementing the sword that’s covered in it.

“For what it’s worth,” he says, not meeting her eyes, “I’m sorry it came to this. I wish we had never met.”

She tries to chuckle at the absurdity of it all, but only manages to send more of her blood gushing from her mouth. What dreck.

A strange feeling runs through her chest as she sees her would-be-victim put her all into saving her. The commoner's hands glow with such intensity that they hurt to look at, and Katarina can feel her body shift and snap as it desperately tries to stitch itself back together.

It’s not enough. Her vision is dimming quite rapidly.

She turns to look at the light mage with what little energy she has left. They make eye contact. Tears are running from the commoner’s pale blue eyes.

“– don’tdiedon’tdiedon’tdiedon’tdie –”

Katarina isn’t sure what comes over her, but she grabs the commoner’s hand using the last of her strength.

Her mouth moves uselessly, and then everything goes black.

Katarina opens her eyes. She’s in her dorm room.

She looks down and feels her body. Her insides are inside her once more. Cautiously, she peaks under her nightgown. There are no stitches. Not even a scar.

She raises an eyebrow. She knows the commoner is overpowered, but this? She’s never heard of such a powerful light mage!

Then, horror sets in. She’s going to be exiled now. Or worse, executed. They’re holding her here until they figure out what to do with her. She's certain that if she tries to open that door, she’ll be met with a guard. Or worse, find herself face to face with her soon-to-be-former fiancé.

Well, if she is going to die or get banished, she may as well look dignified doing it.

She jumps out of the bed and throws open the closet doors.

Huh. There are five dresses here. Have they fixed hers so quickly? Why bother at all?

She dismisses the thought as she plucks one off the clothes rack. Once she’s done, she moves to the front of her dorm and cautiously reaches toward the door knob. She pushes the door forwards slowly, and peers through the crack.

There’s no-one in the hall.

Cautiously, she steps out. After checking the coast is clear, she quickly hitches up her skirt and takes off running.

The gate. She needs to go to the gate. She’ll requisition a carriage and head to the estate – hopefully the news hasn’t arrived yet, but even if it has, she can probably get the staff to look the other way – grab her valuables, and make a bee-line for the nearest country. She has no intention of even giving the third prince the option of lopping off her head. If the choices are exile or death, then she chooses exile. It will be her decision, not his.

“Lady Katarina?”

The only reason she doesn’t take off in a terrified sprint is because she recognizes that voice.

“Sienna?” she says, spinning to face her.

Sienna looks at her with concern in her eyes. “Is something wrong?”

Sienna is one of the few people Katarina permits to call her by her first name. The young noble has proven herself to be her staunchest ally, and Katarina has grown fond of her company.

She is also one of the vanishingly few people Katarina can trust right now.

Katarina clasps her hands together and brings them close to her chest. “You have to help me, Sienna! The guards will notice I’m missing any moment now! Stall them!”

Confusion washes across Sienna’s elegant features, but it very quickly hardens into resolute determination. “Go! I’ll point them in the wrong direction!”

Katarina nods, hitches up her skirt, and takes off running once more. She spares one glance back at the noblewoman. She will miss Sienna. People with that kind of loyalty are rarer than gold.

Katarina turns the corner and comes face-to-face with her worst nightmare. Standing before her is the third prince, carrying a stack of textbooks. At least his elegant white uniform is not stained with her blood. For now.

His sharp features twist in confusion as he locks eyes with her. “Katarina?”

She screams and takes off in the other direction, hearing the ‘thump’ of his textbooks hitting the floor behind her. He must be giving chase!

She runs even more frantically as the scene of the prince plunging his sword into her chest replays in her mind. She is dead. She will be dead. That commoner shouldn’t have even bothered saving her – the universe is clearly out for her head.

She gasps in shock as her dress slips from her fingers. She reaches for the fabric, only to trip and slam against the carpet. She barely holds onto consciousness as her head swims – what is it with her and head trauma anyway?

Now is not the time though. She can hear the approaching footsteps of her former fiancé.

She dizzily attempts to rise to her feet, only to stumble and fall as the world blurs around her. She frantically looks around. Sienna is above her, looking down with concern.

She feels a chill run down her spine as the third prince rounds the corner and locks eyes with her. She once again attempts to rise to her feet, only to stumble and fall once more. As she realizes that standing is evidently not an option in her current state, she settles for a most undignified shuffle away from her would-be-murderer.

“Get away from me!” she cries.

Sienna’s features twist in confusion as she looks between the terrified Lady Claes and the prince, but the noble quickly interjects herself between them. She holds out her arms as if to shield Katarina as she stares defiantly at the royal.

Katarina feels a sting of pride. Sienna is willing to face down a member of the royal family for her?

“Katarina!” shouts the third prince. “What on Earth has gotten into you?!”

She gapes at him in surprise, then balls her fists. As if the cur doesn’t know! “I won’t let you kill me!”

The third prince’s jaw drops.

Sienna glances at Katarina with a concerned expression, only to glare at the prince, eyes filled with ire. “What have you done?”

For perhaps the first time in his life, Gerald is at a loss for words.

“He tried to kill me!” Katarina shouts, pointing at him with a shaking hand. “He stabbed me through the chest with his sword!”

Sienna looks at her with confusion. “He stabbed you through the chest?” Her eyes flit towards Katarina’s midriff. “You look fine, though.”

She feels at little hurt at her ally’s skepticism, but supposes it’s understandable considering the circumstances.

“Evidently that peasant girl is even more overpowered than I thought,” she spits.

“Are you saying that she used her magic to save your life?” Sienna asks. She looks conflicted.

She sighs. Of course Sienna would misunderstand the situation. Still, she can overlook such a minor transgression after the loyalty she has shown today.

“Oh, so holy of her to heal me!” she mocks. “As if she is not the cause of this misery to begin with.”

“Pardon me,” interjects the third prince, the polite mask returning to his face, “but I believe I would recall running you through with my sword.”

She leans towards him from the floor. “Are you saying I am beneath your notice?”

“I am saying I did not attack you.”

She feels her blood run hot. “It’s just like you to try and cover up your transgressions!”

The third prince looks at her coldly. “You’re one to talk.”

“Why, you—”

“I apologize for the interruption,” begins Sienna, “but have you considered there may have been some kind of misunderstanding, Lady Katarina?”

She clenches her fist. The nerve! Sienna has certainly bought herself a lot of favor recently, but she's burning through it equally as fast.

Sienna, oblivious to her ally’s growing anger, continues. “I have never heard of a light mage saving someone from such a grievous injury. Even if she had, would there not be evidence of it, such as a torn shirt or bloodstains?”

“Of course not!” Katarina shouts. “This didn’t happen just now! I had time to get changed!”

“Then can you show us the bloodied dress?” Gerald replies. “If what you allege did indeed happen, you should still have it, no?”

She rolls her eyes. “It was obviously disposed of when I was taken to my dorm room. I awoke in my nightgown, as usual.”

“Awoke? Then you had a nightmare.”

She grits her teeth. “There’s no way that was a nightmare.” It was far, far too real and painful. She's had bad dreams before. Never has a dream made her feel pain, much less pain like that.

Sienna places a hand on her shoulder. “Lady Katarina, I do not wish to dismiss your feelings, but would we have not heard about this? You said it happened some time ago.”

She slaps Sienna’s hand away. “Perhaps you were all too busy preparing for the end of the semester to notice.”

This time, both of them look at her with concern.

“End of the semester?” Gerald says. “Katarina, we’re only a few weeks into it.”

“T-That’s impossible!” she shrieks, before turning towards Sienna. “I was studying for my Theory of Magic exam with you just yesterday!”

The noble and the royal exchange glances and nod.

Sienna leans down and helps Katarina to her feet, draping her arm around her shoulder as to steady her while they walk. By this time, a crowd has formed in the hallway.

“Make way!” the third prince commands as he pushes through them. “My fiancée needs medical attention!”

This is humiliating.

Part of her is grateful to be wrong. Evidently no-one but her can remember what happened – or perhaps it’d be more accurate to say what will happen – so, at least for the moment, she need not fear death or exile. But despite what they tell her, Katarina knows she isn’t delusional. She has the memories of a year of classes. This happened. She is certain of it.

She wonders what deity took pity on her. She supposes she shouldn’t be surprised – she always knew she was destined for great things – but it's still hard to believe that the last several months of her life have been wiped from existence. Why has she been given this second chance? What is she meant to do with it?

“My lady?” says Anne, stepping through the infirmary door.

Katarina beckons her forwards. Once the healers gave up on trying to figure out what was wrong with her, and once she had stopped trying to convince them of the reality of her experiences, the room had emptied out fairly quickly. Sienna had stopped by to see her, but she sent her away. She's still upset by her ally’s doubt. Is her word not enough? Anne, though, is always welcome to stand by her side. Anne has always supported her, never once allowing doubt or hesitation to cloud her judgement.

“Do you believe me?” Katarina asks, after explaining the situation.

The maid is silent for a moment. “It is irrelevant,” she eventually says. “You believe it, and so I will support you either way.”

Katarina smiles at her. Anne's loyalty is unparalleled. When the day comes that she has to leave her side, Katarina will make sure she will never want for anything again.

“Lady Claes, may I ask what do you plan to do?”

“Truthfully, I do not know. It is a lot to take in.”

The maid nods. “I cannot imagine.”

She frowns. “Anne, I have a question.”

“Of course, my lady.”

“Why do you think I was given another chance?”

The maid brings a finger to her chin as she ponders it.

“I mean, I always knew I was special, but I cannot help but wonder why I was chosen specifically,” Katarina continues. “My death, while painful, was but one of many that day.”

“I believe you are asking the wrong question, my lady. We mortals will never be able to comprehend the actions of the gods.” She pauses. “May I suggest an alternate line of questioning?”

“Of course.”

“Do not question why you were brought back. Question what you will do now that you know what is coming.”

Chapter Text

“I want to break off the engagement.”

Gerald raises an eyebrow, frowning slightly as he looks up from his coursework. “Pardon?”

Katarina nods, pointing to her forehead. “My scar has healed, so—” she pauses, taking a deep breath “—there’s no need for you to take responsibility anymore.”

His lips purse into a thin line as he pushes back his chair and rises to his feet. The scar has indeed faded away over the many long years since Katarina entrapped him in this engagement, but she’s always made a show of its presence whenever she felt him slipping from her grasp, to the point of even using makeup to make it appear more disfiguring and prominent. For her to be so frank about the matter is strange, to say the least.

“Is this because of your nightmare?” he asks.

“So what if it is? You have no love for me anyway,” Katarina pouts.

He considers his next move carefully as he stares at her. Oh, there is no love lost between the two of them, and he has every intention of breaking it off once it becomes too burdensome, but she has proven useful, has she not?

Before this engagement, he contended with an endless stream of suitors jostling for his attention: Noble parents would parade their daughters before him, hoping theirs would catch his fancy, false rumors were spread to pressure him, and political factions pledged their support if he chose a candidate that would increase their standing. In truth, it was beyond irritating: He could not care less about any of it. Yet it would not stop so long as he remained without a bride-to-be.

It was for that reason that he had not resisted Katarina’s demand for an engagement. He had anticipated her actions, of course, but she was convenient enough. Of course, he was blissfully unaware of how grating her “affections” would prove to be.

Even so, his engagement has reduced the demands made of him. While it is true that those who wish to use him to increase their standing merely cloak their attempts, and that his appearance and status cause many young noblewomen to approach him with ulterior motives, he is already swarmed with suitors at every event. Without the engagement to protect him, it would be even worse.

Yes. She is still useful.

“What are you talking about, Katarina?” he smiles. “Your scar is still clear as day.”

Her eyes go wide. “W-What?”

“As you’ve said many times before, it’s only proper for me to take responsibility for my actions.” A part of him enjoys seeing the hurt in her eyes as he turns her words against her.

“Why not break it off?” Katarina says, her voice a little shaky. “You love that commoner girl!”

Ever since the day he met the light mage, Katarina has become convinced that he is in love with Maria Campbell. He is surprised that his fiancée is astute enough to recognize his attraction, but love? Hardly. She is simply fun to toy with. After all, love is a burdensome affair. He has no use for such irrelevant emotions.

“My, Katarina, that nightmare must have really shaken you. To say something like that all the sudden… Are you sure you’re not confusing it with reality again?”

“You were flirting with her earlier today!” she whines.

“Flirting? That was a misunderstanding, Katarina. One that has been resolved. Still, is that why you speak so lowly of her?” he asks, grinning at Katarina’s flustered reaction.

“T-That’s beside the point!” she stammers.

“You’re right,” he replies. “The point is that cancelling our engagement is impossible, wouldn’t you say?”

Truthfully, Gerald has found himself enjoying these last few days. Katarina had been such a bore, and he once dreaded having to spend the whole semester with her in the academy. But this? This is interesting.

Besides, it is quite amusing to see his fiancée so worked-up about the matter.

“You black-hearted sadist!” she shouts, glaring at him. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

His grin widens. “Perhaps.”

Katarina lazily flips through her textbook as she sits in the library alongside Sienna. Yup. Same old material. Study sessions are always a bore, but at least before she had not literally been going over the same concepts she’s already seen.

Sienna leans over to her and points to a rune in their textbook. “I don’t really understand how this barrier rune is any different from a shielding rune.”

Katarina leans over and points at the illustration. “Barrier runes physically block attacks, while shielding runes make it so they never even hit.”

The blonde nods. “Ah. That makes sense. The wording in the book was confusing.”

“Think of it this way,” Katarina offers, “barriers get battered, shields circumvent.”

Sienna nods. “Huh. That’s pretty clever. Did you come up with that?”

No, Sienna herself did.

“Yes, I did.”

Sienna smiles at her and returns to her studies. Katarina just sighs and leans back in her chair. Honestly, why even bother studying this time around? Sure, she can probably bump up her score, but she didn’t do that badly when she last took the achievement exams. At least, not badly enough that she has reason to care.

Wait. She has taken the exams before. They will be the same questions.

A sadistic grin creeps across her face. “Sienna?”

Sienna doesn’t look up from her book. “Yes, Lady Kat- I mean, Lady Claes?”

“How long is it until exams again?”

Sienna pauses for a moment as she racks her mind. “They begin next week.”

Katarina laughs. Oh sure, she doesn’t remember everything, but with a week to fill in the gaps…

Sienna looks at her with some concern, and Katarina quickly stifles her laughter.

“Lady Claes? Are you alright?”

Katarina turns towards her with a glint in her eye. “What if I told you I just devised the perfect plan to wipe that stupid grin off Prince Gerald’s face?”

Sienna looks unamused. “I’m not cheating for you.”

Katarina rolls her eyes and waves her hand dismissively. “Oh, you of little faith.”

“Then… what do you have in mind?”

“Nothing more than a few extra study sessions with my favorite study partner.”

Sienna’s skeptical expression doesn’t wane. “You think that’s going to be enough to beat your fiancé?”

“Sienna, Sienna, Sienna,” Katarina tuts, wagging her finger. “This is why you lost your first-name privileges.”

Gerald Stuart, third prince of Sorciér, confidently strides forwards and looks upon the noticeboard. His name, as befitting his status, is of course—

“Second?!” he shouts.

Impossible! It’s impossible! He knows for a fact he’d gotten every single question on every exam right! Who has bested him? Who has proven themselves to be his mental superior? Who? Who!?

His eyes widen as he sees exactly whose name rests at the top of the leaderboard, and Gerald fears for his sanity. For the challenger that had bested him in a battle of wits, and is thereby the most accomplished first-year student, is none other than—

“Katarina Claes!” a voice shouts from behind the crowd. Several students yelp in terror as the fourth prince, Alan Stuart, pushes his way through them. “How!?” he shouts, his blue eyes wide as he lunges towards Katarina. “How did you do it?”

Katarina smiles wickedly. “Why, the same way anyone would do it. I studied, of course.”

Gerald raises a brow, placid smile still affixed to his face. “Is that so? No… other methods?”

She crosses her arms and fixes Gerald with a smug grin. “Come now, Gerald. It’s unbefitting of a royal to accuse his future wife of such misconduct.”

Gerald’s smile strains. Even if he did not already have suspicions, the way she is acting only confirms foul play.

His brother evidently concurs. “I have been trying to beat him my whole life.” Alan grits his teeth. “It’s. Not. That. Simple.”

Katarina leans back and plasters a surprised expression on her face. “I had no idea you two would get so worked up over this!” she says in a tone of voice that confirms the opposite. “But you can check with the professors, and the graders, and the librarians! I’ve been too busy studying to have time for any of what you claim!”

“May I have your attention, please!” calls out a voice.

All three of them turn towards its source, revealing a short red-haired boy: Sirius Dieke, head of the Student Council.

“I can confirm that the teaching staff have conducted an audit of the test results and have discovered no discrepancies. While Lady Claes had a rough start, she has been performing similarly well on all her assignments in these last weeks. In fact, if she keeps it up, she’ll be this year’s valedictorian.”

For the second time in two weeks, Gerald’s jaw drops. Has the world gone mad?

However, before Sirius is able to continue, Alan steps towards the object of their conversation.

“I can see I was wrong to underestimate you, Katarina Claes.”

“Naturally.”

“That’s why, as of this moment, I declare you my rival!”

Katarina’s smug expression falters. “Rival?”

The fourth prince’s face twists in anger. “Don’t you dare look down on me!” he shouts, before storming off in a huff.

Katarina looks at him as he merges into the crowd of students. “Wait,” she mumbles. “Last time, he—” Then, she goes as white as a bedsheet. “Oh.”

She jumps as Gerald lays a hand on her shoulder. “A-Ah! Gerald!”

He looks down at her, scrutinizing her features even as a smile remains on his face. “What are you scheming, Katarina?”

She just smiles. “I’m telling you, Gerald. I really did just study a lot.”

“Perhaps in the last week, but that would not explain your performance today.”

“Oh come now, Gerald,” she says. Her expression turns positively vicious. “I had just as much time as you.”

A chill runs down his spine.

“Pardon me for interrupting,” begins Sirius, who quickly slides between them, “but I believe congratulations are in order.” He grabs Katarina’s hand and shakes it. “Welcome to the Student Council, Lady Claes,” he says, smiling. “I’m looking forward to working with you!”

Katarina freezes, her blue eyes going wide. “Pardon?”

Chapter Text

Mary Hunt’s heart falls as she looks at the leaderboard. There are six slots open for the Student Council this year. Alan made the cut. She did not.

She looks at the name at the top of the list: Katarina Claes, daughter of Duke Claes and wife-to-be of the third prince. According to the rumors, the lady is similarly cruel and twisted. It is not surprising, then, that the two of them are betrothed.

Her frown deepens as she flits to the second name on the list. Gerald Stuart. Needless to say, she does not think highly of him. Even before the rumors of his true personality began to affect his reputation, she saw him for what he is. Her fiancé – poor, poor, Alan – is always trying to best him, but his efforts to be noticed - to have his brother acknowledge his value as a person - only solicit scorn.

She raises her fan to conceal a most unladylike scowl as images of her mocking stepsisters flash through her mind. How rotten this world is, that people like that hold such power.

“Lady Hunt,” says the voice of her fiancé.

She quickly turns to face him and lowers her fan as a smile returns to her face. “Alan. It is good to see you. I was looking all over.”

He nods with a grunt.

“Congratulations on making it to the Student Council!” she says, carefully tiptoeing past the topic of rankings. “I was hoping I could join you, but alas, it appears it was not meant to be.”

He looks surprised. “Oh yeah! You just barely missed the cut-off!”

She hopes he doesn’t notice her eye twitch.

“Anyway,” she says, recomposing herself. “I do hope your new duties will not keep you from me too often. I do so enjoy spending time with you.”

You are valuable, no matter what your awful brother says about you. Why can’t you see it?

“Ah! Sorry Mary, but I’m going to be pretty busy now that I have a new rival.”

Her heart stops, and she desperately hopes she did not hear him correctly. “Pardon?”

Alan looks away and sheepishly rubs the back of his head. “Yeah. Lady Claes figured out how to beat Gerald, so now I need to beat her instead.”

The fan is back up, hiding her deepening frown. “Are you not satisfied with seeing Prince Gerald surpassed, even if it is by another’s hand?”

“She’s still my brother’s fiancé,” he replies, as though the answer is obvious. “Plus, even that commoner beat me this time, so I really need Lady Claes’ secret.”

Her eyes narrow as she sinks further behind her fan. “They say she has gone mad. Have you not heard the rumors?”

Alan’s expression darkens. “If that’s what I have to do to beat Gerald, then it’s a price I’m willing to pay.”

She wants to scream out his name and slap him across the face. She wants to sob and call him foolish while she surrounds him in a tight embrace. Can he not see that she loves him? Can he not see that she would go to the ends of the Earth for him?

Instead, she takes a shaky breath and says nothing. A lady is calm. A lady is collected. A lady does not act on such desires.

She watches quietly as Alan says his farewells and heads down the hall.

There’s a quiet snap as the fan breaks beneath her grip.

Katarina strongly resists the urge to bury her face in the textbook before her. Her body aches, and whenever she blinks, facts and figures zip past her eyes. Her mind screams for rest.

What is she doing? She isn’t book dumb, but she’s going to have to work twice as hard as everyone else to keep this up – quite literally, considering the work she has already put in.

She recalls the look of utter confusion plastered across her so-called fiancé’s face and smiles. Okay, maybe that had been worth it.

Still, can she really keep this up forever? Her fiancé is not normally the studious type, but the only thing he hates more than putting in effort are slights to his reputation. If he studies even half as hard as she is – and he will, now that he sees her as a threat – there is little question whose name will be at the top of the leaderboard the next time around.

A seat on the Student Council is certainly prestigious, and she is looking forward to her newfound power. However, now she has even more work to do. Even worse, it means she will be forced to spend time with her detestable ‘brother’ and that lowly commoner. She can at least take heart in the fact that her results grant her seniority over both of them. Even her so-called ‘prince’ is below her in the eyes of council proceedings.

She taps a finger on the desk as she runs a hand through her brown hair. Still, this complicates things. Overt misbehavior as a student council member will not be tolerated. That commoner is too spineless to ever act against her, but she knows far too well that the same cannot be said of her allies. She does not want to lose her position – not only would it be humiliating, but she craves the power it gives her – but it is as much a blessing as it is a liability.

So, Katarina Claes is going to have to be more subtle.

Her mind flips back to the first encounter she had with the peasant. What is it she had been holding back then… a basket of sweets? For the council, she had claimed.

Katarina, of course, had seen through the deception immediately. It was obvious the commoner was really after her fiancé! So she had Mirabelle and Bethany show her exactly what they thought of her sweets! Or rather, they’d tried, before Prince Gerald – the traitorous wretch – appeared in person and sent them fleeing.

…Come to think of it, where had the commoner been baking them? She could not have been hauling them in from off-campus.

Her eyes widen, and a dark grin spreads across her face.

“I’m sorry, Miss Campbell, but I can’t let you use the kitchen anymore.”

Maria looks up at the head chef with some confusion. The woman looks apologetic as she crosses her arms over her apron.

“We’ve received a letter from the baking club. Evidently, they’ve noticed that some of their ingredients have gone missing, and accused us of stealing from the kitchen. I tried to get one of them down here so I could explain the situation, but none of them would accept my invitation. So, I covered for you and said we’d simply misplaced them, and promised it wouldn’t happen again.”

“O-Oh,” says Maria, looking down at the floor.

The woman purses her lips. “It’s not right, I tell you! Who makes such a big deal over some flour, sugar, and eggs? The way that letter was written, you’d think they were accusing us of stealing the Mirror de Gaulle!”

“I’m sorry I got you in trouble,” Maria replies, not looking up. “You’ve all been so kind.”

The light mage looks up in shock as the chef wraps a stocky arm around her shoulder. The older woman looks down at her with a gentle expression. “Think nothing of it, Maria. If anything, we should be thanking you!” She sighs, and her expression falls. “Just hang in there, alright? I'm sure we can get this straightened out eventually. Not like we can just march up to the head office, though…”

Maria fights back tears at her kind words.

“Hey, wait a second!” she interrupts, her eyes lighting up. “You’re part of the Student Council, right? Why don’t you just get them to make a new rule that says council members are allowed to use the kitchen?”

Maria shakes her head and steps out of her grip. “No, it’s okay. I wouldn’t want to be a burden.”

The head chef's features wrinkle with confusion. “Burden?”

Despite herself, Maria puts on a smile. “It’s really fine. It’s not like anyone else eats my sweets anyway. I’m just being selfish, taking time out of your day like that.”

“Now listen, Maria—”

“A-Anyway, I need to go,” the light mage sputters. “I just realized I’ve got an assignment due tomorrow.” She tries to smile, but her glistening eyes betray her real feelings.

Before the chef even has a chance to say anything else, the light mage takes off down the hall, rounds the corner, and disappears from her sight. The head chef frowns, shakes her head, and slips back through the kitchen doors. “Hey, Jeff?” she calls.

“Yeah, Boss?” replies a thin man, leaning up from beneath a stove.

“Do you still have that letter from this morning?”

“I threw it in the trash,” Jeff replies. “Why?”

“Dig it out, will you? And put it somewhere we can find it later.”

“Boss?”

“Just a feeling,” the head chef states. “Something strange is going on here…”

Chapter Text

“I now call to order this meeting of the Katarina Claes Death Avoidance Committee!” exclaims the mustached Katarina.

The studious Katarina Claes pushes up her glasses as she leans forwards on the table. “Our plan to become part of the student council has proven to be a rousing suc—”

“Plan! What plan?” interrupts the stressed and tired Katarina. “You’ve been running us ragged for the past two weeks and we have nothing to show for it!”

The haughty and arrogant Katarina raises her fan. “That’s not true. Our new position gives us much more power than we had in our last life. It should be easy for us to counter any moves that black-hearted prince makes.”

“I-If we can stay on the student council at all,” stutters the timid Katarina, clasping her gloved hands together.

“True,” nods the glasses-wearing Katarina. “Keith will almost certainly be attempting to depose us.”

The angry Katarina slams her fist against the table. “We need a backup plan! Our position means nothing to a prince that will gut us like a fish!”

“S-She’s right. It’s too r-risky to bet everything on the council.”

“Well, what would you have us do?” retorts the studious Katarina. “Our councilwork and studies have left us very little free-time.”

“Screw the council!” the angry Katarina replies.

“I concur!” shouts the stressed Katarina. “Do you not all remember we spent four hours going over the material every day last week?”

“That’s an entirely reasonable amount of time to study…” mutters the studious Katarina, but the others ignore it.

The haughty Katarina raises her fan to her face. “I object. Do you have any idea how embarrassing it would be to lose our council position now?”

“Keith would never let us hear the end of it,” groans the depressed Katarina as she lies on the table.

“If we didn’t want it, we shouldn’t have accepted it,” the haughty Katarina continues. “I’m afraid to say it, but at this point, we’re committed.”

Every Katarina at the table, barring the studious Katarina, groans at this.

“I hate studying…” replies the depressed Katarina.

“It is true that we cannot lose our council position now,” says Chairman Katarina, “That being said, I must concur: We need some sort of back-up plan.”

The chambers of Katarina’s mind instantly erupt into furor.

“Where will we find the time?” shouts the glasses-wearing Katarina.

“We’ll make time!” the angry Katarina fires back.

“M-Maybe we could try and p-patch things up with G-Gerald?” offers the timid Katarina.

“That black-hearted prince and that blonde harlot are the whole reason we’re in this mess!”

“We already tried to get him to break off the engagement, and he refused,” interjects the studious Katarina.

“He must want to kill us!”

“Well, what else can we do?”

“M-Maybe we could be n-nicer to Campbell this time?”

Everyone stops what they’re doing and turns towards timid Katarina, who wilts under their stare. “N-not me,” she clarifies, turning to point to a corner of the room. “H-her.”

Half-covered in shadow is another Katarina, holding herself tightly as she sits on the floor. She stares off into the distance, eyes full of uncertainty and doubt.

“What is she doing here!?” shrieks the haughty Katarina as she points to the interloper with a shaking finger.

Chairman Katarina rises to her feet and fixes the new figure with a dark glare. “You are not permitted to attend these meetings." She claps her hands, and a Katarina wearing a suit of plate and chainmail appears beside her.

“Guard Katarina, please escort Guilty Katarina off the premises.”

The armored Katarina moves towards the intruder, leans down and grabs her by the shoulders, and drags her out of sight.

Looking satisfied, Chairman Katarina sits back down. “I apologize for the interruption. Let us resume our discussion.”

“I’ve got it!” shouts the excitable Katarina. “Why don’t we learn how to use a sword?”

“A sword? How ghastly.”

“S-Swords are d-dangerous, you know…”

The studious Katarina rolls her eyes. “As much as I hate to admit it, I think her proposal has merit.” She sighs and adds under her breath, “Though it’s very likely our grades are going to suffer for this…”

“Grades, schmades!” shouts the stressed Katarina. “The real question is who can we get to teach us?”

“She raises a fair point,” says the studious Katarina. She pushes her glasses up on her face. “We do not have much time. It is likely that taking lessons only at the manor would be insufficient.”

Chairman Katarina furrows her brow. “We can discuss that matter at a later time. Are we all in agreement that we should learn how to use a sword?”

“No objections from me, chairman,” says the glasses-wearing Katarina.

“I s-suppose we’re less likely to d-die to a sword than we are to G-Gerald,” adds the timid Katarina.

“It doesn’t matter either way… We all die eventually…” moans the depressed Katarina.

“A lady should never handle a sword, but considering the circumstances…” murmurs the haughty Katarina.

“It might be fun!” exclaims the excitable Katarina.

“Oh, I cannot wait to see the look on that sadist the next time he tries anything!” yells the angry Katarina.

“As long as it’s not more schoolwork!” adds the stressed Katarina.

“Then, hearing no objections, the matter is settled. We will learn sword-fighting as a backup plan in case our council position does not protect us.” The chairman slams down the gavel. “Meeting adjourned.”

Prince Gerald scoffs, hardly believing what he’s hearing. “You want me to teach you how to use a sword?”

Katarina crosses her arms behind her back as she looks down at the ground and pouts. “The medicinal magic professor wouldn’t agree to it.”

He looks at her with a confused smile and gestures for his servants to leave the garden. There’s only one reason his fiancée would suddenly be interested in such an unladylike activity.

“You claim I run you through with a sword by the end of the year,” he says once they’re alone. “Does receiving lessons from your ‘killer’ not defeat the point?”

She frowns at him, and her hands move to her hips. “Well, I won’t win against you in a straight-up sword battle either way. At least this way I can maybe buy some time for help to arrive.”

He should say no. This is perhaps the most asinine request he’s ever heard. He has far more important things to do with his time than teach his spoiled brat of a fiancée how to handle a sword so she can ‘defend’ herself against an attack she saw in a nightmare.

Yet he cannot wipe the grin from his face. Katarina Claes, the woman who once harangued one of his servants for the crime of her tea being too cold, is now asking him to teach her how to handle a sword?

He makes a show of being conflicted about the decision, ‘hmming’ and ‘aahing’ as he cycles through various contemplative expressions. After some time enjoying watching her squirm, he finally answers.

“I’ll do it,” he says. “On one condition.”

Katarina crosses her arms and looks at him with disappointment in her eyes, but gestures for him to continue.

He puts on a winning smile as he takes a step closer to his fiancée. “Tell me how you beat me on those exams.”

She looks at him smugly. “Much as I did with each exam problem: you already know the answer.”

Not long after, as Katarina is walking through the field back to the main building, she comes across something curious: A discarded hoe, lying in the path before her. One of the groundskeepers must have left it here by mistake.

A strange feeling overtakes her, and she bends down to pick it up. She feels its weight in her hands. The tool is evidently of good quality. It feels quite sturdy.

After glancing around to make sure no-one is watching, she heaves it over her back. She nearly loses her balance, but steadies herself before bringing it forwards with as much force as she can muster. The tip digs into the earth with a satisfying ‘thud.’ 

Lifting it back over her shoulder, she places her free hand on her chin. Her brow furrows as she considers a possible course of action.

After a moment’s thought, she shakes her head and tosses the hoe over her shoulder.

The discarded gardening tool clatters to the ground as she walks away.

Chapter Text

“Ah! Councilwoman! You are late.”

Katarina pants lightly as she hitches up her skirt and moves to her seat. “I had some trouble getting ready.”

Keith glares at her and rolls his eyes. “Our third-most senior member, everyone.”

She turns up her nose at him as she lowers herself into the chair. “If you must know, I was spending time with my fiancé.”

The other council members glance at her, and then glance at Gerald. They then turn back towards her with confused expressions.

“Prince Gerald was punctual,” states Lord Ascart. The corners of his lips are ever-so-slightly turned-down.

“I had to get changed afterwards,” she offers. Their inquisitive expressions don’t abate. If anything, at her phrasing, they only intensify.

Gerald sighs and nods. “My fiancée, despite my warnings, made the mistake of training in her dress.”

“Training?” inquires Sirius, silver eyes alight with curiosity.

Katarina holds out a gloved hand to interject. “It is a private matt—”

“Sword fighting,” Prince Gerald interrupts. He turns to her with an all-too-innocent smile.

She feels her eye twitch as she lowers her hand. Touché, Gerald.

“Sword fighting!?” exclaims Keith, looking at her with concern. He then turns toward Gerald with an indignant expression. “You’re teaching her how to use a sword?”

“I don’t see why it concerns you what I do,” she snipes.

He faces her, dark blue eyes wide. “Concerns me? Considering what you did with a wooden one, I—”

“Councilman, please!” interrupts Sirius. “We have gotten far enough off track.”

Keith glares at him, but Sirius’ grin doesn’t waver. Something about it sends a shiver down her spine.

Lord Ascart breaks the tension. “Where is Miss Campbell?”

Katarina turns towards the light mage’s seat. It is indeed empty.

“Oh, yeah. That’s a good point,” says Alan, “Shouldn’t she be here by now?”

“Perhaps she has finally realized that a commoner simply does not belong in such a prestigious position?” she offers, trying to not seem too happy at the thought. Judging by the frowns of the other council members (bar the President, who looks as chipper as ever), she doesn't do a good job.

Keith looks at her suspiciously. “Did you do something to her?”

“No.” Not directly, at least. “I have not seen her since my Theory of Magic lecture earlier today.”

Keith leans back in his chair, but his suspicious glare does not abate.

“I will go check on her,” says Gerald.

He pushes out his chair and moves to his feet, only to reel back in surprise as he finds his fiancée standing next to him.

“I will go as well, Prince Gerald,” she replies, smiling at him sweetly.

She isn’t about to let the two of them meet alone if she can help it. Especially considering what day it is.

Prince Gerald stares at her with a strange expression. After several moments appraising her, he opens his mouth to speak.

“Ah! That won’t be necessary!” interrupts the commoner as she rushes through the door.

The third prince is once again startled as he finds the space next to him empty. He furrows his brow in confusion as he turns and sees his fiancée now back at her seat. “How did—"

“Thank you, Prince Gerald. Thank you, Lady Claes,” says the commoner, nodding at each as she says their name.

Gerald’s glances between the light mage and his fiancée before frowning and lowering himself into his seat.

“What kept you, councilwoman?” offers Lord Ascart, his stoic face showing just a hint of concern. “It’s not like you to be late.”

Katarina grits her teeth. Look at them, fawning over her already! And the audacity of Lord Ascart’s remark! She will not overlook his barb.

It’s only when she sees what’s in the commoner’s hands – or rather, what isn’t – that her anger fades.

She fights back a grin as the light mage moves to her seat, nary a basket in sight. Her plan worked. Without her cooking, the others will not as easily fall to the peasant’s charms. Perhaps she will even be able to prevent Gerald from breaking off the engagement!

Her mind screeches to a halt. Wait. Doesn’t she want him to break off the engagement?

She shakes her head and pushes the thought aside. Whatever. It is irrelevant. The less that blonde harlot has to use against her, the better.

“Ah, sorry for being late,” says the light mage as she pulls out her chair. “I just had trouble remembering where the chambers were.”

It’s an obvious lie, and everyone knows it. The chambers are in the central building just off to the side of the main hallway, clearly marked by signs. Unless someone spontaneously lost all sense of direction, they’d be able to find them with ease.

Keith and Gerald both frown. No-one challenges her on it, however, as it’s clearly a matter she doesn’t want to discuss.

“President,” Katarina says, moving onto more pressing matters. “What is our first item of business?”

Sirius tilts his head to look at a slip of paper laid out in front of him. “Ah. That would be the division of students for the practical magic exams later this year.”

“I’m glad you brought that up, actually,” says Keith, leaning forwards in his chair. “Why are we grouping by grades? Does it really matter how well someone did on the placement exams?”

“Well, I think it’s an excellent idea,” she fires back, knowing that his objection must somehow relate to her unexpected performance.

Keith looks at her with an annoyed expression. “Would you actually listen to what I’m saying before you automatically oppose it?”

Her confidence wavers at his muted response. Is there something she’s missing?

“Perhaps it would be best to clarify,” offers Sirius. “In the past, students have been divided by year and sorted into groups of sixteen based on past exam performance. These groups of sixteen are then subdivided into groups of four, also based on exam scores.”

She blinks. “Is there something wrong with that?”

“Well, the faculty has asked us to review whether the group subdivision is actually necessary, seeing as there’s no way to enforce it once students have entered the testing grounds in the ruins.” He pauses and brings a finger to his chin as his smile actually drops for a moment. “They gave us a fair bit of latitude in this matter, actually. If we wanted, we could probably even add arbitrary students to each test group, regardless of their grades.”

“I still don’t see the issue,” she replies, a bit less forcefully this time. “Okay, the groupings can’t be enforced inside the ruins. Why does that matter?”

“I agree with Lady Claes,” says Gerald. “There’s no reason to abolish group subdivision. What should be changed is the number of members in each group.”

“And what would you suggest?” asks Alan, glaring at him for some reason.

Gerald smiles. “Three.”

Keith frowns at that. “Of course you would.”

Katarina finds it all very confusing. Why are they getting so worked up over a number?

“Sixteen is not evenly divisible by three,” says Lord Ascart. “We would have students left over.”

“We could simply have a single group of two or four in each test group,” Gerald offers.

Lord Ascart shakes his head. “Would that not complicate test scoring? A case could be made that the uneven group would be graded unfairly.”

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the Lady Ascart speaks up to affirm her brother’s decision. “I agree,” she states quietly. “Groups should be divided evenly.”

“Um, I don’t really mind either way,” chimes the light mage, clearly uncomfortable with the conflict. “I’ll vote for whatever everyone else decides.”

Gerald’s smile sags ever-so-slightly. The discussion is clearly not heading in the direction he’d hoped. “Very well. I withdraw my suggestion.”

“Perhaps we could shrink the group size to two?” Keith offers. “I think that would be a compromise all parties could agree with.” He then turns toward her, as if expecting her to concur.

Why is everyone treating this like a big issue? For that matter, what gives Keith the audacity to expect her support? She doesn’t really understand the conflict, but that alone is enough for her to come to a decision.

“No,” she replies, practically hissing at him. “Four is fine.”

Keith looks as though he wants to strangle her. “Are you even listening to me?”

“You heard my fiancée,” Gerald interrupts, looking extremely amused for some reason. He then turns toward Sirius. “Mister President, it appears there is a consensus for maintaining the subdivision of groups by four.”

Sirius looks around the table and grins. His eyes linger on Katarina for an uncomfortable moment. Then the moment passes, and he raises his gavel. “All in favor?”

Everyone except Keith raises their hands. “Aye!”

“All opposed?”

Keith crosses his arms. “I abstain,” he hisses, sending a glare her way.

Why is he so upset with her? Katarina does not understand it at all. It’s just a number.

“The ayes have it.” Sirius slams the gavel down. “Now, onto our next item of business...”

At the conclusion of the council meeting, as Katarina is walking out the door, someone shoves her. Hard.

She stumbles forwards and drops the papers she’s holding, but quickly regains her footing and spins around to give the assailant a piece of her mind.

The words die on her lips when she sees who it is.

Keith stares at his hands, looking shocked. He recovers quickly, however, and shoots her a hateful glare before turning down the hall and continuing after the others.

Katarina’s blood runs cold. Never in her life, neither in this one or the last, has her so-called ‘brother’ dared raise a hand against her before. She has grown accustomed to thinking of him as the sniveling boy crying in the rain as she brought her toy sword down on him again and again. That Keith had never retaliated against her. She never even considered that he could retaliate against her.

However, she is not dealing with that Keith. The boy who cried and begged for forgiveness is a distant memory. No, she is dealing with the Keith of the present, heir-apparent to the Claes family, whom her father (in his foolishness) hand-picked for his prodigious command of Earth magic. That Keith very clearly hates her as much as she hates him.

An inky feeling of dread crawls up her chest as she watches him disappear around the corner. It appears Prince Gerald is not the only threat she has to watch out for.

Chapter Text

Katarina sits down at her desk and picks up a quill with shaking hand. How has she been so blind? Even if she’s able to defuse the Gerald situation, Keith is a clear and evident threat. Her mind flashes back to images of her step-brother’s growing hostility throughout the last semester of her life. She had paid little mind to it at the time, but now it’s quite clear what happened.

She almost crushes the quill beneath her grip. It all comes back to her. She is why her betrothed gave up any pretense of interest. She is why her ‘brother’ turned against her. In every outcome, in every relationship, Maria Campbell is the architect of her misery.

Perhaps she’s misjudged the commoner. She had thought the insipid crybaby’s behavior was genuine, but all the evidence points to a far darker truth: Katarina’s suffering is not an incidental result of the peasant’s actions, but a direct and intended outcome of it.

Yet as much as she wants to throw herself into this narrative, a single image gives her pause: Katarina, dying on the ground, as Campbell attempts to stitch her broken body back together. Were the tears that rolled down her face false? For whose benefit? It’s not like Campbell needed to convince her. She was a dead woman.

She shakes her head violently, as if trying to throw off the traitorous thoughts. No. That had to be false. Katarina had given her no reason to cry. With her gone, that blonde homewrecker could have her way with whatever man she wants. There was no reason she should’ve felt sad. Katarina certainly would not have, if their roles had been reversed.

That last thought is meant to be comforting, but it makes her chest hurt even more.

In a fit of rage, she sweeps an arm across her desk, sending paper, ink, quills, and textbooks all crashing to the ground. She stands over the wooden surface, breathing heavily. No. No! She will not fall for her act! She will not let herself be manipulated!

“My lady?”

Katarina feels herself deflate.

“Anne,” she replies, not turning around.

There’s a long silence.

“Would you like me to clean that up?” Anne eventually offers.

She nods, still not turning to her maid.

There’s another long pause.

“Earlier, I told you that it did not matter whether or not I believed you, as I would support you either way.”

Katarina nods. She remembers.

“That was not a lie. But I never did answer your question.”

Katarina sighs as she finally turns to face her loyal servant. She places a hand on her hip and says, “I’m not dim, Anne. No-one would believe a story like that.”

“Indeed, I did not. At the time, I thought you were suffering from the stress of being away from your mother.”

Katarina raises an eyebrow. “You’re using past tense.”

Anne bows her head. “Lady Claes, I have lived with you since you barely reached my knee.” She raises her head, and her brown eyes are filled with determination. “You would not go through all this if it were just a nightmare.”

Katarina feels any trace of anger leave her body as she looks at her maid’s resolute expression. A warm feeling spreads from her chest. It’s the same as when Sienna stood up against the third prince for her.

“Truly?” she almost whispers. “You really believe me?”

“Yes.”

Anne’s determination falters for only a moment as her charge leaps towards her and envelops her in a crushing hug.

Katarina blubbers apologies as she sobs into the woman’s pristine uniform. The maid, for her part, does not resist her embrace.

Anne smells of clean linens and upholstery. It’s a nostalgic smell for Katarina. For a moment, she’s eight again, running to the comfort of the woman she considers a big sister. The moment soon passes, however, and Katarina (somewhat reluctantly) pulls away.

Katarina sniffles a bit as she wipes away the tears, but very quickly feels herself break out into a grin.

Her faithful maid looks at her at her in surprise, and she feels her expression fall. “Anne? Are you alright?”

“I’ve never seen you smile like that before…” she mutters. Then her eyes widen, and she clasps her hands together and falls into a bow. “Apologies, Lady Claes. I was out of line.”

“Nonsense,” she says, waving her hand. Then, a strange thought occurs to her. “Actually, would you please call me Katarina from now on?”

Anne looks up with a start, shock etched on her normally-stoic features. “Lady Claes?”

She once again waves her hand dismissively. “I’m serious. You said it yourself: You’ve known me since I barely reached your knee. I think you’ve earned the right to use my first name.”

Anne shakes her head as she returns to her feet. “I cannot do that, Lady Claes. It would be improper of me to address you an equal.”

Katarina rolls her eyes. “Fine. How about ‘Lady Katarina’ then?”

Anne opens her mouth as if to object, but her eyes flit to the side as she seems to ponder the suggestion for a moment. After a while she simply closes her eyes and nods her head. “If you insist, Lady Katarina.”

She feels herself grin as the words leave Anne’s mouth. Something just feels right about hearing Anne call her that.

Anne opens her eyes, and she’s once the ever-composed and poised maid. “Now then, Lady Katarina. Please allow me to clean up the mess on the floor.”

Katarina nods sheepishly as she steps out of the maid’s way. “Right. Sorry about that, Anne.”

The maid hesitates for a moment, and looks at her strangely. Eventually she replies, “There is no need to apologize, Lady Katarina. I am simply doing my duty.”

Anne moves past her and begins to pick up her discarded desk toppings off the carpet.

Katarina frowns as she watches Anne work. Anne is right, of course, but she still feels guilty knowing that the maid has to clean up after her mess. Part of her wonders if there’s anything she can do to make up for it.

Her eyes widen. Is this how that harpy ensnares her victims? By putting herself in situations where they can swoop in like gallant knights and ‘save’ her, and then ensnaring them using the sense of obligation that follows? How diabolical! No wonder she’d made no progress against her in the last life, she had been unwittingly playing into her trap!

It makes far too much sense to be a coincidence, either. Every aspect of her is tailored to play into the prince charming fantasy. Her pretty blue eyes, the pink flowers she weaves into her short blonde hair, the modest yet fetching dress she wears, and her oh-so-innocent aura of martyr-like purity: All of it is an act! A play! One where Katarina had unwittingly cast herself as the villainess!

She wants to kick herself for not seeing it before. She was ready to sic Sienna and the others on her tomorrow, throwing her position to the wayside for a cheap shot at revenge! Not only would she have lost the power she’d been trying so desperately to keep, but she would’ve done nothing but crawl into the light mage’s snare!

She quickly asks Anne to tell her the date, and the maid rattles it off as she lifts her assorted textbooks and papers off the floor.

Katarina breathes a sigh of relief as she realizes how narrowly she’s avoided disaster. Tomorrow is a day she remembers quite well. She can just avoid the incident entirely, and perhaps Keith won’t—

She freezes. The others have been given explicit orders to keep her out of the loop. She has emphasized how important it is that she has no (traceable) knowledge of whatever actions they plan to take against Maria Campbell. If it’s anything like last time, it’s very likely Sienna and the others have already made plans. Only this time, she would not be a participant.

Her heart sinks. She can’t just send a letter to Sienna. Any appearance of foreknowledge will implicate her, and the last thing she needs is to leave a paper trail for that peasant’s hounds to sniff out.

Instead, Katarina moves to the door. “I’m going out, Anne. I’ll be back soon.”

The maid looks at her with a resigned expression. “As you wish, Lady Claes.”

She pauses as her hand brushes against the worn metal of the handle.

Anne realizes her mistake and bows. “Apologies, Lady Katarina. Force of habit.”

She nods, pushes the door open, and then hitches up her skirt as she rushes out into the hallway.

Sienna opens her eyes as the sound of knocking echoes through the room. She leans up from the textbook her face is buried in and rubs her eyes. Evidently, she’d fallen asleep while reviewing cruciform rune theory. She looks up at the window. It’s still night, so at least she knows she hasn’t slept in.

She groggily makes her way to the door as the incessant knocking continues. At this rate, it’s going to wake up everyone on her hall. She supposes that it’s not very surprising, then, when she pulls open the door and finds a somewhat disheveled-looking Katarina Claes standing in front of her.

She jerks back as Lady Katarina’s fist goes flying towards her face. It appears she opened the door too abruptly. Thankfully, the lady manages to reel it back before impact, saving Sienna from the difficulty of explaining a new black eye. However, her relief is short-lived, as the firstborn daughter of House Claes immediately accosts her.

“You have to call off whatever you’re planning to do that peasant tomorrow!”

Sienna feels her jaw drop as she hears those words. “Pardon?”

“Look, tomorrow you’ll all go after Maria Campbell and get back at her for lording her position on the student council over everyone even though she’s a commoner, right? But then Mirabelle will assault her with fire magic which will cause Keith to fall for that harlot’s trap and ‘save’ her which she’ll use to turn him against me!”

Sienna blinks as the lady rattles off word after word like a town crier relaying an excessively gauche pronouncement. When Lady Katarina finally pauses to take a breath, she interjects.

“What do you mean?” she exclaims, not understanding her friend’s babble.

Lady Katarina looks exasperated. “You can’t attack Maria Campbell! You shouldn’t at all, but especially not tomorrow! You’ll be giving her what she wants!”

“I thought you said we just couldn’t include you?”

She nods rapidly. “That’s what I thought, but her plan’s way more devious than that. If you keep going after her directly, she’ll use that to get everyone to fight against me!”

She’s quiet for some time. Lady Katarina is telling her to not go after Maria Campbell?

“Lady Katarina,” she eventually says. “Are you afraid of her?”

The brunette shrinks back at that. She doesn’t meet her eyes as she mumbles, “N-No, it’s just that—"

Her eyes widen. “You are.”

It makes Sienna hate that disgusting wretch even more. Yet at that moment, her anger is not directed at the light mage, but the woman in front of her.

“Were you not the one who told me to always hold my head high with pride, Katarina Claes?” she shouts. “Is this some kind of joke?”

A bead of sweat forms on the lady’s head as she holds up her hands in a placating gesture. “We can still go after her, we just need to be cleverer. It’s proven way more effective anyway! I was able to stop her from—”

“I’ve heard enough of this,” Sienna growls, and turns to head back into her room.

She feels an arm fall on her back. She turns towards its owner. “What?”

“Sienna, please! I’m trying to help you!”

She grits her teeth at the insincere remark. With a swift motion of her hand, she slaps the lady’s hand away.

“I don’t need help from a coward.”

She feels a tinge of regret as the lady’s features twist up in hurt. It’s very quickly replaced by something much more familiar, however.

Rage.

Only, Sienna has never seen it directed at her before.

“Fine then,” Lady Claes hisses, expression dark and hateful. “I should not have expected anything different from a worthless person like you.”

She takes off down the hallway, and Sienna shouts off curses as she slams the door shut after her.

She angrily strides over to her desk and falls into the seat, staring intently at the textbook as if it holds the answers to her predicament.

It’s only when wet spots start appearing on the pages below that she realizes she’s crying.

Chapter Text

When Maria Campbell was younger, she thought that if she did the right thing and tried to be a good person, good things would come to her. After all, isn’t that how things are supposed to work? People who work hard and are good to other people are rewarded, eventually.

Even as her faith began to waver after her powers manifested, she clung to that mantra. It didn’t matter that the townspeople looked at her with a mixture of awe and fear, that her once-loving father left the house and never returned, or that her mother could no longer look her in the eyes. As long as she worked hard and never complained, the world would one day reward her diligence.

And even as that belief began to crumble, she held onto her final hope: Once she was enrolled at the magic academy, she wouldn’t stand out. She’d be like everyone else.

It hurts to realize how naïve she’s been.

In many ways, she stands out even more than she did back in her old town. As a light mage and a commoner, she is separated by the invisible walls of status and ability. Girls descend upon her like moths drawn to a flame, decrying her as a peasant or implying her abilities give her an unfair edge. Even those who try to be kind or sympathetic to her see her as something different, like a rare flower that needs to be protected.

The student council isn’t any different. She was excited when she realized she had won a seat upon it, and hoped she could become friends with the other council members. Those hopes were quickly dashed. The council chambers always exude a dreadful atmosphere, and no-one but Sirius stays after meetings. There’s so much bad blood between the different members of the council, and Maria doesn’t understand any of it. Why can’t they just get along?

That’s why she had the idea to go bake some treats for them all. It’s so foolish in retrospect, of course. Her cooking wouldn’t stand up to the professional chefs and artisans the nobles are accustomed to. Honestly, she’s grateful that she hadn’t been able to go through with it: It saved her the embarrassment of bringing back yet another batch of untouched sweets.

It’s a painful realization, but she’s not going to be making any friends here. Perhaps this is just her fate; the burden of one born with the power of light. It’s not at all a comforting thought, but she knows that’s just the selfish part of her talking.

One of the kitchen staff gives her a sympathetic look as he places some extra food on her plate. She tries to object, but the man refuses to hear it, so she somewhat sheepishly takes the extra food. She misses cooking her own lunches, but it would be selfish of her to impose on the staff when she has already caused them so much trouble.

She looks around the dining hall and frowns. She knows she doesn’t belong at any of these tables. They’re nobility, and she’s a commoner.

“Ah, Miss Campbell!” calls out Lord Keith, clearly trying to wave her over to his table.

She nods in his direction, but continues walking toward the hallway.

She enjoys Lord Keith’s company (when he’s not accosting her), but it’s blatantly obvious his motives are impure. The school’s resident Casanova simply sees her as his latest plaything. Despite his ill-fated attempts at seduction, his interest continues to rise. Although she occasionally catches glimpses of another side of him: One that’s far softer and sympathetic than the playboy image he tries so hard to project. In those fleeting moments, she wonders if he truly understands. The moments never last long, though. A few seconds later he’ll be leaning far too close to her face and setting her heart aflame with that charming playboy smile. Inevitably, she’ll break away and run, face red with embarrassment.

She glances around the hallway, hoping that nobody sees the pink spreading across her cheeks. She really doesn’t understand nobles at all!

Prince Gerald also seems to have taken an interest in her, and it’s hard to deny the way her heart flutters at his charming smile. As she recalls the scene that preceded her first meeting with him, she ducks her head in embarrassment. It was beyond humiliating to look over her shoulder and see the prince standing behind her just as she'd begun to straddle the base of that oak tree. Even before he introduced himself as a royal, her heart had sunk at his ornate appearance. Yet after she explained herself, he'd simply smiled and offered to direct her to the dorms. In the days since, the third prince has been a helpful and friendly presence to her, always willing to answer her questions and explain whatever she doesn't understand.

She shakes her head as she steps into the sunlight of the gardens. Honestly, this school is going to give her a heart attack.

As she sits down at a bench and begins to pick at her food, her thoughts turn to the other half of the Claes siblings: Katarina Claes. She is truly a woman from an entirely different world. Her sharp features and blue eyes hold a cold beauty, like a flower covered in icy rime. She is elegant, cutting, and composed; the ultimate example of a noblewoman. Though, if you believe the rumors, she’s also a touch mad.

Maria isn’t quite sure what to make of her. She acts civil enough during council proceedings, but Maria sees the way the noblewoman glares and frowns at her when she thinks she isn’t looking. It makes her feel awful, though she’s not quite certain why the lady seems so upset with her. Is it because Gerald has been spending so much time around her? Yet he's already agreed to marry Lady Claes, hasn’t he? In that case, she can’t see why the noble lady has anything to worry about. No matter how she feels about the third prince, it’s clear his heart is already taken. Still, she wonders if there’s something she can do to assuage the lady’s fears.

It’s for that reason that she doesn’t see the group of noblewomen approach her until it’s far too late.

She squeaks as her lunch goes flying out of her hands. The porcelain plate smashes against the ground, smearing the contents of her meal across the grass. She looks up and sees several women surrounding her, all clothed in elegant garb. She recognizes most of them, although she’s never seen them all in one place before.

“Oh no! How clumsy of me!” mocks a blonde woman wearing her hair in loops that part to the side. She gestures at what’s left of the commoner’s lunch, resting among the dirt, and her posse snickers behind her. All aim glares at the light mage that leave no doubt of the intention behind the ‘accident.’

“Come now, I’ve made it much easier for a lowly commoner like you!” the woman continues. “Eat up!” Her words are stilted, as though she’s attempting to imitate someone she’s heard before.

Maria looks down at the ruined meal with dull eyes, her expression blank. When she first arrived at the academy, she’d be shocked by these ‘accidents.’ She’d cry out and make pained pleas for her tormentors to stop. But quickly – far too quickly – she has adjusted to them. It’s almost routine at this point. She knows she should feel upset or outraged, but all she feels is a sinking emptiness.

“What, do you think you’re too good to grace us with a response?” another replies. This one is wearing a simple blue dress. “Just because you’re on the student council, you think you’re better than us?”

“N-No!” Maria exclaims, looking up at her. “That’s not it at all!”

From the twisted grin that spreads across her accuser’s face, she realizes she should’ve stayed quiet.

Another woman speaks, one with short black hair and a matching dress. “Don’t get full of yourself just because you have light magic!”

“You’re still just a commoner urchin!” adds one in a red dress.

“I truly pity the members of the student council that have to look after you,” says the blonde one.

“I bet your score on the test was biased because your light magic is so special,” says the one in a cyan dress.

She tries to ignore their baseless insults, but can barely hold back tears.

The one in the black dress steps toward her. “I can’t stand to look at you.” She raises her hand above her head and the air above her palm erupts into flame.

The blonde noblewoman turns towards the fire mage in surprise, eyes flitting to the flame dancing above her palm, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Since you’re so ugly already,” the fire mage taunts, a dangerous glint in her eyes as she extends her hand towards the commoner’s head, “consider this a favor.”

Maria can only gasp in shock and stare at the flames in shock as the heat brushes against her face. Her instincts are screaming at her to run, to scream; to do anything but sit there uselessly. Yet she finds herself stunned by the fire mage’s hatred. Has she been too selfish, wanting to come to this place where she very clearly doesn’t belong? Is this punishment for her greed?

Slap!

Maria feels the fire go out.

Lady Claes cradles her stinging hand as she glares daggers at fire mage. Then, as realization hits her, she looks at her own arm in astonishment. Maria locks tearful eyes with her rescuer for a moment, but Lady Claes immediately turns away.

The fire mage looks at the brunette noblewoman in utter confusion as she nurses the palm-shaped mark on her cheek. The rest of her posse seem similarly befuddled.

Lady Claes recomposes herself quickly and grabs the fire mage by the ear, dragging her away like a misbehaving school girl. She then turns to face the rest of the posse, and judging by the way their faces blanch, puts on a truly bone-chilling glare.

“We are leaving,” she commands. The tone of her voice makes it clear the matter is not up for debate.

The other members of the group shrink back from her glare and nod enthusiastically, evidently too confused to argue.

Yet as they all turn away, and even as she holds back tears, Maria feels the urge to thank the lady for her kindness.

“L-Lady Claes,” she calls out.

The noblewoman turns her head, and for a moment, Maria wonders if she’s misread the situation. The brunette looks quite irritated with her, after all. Still, she works up the courage to say her feelings.

“Thank y—”

She shouts as the ground beneath her suddenly shifts and rumbles, sending pillars of earth out to surround her. She feels herself being lifted into the air as the ground rises, the mass of soil below twisting and warping into a recognizable form. The shifting mound of dirt – now recognizable as a gigantic earth golem - raises its foot and stomps it on the ground in a threatening display.

Every one of the girls below her looks terrified. Everyone but Lady Claes.

“You can cut the act, Keith!” she shouts, turning towards a seemingly random pillar on a nearby balcony. “I know it’s you!”

The earth golem once again stomps threateningly, this time bringing its foot down closer to her rescuer. It’s only due to the steadfast resolution of Lady Claes that the whole group doesn’t scurry away.

Is this truly the work of Lord Keith? Maria knows he’s a prodigy, but she’s never seen earth magic at this scale before. Still, it would explain a lot. The two Claes siblings are clearly estranged. Lady Claes has also been rude to her in the past, so it’s possible he misread the situation.

Maria swallows her fear. “Thank you, Lord Keith,” she shouts, trusting Lady Claes’ hunch, “but I’m okay now!”

The golem freezes in place.

Lady Claes seems surprised at her response, but quickly recovers. “That’s right,” she shouts at the pillar. “No need to play hero!”

The Claes heir finally steps out from his hiding spot, his outstretched hand shimmering with magic. He glances at Maria and glares at Lady Claes before making a downward motion with it.

Maria feels herself being lowered as the earth golem flows back into the soil below, until she eventually comes to rest on the ground. Lord Keith looks at her one last time before withdrawing his hand and dispelling the remnants of his magic.

Maria turns towards the brunette noblewoman, whose normally sharp features are dulled by confusion. She wipes her sleeve against her face to rid her tears, and then smiles, feeling oddly light despite the harrowing ordeal she just went through.

“Thank you, Lady Claes.”

Her heart sinks when the lady’s eyes narrow in response.

“Oh, the pleasure’s all mine,” she spits.

Confused, Maria can only watch as the lady drags the fire mage away, the rest of the posse following closely behind. She barely registers Lord Keith as he mumbles beside her.

“What is she scheming?”

As Katarina finally drags Mirabelle out of earshot of Maria and Keith, she practically throws the idiotic girl into an empty classroom.

“Lady Claes,” begins Lady Nelson, looking at her with a strange expression. “How did you know that Mira—”

“Leave.”

Lady Nelson blinks. “I’m sorry?”

Katarina nods. “You should be.” She points down the hall. “Leave.”

Lady Nelson looks at her with a hurt expression, but it quickly twists into anger. She balls her hands into fists and throws her arms to her sides.

“Fine!”

The blonde noblewoman stomps down the hallway as the remaining members of her posse watch in bewilderment.

“You three,” Katarina commands. “Here.” She points to the outside of the door.

The lackeys nod quickly and comply without hesitation. Good. They aren’t completely stupid.

Katarina steps through the door and closes it behind her. She sighs as she latches it shut. 

“What. Was. That.”

Mirabelle clasps her hands together as she withers under her gaze. “I thought you would be pleased, Lady Claes! Do you not hate her as much as I do?”

“Pleased!? Are you daft!?” She calls on the intimidating glare she’s honed through years of watching Mother scold Keith. “Did you put any thought into the consequences of your actions?”

Mirabelle’s sweating now. “I-”

“Do not bother. It is clear you did not.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You just committed aggravated assault!”

“W-What!?” Mirabelle whimpers. “But I didn’t actually burn her!”

“No, you did not, and thank the gods for that,” she says. “That would have been aggravated battery.”

The noble shrinks back from her, eyes wide as though it is surprising to learn that attacking a commoner is considered a crime.

Katarina sighs and pinches her forehead. “Imagine if you will, what would have happened if you had burnt her. You successfully disfigure her for life. What then?”

Mirabelle goes pale. “I’d—”

“Go to jail, yes. Your status would not protect you from such a serious crime.” Katarina paces around the terrified lackey like a viper as she continues. “And even if I cut you off and claimed no responsibility – and I would, by the way – none of us would escape association to your crime. Your actions would impact all our reputations.”

“Forgive me, Lady Claes!” Mirabelle cries, dropping to her knees. “I do not know what came over me!”

Katarina brings a finger to her chin as she considers the woman’s plea. On one hand, Mirabelle has clearly proven herself to be a liability. On the other hand, with things the way they are, can she really afford to cut Mirabelle off? If she punishes her too drastically, they may all think she’s lost her nerve, and react as Lady Nelson did.

Katarina’s grin widens as she realizes the perfect punishment for Mirabelle’s transgression and her best chance at preventing the noble’s idiocy from jeopardizing her plans. “It is not me you should be apologizing to,” she states, looking down at the terrified woman like a snake eyeing its next meal. “It is her.”

The terrified lackey looks up at her with pleading eyes. “L-Lady Claes, please—”

“In fact, why don’t I come with you? After all, it would be awful if you got lost along the way.”

Mirabelle goes pale as she realizes the gravity of her error.

Chapter Text

Maria hears a knock on her door just as she finishes filling out a council form.

“Coming!” she calls.

As she pushes back from her desk and rises to her feet, she idly wonders who it can be. Has Prince Gerald come to invite her for an evening stroll? Or perhaps Lord Keith has embarked on another ill-fated attempt at seduction? She fights back a blush at the thought. She hopes not. Her heart can’t take any more surprises today.

As if to taunt her arrogance, opening the door reveals none other than Lady Claes and the noblewoman that had attempted to disfigure her earlier.

Maria tries very hard to not faint on the spot.

“A-Ah. Lady Claes,” she stutters, trying desperately to keep her voice even. “What can I do for you?”

The lady glances towards the woman standing beside her and shoves her forwards. As the black-haired noble stumbles toward Maria, she looks at her in disgust. Maria has trouble meeting her eyes.

“Mirabelle!” growls Lady Claes

The aforementioned noble glances over, only to blanch at Lady Claes’ terrifying glare. In an instant, she’s on the ground with her hands clasped above her head.

“I’m sorry!” the noble cries, sounding terrified for her life. “Can you ever forgive me, Miss Campbell?”

Maria’s eyes widen. “Eh!?”

She turns towards Lady Claes, who’s looking at the groveling noble with satisfaction. The brunette’s smile quickly fades when she notices Maria’s gaze.

“Well?” she says, gesturing towards the penitent noble with a gloved hand.

Maria turns back towards the woman, utterly bewildered. “I uh…”

She takes a deep breath. Focus.

She leans towards the black-haired woman and reaches down towards her. “Mirabelle, right?”

The kowtowing woman lifts her head and stares at the extended hand as if it’s poisonous. It’s only when she once again glances in Lady Claes’ direction that she reaches out and grasps it. Maria then helps the woman to her feet. The noble seems astonished at what she’s doing, and in truth, so is she. Still, she allows herself a smile.

“I-I’m surprised you’re s-so strong,” Mirabelle stutters.

She giggles at that. “I’m really not. But thank you anyway.” She supposes it’s just another difference between commoners and nobles.

The black-haired woman just gapes at her for a moment. Then, she clasps her hands together again and bows her head. “A-Anyway, please forgive me, Miss Campbell! I don’t know what came over me! It will never happen again, I promise!”

It’s Maria’s turn to be astonished. This time, there’s actual warmth to the noble’s words. Not much, but it’s there.

“I forgive you,” she says, the words flowing out her mouth without prompt.

The woman – Mirabelle – raises her head, disbelief etched across her features. Her eyes widen when she sees Maria’s face.

“Y-You’re serious?”

Maria nods. The fear from earlier is still there, of course. She still remembers the heat rising against her face, the dark worries of whether or not her light magic would allow her to heal the damage as the flames danced in front of her eyes.

Yet the hate is gone from the woman’s eyes. She isn’t looking at her as someone to fear or despise. If forgiveness is all that’s needed to clear the air between them, then Maria gives it gladly.

Mirabelle brings a hand to her face. “I… can’t believe I… gods… what did I almost do?”

They’re both quiet for some time. Eventually, Mirabelle clasps her hands together and bows.

“I must take my leave, Miss Campbell,” she says, sniffing back tears. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

With elegant poise, Mirabelle curtsies for the commoner she would’ve spit at just a few minutes ago, and exits the room.

Despite herself, Maria smiles.

“Impressive.”

…And nearly jumps out of her skin at the sound of that voice. She’d almost forgotten about her other visitor.

The brunette in question is standing in the corner of her room with her hands on her hips. Her expression is unreadable. “I can see why everyone was pulled in by you. You’ve got this angelic, almost martyr-like charm.”

Maria’s face scrunches in confusion. “Thank you?”

The lady strides forwards and grabs her by the chin, careless of physical boundaries. Maria squeaks as she feels warmth rush to her cheeks. The lady is so close she can smell her perfume. As her heart threatens to leap out of her chest, she turns away from the lady’s icy blue eyes

“It’s not fair. Why couldn’t I have been born with such nice features?”

There’s a strange sensation in her chest at the sound of the lady's compliment, and Maria forces herself to pull away.

“T-Thank you,” she stutters, still unable to meet the lady’s eyes.

Maria can’t help but wonder if all the members of the Claes household are this… enthusiastic about physical contact.

After a moment of silence, she finally works up the courage to look the lady in the face. “Ah, b-but you’re not b-bad yourself.”

The words slip out without thinking, and Maria immediately breaks eye contact. She feels mortified as blood once again rushes to her cheeks. What on Earth has gotten into her!?

“No. They all fell in love with you,” replies Lady Claes. “Or is it ‘fall?’ These tenses are confusing.”

Maria blinks as she meets the lady’s gaze. “I don’t understand.”

Lady Claes shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter. I have decided I want to break things off with Gerald anyway.”

“Oh. I see.”

For some strange reason, the idea excites her. She quashes the thought upon seeing the lady’s scowl.

“I will not get in your way if you wish to pursue him. Or Keith for that matter. I still do not approve of him jeopardizing our family’s future by marrying across social lines, but it is clear I will not be able to stop him from courting you.”

Maria giggles nervously. “’Courting’ is a generous way to put it…” A thought then occurs to her. “Is that why the two of you are on bad terms?”

She realizes she’s made a mistake when Lady Claes gives her the most bone-chilling glare yet. “That is none of your concern,” she hisses.

Maria shrinks back, holding her hands in a placating gesture. “Sorry! Sorry! Forget I asked!”

There’s a long period of silence that follows as Lady Claes looks at her with derision. Maria struggles to choose her next words. The lady’s catty eyes are quite daunting, and it’s hard to keep from turning away.

“Lady Claes, if I may, why have you not broken the engagement with Prince Gerald yet?”

She realizes a little too late that it may not have been the wisest move to follow a personal question with another personal question, so she’s relieved to see Lady Claes’ features soften.

“I have tried. He refuses, claiming he wishes to use me as a shield to deflect potential suitors.”

Maria feels outrage pour from her chest. “That’s awful!”

Lady Claes tilts her head. “Hm?”

“It’s not right for him to hold you in a relationship you don’t want!” Maria exclaims. “He should respect your feelings and part amicably!”

Once again, though, Lady Claes’ reaction baffles her.

“There’s no need to rub it in!” she snaps.

Maria’s head spins. Why is she angry at her? If Prince Gerald can’t recognize what a lovely woman Lady Claes is, isn’t he the one at fault? She really doesn’t understand nobles at all!

“Lady Claes, I really don’t-”

“Do you think me an idiot? Do you think I don’t see what you’re doing here?” The lady’s eyes are full of contempt as she extends a shaking hand to point at her. “You’ve won! Just leave me out of your proxy war!”

She drops her arm and turns to leave the room. Maria nearly trips over her dress as she runs after her and places a hand on her shoulder.

Lady Claes turns to her with the same hateful expression as before. Swallowing her doubt, Maria begins to speak.

“Lady Claes, I truly apologize for coming between you and Prince Gerald.”

She bows deeply before rising to meet her gaze again and continuing. Despite the anxiety tearing away at her chest as Lady Claes bores into her with her icy gaze, she continues.

“I know how awful it feels to be abandoned by those you care about. I never intended to inflict the same kind of pain on you.”

The lady brushes away her hand, but her expression softens. She grasps her shoulders and bites her lip, head turning towards a corner of the room. After several moments, she turns to face Maria again and crosses her arms.

“Perhaps you could prove it, then?”

The words come out uncharacteristically soft. It’s a challenge, but it’s not a hostile one.

Maria nods in agreement. She does not wish this misunderstanding to go on any longer.

“I’m not sure how,” she admits, “but I can try.”

The lady still looks conflicted, so Maria continues.

“I really would like us to get along, Lady Claes. Especially after what you did for me today.”

It surprises her that Lady Claes would leap to her defense, even carrying so much resentment towards her. Maybe it’s selfish of her to think that they can become friends in spite of that, but she has to try and clear the air between them. She owes her that much.

Perhaps that’s why it hurts so badly when Lady Claes turns and leaves the room without another word.

Chapter Text

It happens again as Katarina is training with Gerald.

The sword goes flying out of her hand, leaving her face to face with the gleaming tip of Gerald’s blade. She screams and stumbles back as she covers her face, images of her death flashing through her mind. Her heart beating quickly, it takes her several long moments to remember that this is a friendly sparring match.

When she uncovers her face, Gerald is standing in front of her, hand outstretched. “Are you alright, Katarina?” he asks, blonde hair reflected in the sunlight.

She composes herself, despite the adrenaline running through her veins, and ignores his hand as she moves to her feet. She looks away and tries to keep her voice level as she brushes dirt off her loose-fitting training gear. “I-I’m fine.”

Her breath catches as she feels his hand brush against her chin. He gently turns her to face him, looking at her with concern.

“Perhaps we should go back to the wooden training swords.”

She pushes down the feelings that fill her chest at the sight of his blue eyes boring into her soul. Those feelings are false. He would kill her without a second thought. She can still feel the steel of his blade tear into her chest. The very same blade he is holding at this very moment.

Damn his handsome face! It's all a lie!

She shakes her head. “I will not be able to defend myself if I keep breaking down at the sight of a blade.”

He frowns, but before he’s able to say anything else, the voice of Lord Ascart rings across the garden.

“Gerald? May I have a moment?”

They both turn to face the black-haired nobleman, and Katarina knows the session is over.

“You’ll have to wait. I’m in the middle of something with my fiancée.”

She blinks.

The normally-unflappable Lord Ascart’s eyes widen in surprise, and it takes him several moments to formulate a reply.

“I see,” he eventually says.

And while a part of Katarina would like nothing more than to rub her newly-favored status into that third wheel’s face, she really has other matters to attend to.

“It is fine, Gerald. I need to catch up on my studies.”

He turns toward her and frowns. “I could assist you, if you’d like.”

She shakes her head. “I already have a study—”

She pauses. Oh, right.

“It really is fine. I need some time to recuperate.”

She works better alone, anyway.

“Ow! Anne! Stop it!”

“Your hair is tangled and covered in dirt, my lady. I am being as delicate as I can.”

Katarina wince as Anne runs a comb through her hair in the mirror. She grits her teeth and fidgets as it snags yet again, but doesn’t say anything.

Anne doesn’t look up from her work as she speaks. “I heard what happened between you and Lady Nelson.”

Katarina balls her hands into fists. “I don’t need her.”

Lady Nelson betrayed her. That level of disloyalty cannot be tolerated.

No matter how much it hurts.

“You were close, though. Were you not?”

Katarina sighs. “I thought so.”

“I see.”

Anne withdraws the comb from her hair, but looks at her through the mirror and holds up a finger.

“One moment, my lady. I am not finished just yet.”

She walks out of the mirror’s line of sight, leaving Katarina alone with her thoughts.

It really is annoying to have to take so much time out of her day to freshen up after sword practice. Anne has to bathe her, re-style her hair, and get her presentable all over again. The entire process takes equally as long as the practice itself. Yet, she doesn’t really have any other option. She can’t practice later: the sun will be down, and fencing in the dark is downright suicidal. Still, all this busywork is seriously eating into her study time, and with Sienna no longer there to assist her—

She shakes her head. No. She does not need her. She can do just as well without her. Lady Nelson betrayed her. She is Katarina Claes, firstborn of Duke Claes! She does not need someone else’s help. She does not need anyone’s help!

No matter how much it hurts to be without her.

She’s broken out of her thoughts by something brushing against the back of her head. She looks in the mirror to see Anne tying back her hair. After a moment, she steps back and allows Katarina a look.

“Do you like it, my lady?”

Where her blue bow would usually be, there’s an azure flower poking out from her hair. Anne is standing behind her, arms crossed and expression neutral.

“Anne, what is this?”

“It is an iris, my lady. I am told it symbolizes good news and hope.”

She brushes her hand against the flower’s azure petals, as if to check she’s not hallucinating. They feel soft and delicate. “You… gave this to me?”

Anne nods. “The groundskeeper helped me pick it out.”

Her vision blurs. She feels something pool in her eyes.

“Anne…”

There’s a moment of silence. Anne’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly.

“Do you not like it, my lady?”

Before she even has time to think, she’s once again enveloping her maid in a crushing hug. Anne gasps, but a moment later, Katarina feels Anne’s arms tighten around her as the maid returns the gesture.

“Thank you,” Katarina whispers.

Forget money. When Anne has to retire, Katarina will give her a whole damn title! She doesn’t care what strings she has to pull or who she has to threaten! Anne deserves the best, and she won’t let anyone tell her otherwise!

Katarina sighs as she flips through the textbook. She might have seen the material before, might’ve even worked it, but that doesn’t mean it’s not challenging. She has never devoted herself so intensely to trying to comprehend it before; there will be consequences for her council position if she fails to keep her grades up. Katarina has never had to develop a study ethic before, and it’s not easy to learn one.

She glances to her right. It doesn’t hurt as badly as it did before to see the seat beside her empty, but it still hurts.

She grits her teeth and returns to looking at the text and scribbling down notes. Whatever. She can do this alone. She doesn’t need help. She’s seen it all before anyway.

“Katarina Claes!” calls out an all-too-familiar voice.

She grinds her teeth as she hunches over the table. If she keeps her head down and pretends she doesn’t hear him, maybe he’ll go away.

Unfortunately, judging by the sounds of his approaching footsteps, she has no such luck.

There’s a thud as two hands grip the edge of the library table, and Katarina scowls as she raises her head to see the frazzled silver hair of Alan Stuart.

“Go. Away.”

Alan’s frown deepens, and he shakes his head. “How did you do so well in the charms exam?”

“Because I’m Katarina Claes,” she replies. She turns up her nose at him and makes a dismissive motion. “Now leave. As you can see, I am busy.”

He leans forward on the table, face twisting in anger. “No way! I’m not going to leave until I figure out—” He pauses, eyes darting to her hair. “Is that an iris?”

She rolls her eyes. “Professor Babcock was asking around for you earlier. You should go talk to her.”

He stands back up and crosses his arms. “Nice try, but I’m not going to fall for that twice.”

He then moves to the back of her head, and Katarina’s breath hitches as he feels his warm breath rush against her nape.

“I’m fairly certain this is an iris…” he mumbles.

She scoots the chair away from him, cheeks burning with embarrassment. “W-What do you know about flowers!?” she shouts, earning her a few glares from the other library patrons.

He shrugs. “Mary grows a few in her garden.” Then he looks at her skeptically. “Did you get this from her?”

Katarina shakes her head. “I don’t even know who that is!”

Now it’s Alan’s turn to look confused. “Mary? Mary Hunt? My fiancée?”

“Oh. You mean Lady Hunt.” Katarina has seen her a few times in the halls and during classes, but the lady glares at her whenever she’s noticed. Katarina usually returns it in kind, even though she does not understand the marquis daughter's apparent dislike for her. “No, I did not get this from Lady Hunt… I think.”

“You think?”

She shakes her head. “My maid picked it out for me. I do not know where she got it from.”

The fourth prince brings a finger to his chin. “Hm. I’m not sure if anyone else on campus grows them.”

She glares at him. “Did you really interrupt my study session to talk about a flower?”

“I’m actually a little surprised.” He points to the empty chair next to her. “Isn’t there usually another person with you?”

She bites back a flurry of insults as she stares him down. The fourth prince shrinks back from her like a scared puppy.

“Whoa! Okay! Okay! Sorry! Must’ve hit a nerve there…”

She turns back to her work and hunches over her notes. Ignoring him hasn’t worked so far, but perhaps third time’s the charm…

She groans as he plops in the seat next to her. “What now?” she whines, turning to face him.

He looks away from her and rubs the back of his head as his cheeks flush pink. “I… uh, could help you study?”

She blinks. “Didn’t you claim I was your ‘rival?’”

“Well yeah, but there’s no point competing if my rival isn’t being the best they can be.”

She scoffs and returns to her notes. “That makes absolutely no sense.”

Then, she gasps as she once again feels his breath on her neck.

“Your notes are really messy.”

She doesn’t look at him. “I didn’t ask for your opinion!”

“I’ll go grab my books.”

In a flash, the fourth prince is gone. She really should just leave while she has the chance. As she draws up her materials, she once again sees the empty seat by her side.

She sighs and falls back into her chair. She really isn’t in a position to be picky about her study partners.

No matter how dense and irritating they might be.

Chapter Text

Katarina sits alone at her table. Her usual gaggle of nobles sits on the other side of the dining hall. She glares at the lot of them. Lady Nelson glares back.

“Traitors,” she mumbles.

She’s surprised when she hears another plate set down beside her. She turns to see a woman with short black hair in a black dress.

Katarina can’t keep the confusion off her face. “Mirabelle?”

The dark-haired noble nods as she pulls out a chair and sits next to her, the sole loyal remaining member of her group.

“Why are you not with the others?” Katarina asks, genuinely confused.

Mirabelle shakes her head. “I’m done harassing Miss Campbell.”

Oh. Of course. And here she is, thinking that perhaps one of her followers actually cares about her for once.

“I still do not like her,” she states, voice tinged with venom.

“True, but you don’t want to go after her anymore.”

“Only because I realize something those idiots do not: It will catch up to me.”

Mirabelle shrugs, and turns to her plate. “Good enough for me.”

Katarina nurses her forehead. When had things gotten so complicated? Why can’t Lady Nelson and the others see how futile their attempts are? Perhaps if she hadn’t lashed out at Lady Nelson the other day, maybe—

She shakes her head. No. She’s the one who’s been betrayed. She has every right to be angry. Lady Nelson is the one who needs to apologize.

She sighs before sitting up and using her spoon to take a sip of the soup in front of her. It’s strangely bitter.

“They’re planning something, aren’t they?”

She turns to Mirabelle, who’s looking at the table where the others are sitting. Her former lackeys are hunched over the tablecloth, muttering something in hushed tones.

Katarina places down her spoon and dabs a napkin around her mouth. “Undoubtedly.”

Mirabelle’s frown deepens. “Shouldn’t we do something about it?”

“Like what? They will not listen to me, so they certainly will not listen to you.”

The dark-haired noblewoman turns to Katarina and shakes her head. “No, not like that.”

“Do not tell me you wish for me to intercede on her behalf again.”

Despite herself, Mirabelle chuckles. “No, not that either. Besides, I’d prefer to not get slapped.”

Katarina is unamused. “Then spit it out.”

Mirabelle looks away from her, and Katarina can tell by the unsure expression on her face that she’s about to propose something she won’t like.

“What if we sit with her during lunch?”

Katarina’s eyes narrow. “You are more than welcome to.”

Mirabelle turns to her with a pleading expression. “Lady Claes!”

Katarina shakes her head. “No. I will not.”

“Please, just hear me out.”

“I will not be there to save you when you try and burn her again.”

Mirabelle’s eyes widen as she lurches back in equal parts surprise and offense. “T-That’s not what I meant!” she squeaks.

“I know. The answer is still no.”

Mirabelle looks distraught, and there’s a long period of silence between the two of them as they eat.

“It’s odd, though,” she eventually says.

“Hm?” Katarina replies, chewing on a bit of venison.

“I always disliked Miss Campbell, but for some reason that day, I wanted to make her suffer.”

Katarina swallows what she’s eating, and waves a hand dismissively as she speaks. “Is it really odd? Hatred tends to be like that.”

Mirabelle shakes her head as she picks at her food. “That’s the thing, though. I didn’t hate her. I was satisfied to just glare at her and spread mean rumors. Then, all of the sudden…”

Mirabelle frowns as she moves the palm of her hand towards the soup bowl and summons a small flame. Katarina feels the heat brush against her face as the soup begins to boil. After a few moments, the fire mage shakes her wrist and the flame goes out.

Katarina looks at her curiously, and Mirabelle’s expression softens as she meets her eyes.

“Sorry,” she says, looking embarrassed. “Soup was getting cold.”

Katarina arches a brow. She’d assumed Mirabelle was just an emotionally unstable idiot, but the noblewoman seems genuinely surprised and distressed by her own behavior.

“I just don’t understand why. Isn’t there supposed to be some kind of inciting event for that kind of anger? I can’t think of anything Miss Campbell did to set me off.”

“Emotions are a fickle thing, Mirabelle,” Katarina offers, not really believing her own words.

“I suppose so, Lady Claes.”

Katarina turns towards the other table and watches Lady Nelson and the others discuss another scheme to get at Campbell. There’s a sinking feeling in her chest as she does.

“Mirabelle?”

The dark-haired noblewoman looks at her confusedly. “Yes, Lady Claes?”

She sighs as she moves to her feet. “I believe we have somewhere to be.”

Maria quietly eats in the shade of the oak tree, feeling more melancholy than usual. While Lady Claes hasn’t accepted her proposal, she hasn't rejected it either. She supposes that’s a good sign. The lady may still dislike her, but she evidently isn’t willing to completely destroy any hope of reconciliation. Still, it hurts to have her offer spurned like that. Perhaps she’s just being selfish again.

This time, when she hears the crinkling of grass behind her, she immediately turns her head to see who it is. She relaxes when she sees Lady Claes, but tenses up when she sees her company. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. No… they're fine now. She isn’t coming over to hurt her. Lady Claes would never allow it.

Feeling a bit calmer, she opens her eyes, only for her breath to hitch in her throat.

Lady Claes is right in front of her, face inches from her own. If she was even an inch closer, their lips would be touching. Maria’s face burns. She tries to speak, but the noble’s icy blue eyes are too much for her quivering heart to handle.

“She’s awake,” the lady says, pulling away and turning to look at the woman beside her.

As Maria struggles to calm her heart, the other woman takes a few cautious steps toward her and curtsies.

“Miss Campbell,” she begins, the woman’s dark eyes locking with hers, “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. My name is Mirabelle Brandt. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“O-Oh,” Maria stutters, still trying to focus herself. “Thank you, Mira- I mean, Lady Brandt.”

The noblewoman frowns at that. “Please, call me Lady Mirabelle. It’s the least I can do.”

Maria nods, feeling the beginnings of a smile tug at the edges of her lips.

“Are you done yet, Mirabelle? I’m famished.”

Maria quickly glances over to Lady Claes, who’s rather impatiently tapping her foot. A frown adorns her face as she glares at the two of them.

“Ah, right. Miss Campbell, would you like to eat with us from now on?”

It takes her a moment to process the noblewoman’s offer. Lady Claes misinterprets her confusion as hesitation and takes a step forward.

“This is in your best interest. The other nobles will not bother you if I am by your side. You have no reason to decline, and doing so will only make you look suspicious.”

Maria’s smile falls. “Lady Claes, what do you mean by that?”

The lady looks her up and down, appraising her. After several moments she says, “It is of no concern… as long as you join us.”

Dazed, Maria steadies herself against the bench. Is the lady blackmailing her to eat with the two of them? Why? She’ll gladly accept their offer without coercion. It’s been so long since she’s eaten with anyone but her mother.

"Of course, Lady Claes!"

Once again, Lady Claes seems surprised by her acquiescence. However, she quickly recomposes herself.

“Very well. I will see you in the dining hall, then.”

Maria nods, and the two nobles walk away. She wipes a sleeve over her face, mopping up tears that threaten to spill over.

As the sun frames Lady Claes in an ethereal glow, Maria can’t help but admire her. Despite the lady’s apparent dislike, she keeps trying to protect her. Is there a hidden affection behind her actions? Or is she simply attempting to work past her resentment? Either way, Maria cannot help but feel grateful to the woman that’s helped her so much.

Perhaps she’d been hasty in her assessment the other day. It’s seeming more and more like she’ll make some friends here after all.

She picks up her plate with a smile. She has a table to get to.

Chapter Text

Unlike Campbell, Katarina is not content to sit back and stew in her own pity. Betrayal will be rewarded as betrayal deserves. Much of her power base may have turned against her, but Katarina is not one to admit defeat easily.

How careless of her to lose several council documents! Why, it’s just awful that Lady Talys’ application for exclusive use of the dining hall will no longer be considered before the council, or that Lady Serra’s request for a change to the menu has mysteriously gone up in smoke!

She hesitates upon seeing Lady Nelson’s request for use of the private studies. Hesitation quickly turns to anger, however, and her form quickly joins the rest of the ‘lost’ documents in the fireplace. The edges of the paper curl up and turn dark as the flames consume Lady Nelson’s elegantly written signature. There’s a sinking feeling in her heart as it disappears entirely.

She shakes her head and turns back to her desk, pushing down the queasy sensation in her stomach. It does not matter. If Lady Nelson had truly regretted what she’d done, she would’ve apologized by now. It wasn’t her fault. She has no reason to feel guilty.

She gathers up the rest of her papers and slides them into a leather pouch before moving her feet and heading to the door, calling for Anne to put out the fire as she leaves the dorm room. She disregards the maid’s confused expression at learning she’d lit one in the first place. There is, after all, no reason to implicate her trusted assistant in her quarrel.

As she’s walking on the stone paths between buildings, she hears the sound of footsteps behind her. Turning her head reveals Campbell following closely behind. Katarina barely suppresses a scowl, hoping against hope that it’s just a coincidence in timing. However, the more rational part of her reminds her of the words she shared with Campbell just a few hours earlier, and she begrudgingly admits that her own presence will likely dissuade any foolish actions from her so-called ‘allies.’

Evidently emboldened by her lack of any visible displeasure, Campbell moves to her side. The two exchange glances, but no words. They walk in complete silence as they enter the main building and move to the council chambers.

Sirius raises an eyebrow at the sight of the two of them entering together. Thankfully, only Nicol and Sophia precede them, and their disinterested gaze makes Katarina internally sigh in relief. This experience is already humiliating enough without the judging looks of Gerald or Keith.

She’s also relieved when Campbell takes her normal spot at the council table. Part of her is actually rather impressed at the commoner’s tact. Then again, Campbell is a master manipulator. It only makes sense that she recognizes Katarina’s discomfort and takes a light hand with her actions. Unfortunately for her, Katarina is already aware of her tricks.

Sirius keeps glancing between the two of them with a curious expression, a question clearly on the tip of his tongue. Katarina avoids his inquisitive silver eyes as the rest of the council members slowly file in.

As the clock in the corner of the room chimes the hour, Sirius calls the meeting to order. Oddly, there’s one missing figure.

“Where’s Lord Claes?” Sirius asks.

All eyes turn to the empty seat at the side of the table.

“It’s not like him to be late,” Alan adds, looking equally baffled.

Both of the Ascart siblings turn to look at her at the end of Alan’s statement. She narrows hers at them in return.

“Lady Claes.” Nicol’s expression is flat; his voice monotone. “Would you happen to know anything about this?”

She rolls her eyes. “You clearly do not understand our relationship if you even have to ask that question.”

Sirius stifles a laugh in the corner of her eye. She pretends not to notice it.

“The state of your relationship is the very reason I am asking you, Lady Claes.”

She bites back a curse as she glares at him. “What are you implying, Lord Ascart?”

The dark-haired nobleman wisely remains silent. No words are exchanged, but an accusation is nonetheless made.

Her attention shifts to Campbell as she notices her fidgeting. As they lock eyes, the light mage looks away, ashamed. Clearly, a more direct approach is needed.

“Miss Campbell,” Katarina says, venom dripping from her every word. “You would not happen to be keeping something from the rest of us, would you?”

She bows her head with a sigh. “A-Ah, Lady Claes,” begins Campbell. “I’m not sure I should say.”

Gerald stands up. “Then allow me to say it for you, Maria.”

Her eye twitches at Gerald addressing her so informally. Katarina was under no illusions she could ever hope to wrench the third prince from the commoner’s grip (or even that she wanted to wrench him from her), but it still hurts to be reminded of her failure.

Ignorant of her concerns, Gerald continues. “Lord Claes informed me he had some urgent business to attend to at Claes Manor over the weekend.” He gestures to each of the council members as he speaks. “I was told he wished to leave early as to avoid…” the third prince hesitates, glancing briefly at her “…complications.”

Disregarding tact, Katarina leans back in her chair and rolls her eyes. “No need to dance around the subject,” she sighs. “Everyone here knows the nature of our relationship.”

Gerald actually looks a bit sympathetic as he turns to face her. “Perhaps, but there’s no need to be rude, Katarina.” He lowers himself back into his chair before turning to Campbell and adding, “Besides, as the lovely Maria implied—”

Campbell flushes red at his compliment.

“—he did not wish you to be informed at all,” Gerald concludes, turning back towards Katarina. “I did you a favor.”

For a brief moment, Katarina imagines how that pretty perfect face of his would look with a black eye. Yet before she’s able to tell the third prince exactly where he can put his ‘favor,’ her thoughts are interrupted.

“Should you really be saying that kind of thing, Prince Gerald?”

Both prince and lady turn towards Campbell at the sound of that statement.

“Whatever do you mean, Maria?” says Gerald, smile straining.

Even as the pink is yet to fade from her cheeks, Campbell frowns. “I don’t mean the stuff about Lord Keith – although I don’t think it was very kind of you to go against his wishes like that – I mean the way you’re talking to me.”

His brow furrows, but he keeps up the smile. “I don’t quite understand, Maria.”

She gestures at him, an odd determination in her eyes. “That’s exactly what I mean. You’re betrothed to Lady Claes, right?” She turns toward Katarina with a sympathetic expression. “Don’t you think it’s improper to address another lady so casually in front of her?”

Katarina can only hope she’s hiding her own surprise half as well as the third prince is. Is this not the same woman that had pleaded with her in her past life, voice quivering, to stop ‘trapping’ Prince Gerald?

Gerald recovers quickly, and a perfect smile once again adorns his perfect face. “Ah. Apologies, Miss Campbell.”

Miss Campbell shakes her head and turns to him. “I’m not the one owed an apology.”

The third prince tugs at his collar as he faces Katarina, and for a moment, he’s not an imposing genius royal, but a schoolkid nervously fidgeting as his teacher scolds him.

“Apologies, Katarina,” he says, a bead of sweat visible on his forehead. ”I do not know what came over me.”

Katarina is too stunned to object, and nods with mouth agape.

As they’re walking back from the end of the council meeting, the words tumble out of Katarina’s mouth without prompt. “Thank you.”

Miss Campbell’s voice has an inquisitive pitch. “Hm?”

Katarina stops walking and sighs as she pinches her nose. She doesn’t look at Miss Campbell’s face. No doubt the light mage is wearing a smug grin at her capitulation.

“I said thank you,” she mutters.

There’s a long period of silence.

“It’s really no trouble at all, Lady Claes,” Miss Campbell eventually replies. “It’s not right of him to treat you like that.”

“I meant what I said earlier, though,” Katarina says, still not looking at her. “I won’t stand in your way if you want to go after him.” She knows far too well he is already lost. “So you don’t need to pretend in front of me.”

She jumps as she feels a soft hand on her shoulder. Miss Campbell’s looking at her, a pained expression on her insufferably-perfect features.

“Is that what you think I’m doing?” she asks, her voice full of hurt. She then withdraws her hand and shakes her head. When she locks eyes with her again, they’re filled with determination. “Lady Claes. Regardless of my feelings for Prince Gerald, I will not betray you like that.”

Katarina wants to laugh and call her a liar – she’s seen how this all ends up and knows it’s an empty promise – but there’s something genuine about the way Miss Campbell looks at her with those soft blue eyes. So instead, she just shakes her head. “Really, Miss Campbell, there is no love lost between us. Indeed, if you wish to court him, it would likely push him to break the engagement as I wish.”

Yet Miss Campbell’s expression doesn’t change. “If he’s really keeping you in a relationship you don’t want, then I guess I’ve misjudged him. Either way, as long as you’re betrothed, I’m not going to let him go behind your back like that.”

Miss Campbell flushes red as Katarina suddenly wraps an arm around her back and pulls her close. Katarina leans forward, scrutinizing the commoner’s features for signs of deceit. She pauses momentarily at the band of pink flowers dotting her short blonde hair.

“Where do you even get those?” she mutters.

Miss Campbell’s eyes flit up to her in confusion, but realization quickly spreads across her face. “A-Ah,” she sputters. “T-There’s a patch of them outside my d-dorm. They r-remind me of the ones we have b-back home.”

She moves a little closer, staring intently into the light mage’s azure eyes. Even if she isn’t lying, surely she has some sort of dirty secret or error, even if it is something as inconsequential as a flaw in her appearance. Yet Katarina can find nothing. It’s as if Miss Campbell was designed to be as perfect and attractive as possible.

She wants to slap herself. How has she been as idiotic to think she ever had a chance against that? It’s no wonder she’d been able to wrap Gerald and the others around her finger so easily. What man wouldn’t be seduced by such a charming girl? The trap she’d set was perfect. It was pointless to rage against it.

She eventually lets Miss Campbell go after she starts shivering in her arms. The light mage is clearly terrified, and Katarina doesn’t wish to jeopardize the détente she's offering.

“Apologies, Miss Campbell” she says, masking her bitterness as tiredness. “I did not mean to frighten you.”

The light mage clutches a hand to her face, dazedly swinging around as she attempts to regain her balance. “N-No, I-It’s fine, really,” she mutters, looking quite distracted. “I-I was just… surprised.”

Katarina dips her head, swallowing her anger and envy. “At any rate, please do not let my rash actions affect your decision. I very much appreciate what you said today.”

Miss Campbell nods, still looking out of sorts as she holds her papers against her chest. “I… I am glad to hear that, Lady Claes.”

Katarina nods in return. Good. The deal is still on, then. “In any case, have a good evening, Miss Campbell.”

She turns and walks away, leaving the dazed light mage behind.

Chapter Text

Katarina comes at him, metal clanging against metal as their swords collide. Gerald parries each of her blows.

Her black training outfit flutters in the breeze as she pulls back. Gerald can’t help but notice the way it emphasizes her form. Her hair, too, tied in a ponytail and frazzled from exertion, has a sort of unkempt charm to it. He never thought he’d see the day his fiancée would be willing to wear such an outfit.

He’s impressed by her drive, too. He’d initially thought that this would be a phase of hers – a way of getting back at him for some perceived injustice – yet she shows no signs of quitting, despite getting consistently trounced. To his silent amazement, she’s actually showing some subtle signs of improvement.

Still…

“I counted five mistakes in your form,” he says, grinning at her. “Which would you like to hear first?”

She runs towards him and face red with anger, swinging her sword as if it were an axe. All traces of the half-decent form she had moments before are gone.

With a few flicks of his wrist, he drives her back and forces her to yield.

She pouts. “You provoked me!” The expression looks adorably out of place on her sharp features.

He shakes his head. “Katarina, your opponent is not going to play fair. Especially if said opponent is me, and it’s a battle of life and death.”

She seems to contemplate what he’s saying. “I think I understand what you’re getting at.” She shakes her head and shifts into a battle stance. “Let’s have another go at it!” she shouts, before charging.

Again, he lazily blocks her strikes as she swings her sword wildly at him, even making a yawning motion with his free hand to mock her attempts. He steps back as the lady continues to swing back with wild abandon.

“You’re going to have to do better than tha-ah!?”

He notices too late that her hand is glowing, and the world pitches backwards as he trips and loses his footing, leaving him face-to-face with the blue sky, and then, a moment later, his fiancée. Wearing a grin that could rival one of his own, she’s pointing her sword at his throat.

“I win,” she states, smiling down at him in triumph.

For a moment, he’s silent, staring into her confident blue eyes as his heart pounds in his chest. Then he laughs, clapping his hands as he lies on the ground. “Well done, Katarina!” He moves to his feet, still looking at her. “However, that’s the kind of trick that only works once. You should have saved that for when you really needed it.”

Her triumphant grin twists into an ugly scowl, and he barely restrains himself from laughing. She crosses her arms and glares at him. “You always have something smart to say, don’t you?”

“Indeed I do,” he replies, flashing her a princely grin.

She groans and rolls her eyes. “You are insufferable. I don’t know what I ever saw in you.”

A strange feeling overcomes him, and he steps forward and grabs her by the chin, looking her deeply in the eyes. From the way her cheeks immediately flush red, he knows she’s lying.

However, very quickly, she pushes him away. “Stop looking at me like that.”

Gerald frowns. “You wouldn’t have complained a few weeks ago.”

“I didn’t know you’d kill me a few weeks ago,” she retorts.

He sighs, sheathing his sword as he places his hand on his forehead. “Katarina: Why on Earth would I kill you?”

He is not pure, he admits that, but he had a different plan in mind if she became too burdensome and refused to break off the engagement. One that no longer appears to be necessary.

She shakes her head and looks him in the eyes with total conviction. “It doesn’t matter. You did.”

His frown deepens. The way she looks at him whenever he asks about the topic makes it clear she truly believes what she’s saying. Yet she refuses to divulge the sequence of events that lead to her supposed demise. It concerns him greatly. He and Katarina had not always gotten along, but to kill her? He is no paragon of justice, he knows that well, but if he were to start offing nobles for the crime of being annoying, Sorciér would fall into ruin in short order.

He turns to face her, letting his arm fall by his side. “Did you do something?”

“Pardon?” she replies, looking at him strangely.

He shakes his head, not believing he’s entertaining her delusions. “In this ‘future’ of yours. Did you do something?”

She stills for a moment, looking at him as a condemned man would to his executioner, and Gerald’s eyes widen. Just as quickly, however, she recomposes herself.

“Are you saying you finally believe me, Gerald?” She turns to the side, an arrogant grin spreading across her face. “How very romantic.”

There’s a moment of silence, and Katarina’s grin begins to falter. Strangely, something stirs within his chest at the sight.

“Katarina,” he begins, “I—"

“Pardon me,” she interrupts a little too quickly. “I just remembered I have a study session with Alan in a little while. We can continue this later.”

With that sentence, Gerald’s thoughts grind to a halt as his mind attempts to process this new piece of information.

“Alan!?” he exclaims. “You’re studying with Alan!?”

She glares at him. “Yes. What of it?”

“Katarina, I offered to help you with your studies during our last session.”                                   

“And I declined. Your point?”

A strange feeling creeps up his chest at the thought of his brother spending time alone with Katarina. It’s familiar, but he can’t quite place it.

He shakes his head. “You should study with me instead, Katarina. It would be more beneficial for you.”

“How much clearer do I have to be?” she hisses. “I do not want to study with you. I do not want to spend more time with you. If it were possible, I would not interact with you at all.”

The third prince tries to ignore the sinking feeling spreading across his body. “We are engaged, Katarina, and you need me to teach you how to use a sword,” is all he can think is to say.

“Yes,” she spits, turning to walk out of the courtyard. “Unfortunately.”

“I can’t believe you made me wait for her,” says Nicol as he moves his chess piece across the board.

Gerald contemplates his next move as he replies, “Yes, well, she is my fiancée.”

The dark-haired noble shakes his head. “You couldn’t stand her.”

“Is that an excuse to be rude?” Gerald replies, moving his own piece forward. “Besides, she’s changed quite a bit since then.”

Nicol looks up from the chessboard and stares at him. “She doesn’t seem different.”

Gerald stares back. “She is no longer so intolerably clingy.”

“Because she’s gone mad.”

He shrugs. “Perhaps.”

Nicol shakes his head. “Yet you attempt to spend time with her anyway.”

He looks down at the board as Nicol makes his next move. “She’s… interesting.”

“Really, Gerald?” replies Nicol, looking disgusted. “She’s like any other noblewoman. Perhaps worse.”

“Most noblewomen would love to have an engagement with me.”

“Most noblewomen aren’t crazy.”

“I’m surprised you would say that, Nicol.”

An ever-so-slight grimace crosses the Ascart’s lips. “Still. You understand my meaning.”

There’s a period of silence as the chess game continues.

“I have been wondering about that,” Gerald eventually says. “Her ‘vision,’ I mean.”

Nicol doesn’t look up from the chessboard. “Don’t tell me you believe her.”

“I don’t,” he replies, shaking his head, “yet this delusion must have some basis in reality to be affecting her so greatly.”

“If you ask me,” Nicol says, moving a piece forward, “your neglect has caught up to you.”

Gerald feels his smile strain. “Pardon?”

His friend’s dark eyes lock onto him. “This ‘vision’ provides her with a convenient excuse to leave you, does it not?”

“Katarina is a terrible liar. She would not be able to put on such a convincing performance.”

“She may not be lying. Her mind may have fulfilled a subconscious desire.”

“That would be problematic,” Gerald frowns, bringing his hand to his chin as he takes inventory of the pieces on the board. “I still have use of her.”

“Is that the only reason this distresses you?”

“I don’t love her,” Gerald replies, identifying and countering Nicol’s move.

“Perhaps not.” Nicol states. “Yet you enjoy her company.”

The mask slips, and Gerald frowns. “And now that I have so little of it, I am realizing it?”

Nicol nods confidently. “Precisely.”

He shakes his head. “No. That’s not it.”

Nicol tilts his head. “No?”

He narrows his eyes. “No. I would not have given a second thought to never seeing her again.” That was, after all, exactly what he planned if their arrangement became too burdensome.

Nicol arches an eyebrow. “You’re using past tense.”

Gerald’s frown deepens as he sighs and leans over the chess table, nursing his forehead with his palm. “Sometimes I feel as though you know me better than I know myself, Nicol.”

“You’re conflicted.”

He nods, not moving his palm from his face. “It appears so.”

“I don’t think your fiancée feels the same way, Gerald.”

There’s the clink of ceramic against wood, and Gerald tilts his head to look at the table. Nicol has boxed him in. There are no good moves.

He can maintain the engagement for now, overruling Katarina’s objections, but it will be costly. While breaking it no longer seems to be an obstacle, Katarina’s open resentment has already taken a toll on his reputation and, in turn, his future plans. It’s also hard to see the noblewoman spending any more time with him than absolutely necessary. While a few weeks ago he would not have minded such a possibility, it would be quite frustrating to lose access to her now.

Breaking the engagement prematurely would resolve the newly-created impasse with the lovely Miss Campbell, but would also come at the cost of losing Katarina. Perhaps he would be on better terms with her than in the first scenario, but knowing her personality, he doubts it would make much of a difference.

It startles him to realize how his feelings have shifted. Katarina was an utterly boring person, devoid of any interesting qualities whatsoever. He did not think a day would come where he’d actually want to pay attention to her. Now, what was once an easy choice now seems agonizingly unfair. True, if his hand is forced, there is little question he’ll pick Miss Campbell over Katarina, but why must he choose at all?

“I need a new paradigm,” he mutters.

Nicol looks at him curiously. “Pardon?”

Gerald ignores him as he drops his palm and looks at the board. Chess is a game of defined choices, of trees and decision hierarchies. There is no random factor, no unforeseen chance. Everything is rigidly set out – the possibilities are finite. In his current predicament, there are no good choices. It can be mathematically proven.

Is such an approach really applicable to life?

Life is not binary. There are endless possibilities weighted by various probabilities. There is so much variance that no outcome can ever be certain. To analyze it as a game with fixed rules and rigid outcomes is folly. Such a narrow worldview will blind one to the possibilities all around them.

Gerald’s eyes widen, and he feels a smile return to his face. Yes, of course! How had he not seen it before? He laughs as he moves a chess piece across the board, hopping over the obstacles in his way.

Nicol’s nose wrinkles in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“Winning,” he replies.

Nicol looks down at the board, then back up at Gerald. “That’s not a legal move.”

Gerald shakes his head. “No, it isn’t. Yet I still am able to do it. I just had to look at things from a different point of view.”

Chapter Text

As Katarina enters the library, she notes with a frown that her usual spot is taken. Perhaps in her past life she would have been willing to try her luck with a little intimidation, but without her allies to back her up…

She shakes her head. No. It’s not worth making a fuss over. Even if it has the best lighting and view.

Even if it’s where she used to sit with Sienna.

She shakes her head and heads to a random table, not bothering to look around her. The girl next to her mumbles something as Katarina pulls out a chair and sits beside her, but Katarina pays it no mind as she lays out her textbook and flips to her bookmark.

She groans internally when she sees the title of the section: ‘Mathematical Formulas for Rune Behavior.’ She paradoxically remembers both far too little and far too much of this particular segment of the curriculum. She glances to the entrance to the library and considers waiting for Alan to arrive, before shaking her head and pulling out her notebook. That’s just the part of her that wants to stall things. Best to get the pain with over quickly. Besides, rote memorization isn’t so bad. It’s the next section she’s truly afraid of.

She brings the book to bear on the table in front of her, and jots down the various formulas as her eyes slide down the page, along with a brief description and a list of variables. She’s learned that it’s almost impossible to keep track of what the various symbols and figures represent otherwise. That very mistake had nearly lead to an embarrassing incident during the practical quiz earlier that day, when she almost mixed up the term for generating thaumic fields with one that generated heat. Thankfully, a rather explosive mishap had been averted when Miss Campbell carelessly dropped her papers on the floor, briefly revealing the correct rune as her notes fluttered down to the floor. Katarina had no idea the light mage was so clumsy, but is grateful that it worked to her advantage!

Anyway, to avoid any potential reputation-destroying events (she loves the look on Gerald’s face whenever a student compliments him for choosing such an intelligent fiancée), she’ll be taking a bit more careful inventory of her notes from this point forwards.

As she flips to the next page of her textbook and moves to write down more information, she can’t help but appreciate the irony of her situation. She’d never really cared for her studies in her past life: No-one became Queen because they had good grades. Yet she’s discovered a newfound appreciation in her work, especially now that standing beside Gerald as Queen seems more like a nightmare to escape from than a dream to aspire for. If nothing else, it keeps her mind off the dangers that surround her daily.

She flips a page in her notebook and sighs, her wrist gliding across the page as she jots down words and numbers with her quill. Still, even if studying is not as bad as she remembered, it is dull. She has to work twice as hard as any of the other council members to maintain her performance, and the time she’s losing to Gerald and his sword training is already causing a noticeable drop in her academics. Even with the overwhelming advantage of having already lived through the semester’s material, staying on top isn’t easy. She hates to admit it, but without that advantage, it would’ve likely been impossible.

It’s frustrating to see her limitations so clearly. Her insufferable fiancé can succeed at anything he puts his mind to. His brother, though too wrapped up in his own inferiority to see it, is also of exceptional intelligence and talent. Even Miss Campbell, who should’ve been leagues behind any of the nobles in education, surpasses her handily in both beauty and brains. She does not have the magical power of her so-called brother, the charms of Lord Ascart, or the exotic looks of his sibling. All she has is her title and lineage, and as much as she wishes that was enough, it is not. It did not save her last time. It will not save her this time, either.

If the only person she can rely on is herself, why has fate seen fit to give her so little to work with?

She shakes her head. No. She can’t afford to think like that. It will be enough. She will make it enough. She’ll show everyone who’s ever underestimated her what she’s truly capable of. She will find a way to surpass her limitations, or at the very least, work around them. If that means she has to study twice as hard as everyone else, so be it. If that means she has to run herself ragged practicing the sword, so be it. If that means she has to swallow her pride and consort with her greatest enemies to find protection, so be it. She is Katarina Claes, cheater of death! She has already done something no-one thought possible!

She will not be wasting this second chance.

Feeling a fire burning in her chest, she stares at the textbook with renewed energy. Her hand scratches and scrawls on the notebook below.

Very quickly, however, the fire dies down, and she finds her attention beginning to waver. It frustrates her greatly. How pitiful is she, that she cannot maintain focus even in the face of death itself?

She sighs as she lays the quill down on her notebook and leans back in the chair, crossing her arms as she looks up at the ornate chandeliers hanging from the wood-paneled ceiling. Already, the fiery determination is being replaced by gnawing doubt.

What if her best is not good enough? She is not exceptional, not really. Her victories have come from random chance. Everyone around her is so talented and bright. Is she deluding herself in thinking she can ever hope to compete with them?

Perhaps this is how Alan feels, she realizes. Yet she frowns as she thinks of it further. At least he has actual talents, as much as he denies them. What she’d give to be in that same situation…

The gnawing feeling deepens as she continues to stare upwards. Her allies are gone. She honestly misses them. Like her, they are regular girls forced to compete with the exceptional. Also like her, said ‘competition’ is painfully one-sided. She understands their vendetta against Miss Campbell far too well, but is it really worth breaking their friendship over?

She shakes her head as she leans forward in her chair, feeling unusually heavy. No, no. They weren’t her friends. They were allies of convenience. She knew that. They knew that. It is foolish of her to think differently. When their goals no longer aligned, the alliance no longer made sense. It was a rational move, and one she would not have hesitated making if their situations were reversed.

So why does it hurt so much to think that Sienna will never sit by her side again?

She’s mortified when she feels the first tear run down her face. She’s even more humiliated when it’s joined by a second. Crying in public? She’s such a child. No wonder they all hate her. Still the tears keep coming, and she buries her face in her arms against the table as her cries escalate into ugly sobs.

The rumor mill will never let her live this down. Her image will be permanently compromised. No-one will be able to take her seriously once they hear the story of poor Lady Claes breaking down and crying in the library.

The tears only intensify.

She hears the girl next to her mumble again, but her words are drowned out by her own choked breaths. No doubt she thinks she’s pitiful, losing her composure over something so trivial.

There’s a delicate hand on her shoulder, but she ignores it as she continues to cry into her book. The equations she’d been copying down so enthusiastically not so long ago are now wet with her tears.

Eventually, as the fear and confusion and worry and pain subside, she finally leans up from the book, wiping her face on her sleeves. She pretends to not notice all the nobles turning their heads away from her as she does. She’s already consigned herself to the rumors that will soon be spreading.

“Are you alright?” the quiet voice mumbles again, only this time she can finally make out what it’s saying, and who it belongs to.

She lies and nods, not daring to face its owner. As if her humiliation was not complete enough already, fate has seen fit to place another member of the student council beside her.

“I can’t believe I did that in public,” Katarina mutters.

The soft hand on her back tightens. “I won’t judge you for it.”

Such banal words. She’d laugh, if it wasn’t so tragic.

She finally works up the courage to turn towards the girl, seeing the white-haired and red-eyed Lady Ascart. The girl looks toward her with pity.

Fitting. Even the cursed girl looks down at her.

“I was mad at you for taking my brother’s seat,” Lady Ascart says, pausing to glance away, “but I can see you’re having a hard time right now.”

“I wasn’t paying attention,” Katarina replies, shaking her head. “Pardon me for acting so rudely.”

The girl locks eyes with her and smiles. It looks unfamiliar. Has Katarina actually ever seen her smiling, before?

“No, it’s okay. Thank you for apologizing, though.”

She’d apologized? Huh. She hadn’t even realized it.

“Lady Claes, if I may ask, what’s bothering you?”

Katarina sighs. “I do not want to talk about it.”

Lady Ascart’s smile falls, but she nods. “I understand.”

There’s a long period of silence that follows as Lady Ascart returns to her reading.

“Where is Lord Ascart, anyway?” Katarina asks.

“He is still with your fiancé, I believe.”

Katarina snorts and crosses her arms. “If you can even call him that.”

Lady Ascart chuckles, and Katarina barely restrains herself from glaring at her. Yes, her misery is so funny. Ha. Ha.

She evidently does not do a good enough job, as Lady Ascart glances over to her and suddenly recoils with a guilty expression.

“I-I’m sorry,” the cursed girl mutters, once again not looking her in the eyes.

Her anger subsides. “You didn’t mean anything by it.”

There’s another long period of silence as Lady Ascart turns back to her book and quietly flicks a page. Katarina glances over, quickly realizing Lady Ascart is not studying as she presumed. The book is far too small, and far too dense with words. It’s a novel of some kind.

She cranes her head over to look, trying not to breath on the noblewoman’s nape. The princess is doing something to a commoner woman, it seems. She doesn’t quite understand what the ropes are for, though. Is the commoner a prisoner? If so, why is she agreeing to—

“Ah!” the white-haired girl yelps, glancing at her and slamming the book shut in surprise.

Katarina jerks back, confused at what she’d done to scare her.

“A-Ah, L-Lady C-Claes,” Lady Ascart stutters, her face red, “I-It’s n-not what you think!”

Her forehead crinkles in confusion. “It’s not?”

“I-It’s research!” Lady Ascart stutters, shaking her head as she waves her hands frantically. “I-I’m reading this for a project!”

“Oh,” she replies. Shame. Would’ve been nice to solve that mystery.

She turns to her own book, now soaked in tears and utterly unreadable. She frowns. Isn’t there something about this they’d learned in class earlier? Thankfully, her notebook is intact, so she quickly flips through the pages, finding it after a few moments of searching.

Katarina glances at the instructions before nodding and lifting her hands above the textbook. Closing her eyes, she focuses her energy on the page, and mutters the incantation she’d written down.

When she opens her eyes… nothing’s changed. She lets her arms drop to her sides and frowns, feeling the gnawing sensation return to her chest.

“Ah, a restoration charm?”

Katarina nods, not looking at her. “Professor Finnelan said it was easy.”

Or as she’d put it, “Even someone with as pitiful mana as you should be able to do this one!”

“I think you’re just saying it wrong,” Lady Ascart explains. “Try putting less emphasis on the ‘O’ in ‘Orfei.’”

She nods and lifts her hands above the page, muttering the incantation again. This time, she feels the power begin flowing through her palms the moment the last word leaves her mouth.

When she opens her eyes, the page is crisp and clean, as though the embarrassing incident had never happened.

Katarina looks over to Lady Ascart. “Thank you.” The words again tumble out of her mouth without prompt, but she doesn’t fight them.

The white-haired girl grins, and Katarina feels the weight in her chest subside.

Suddenly, Lady Ascart’s eyes widen. “Ah, b-but, did you really mean what you said earlier, Lady Claes?”

Katarina arches an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

“A-About the b-book I was reading, I m-mean.”

She shrugs. “I don’t see what’s wrong with it.”

The white-haired noblewomen almost pounces on her. Katarina swears she can see stars in her crimson eyes.

“Really!?” she exclaims, looking far more animated than Katarina thought either of the Ascarts was capable of being.

She nods hesitantly. “I was actually curious how it’d turn out.”

And then, the white-haired girl moves even closer to her to her face, to the point that Katarina can smell her expensive perfume. “Lady Claes! Can I please call you Lady Katarina?”

Katarina quickly pushes her away. “Let’s not be too hasty, Lady Ascart.”

Lady Ascart’s expression falls. “O-Oh.”

Something stirs in Katarina chest at the sight of the dejected noblewomen, and with a sigh she adds, “We should spend more time with each other first.”

“You mean that?”

Something warm fills her chest when see turns and sees the girl smiling again due to her words. Without thinking, she nods.

“Of course. Perhaps when I am not otherwise occupied over the weekend? I’m usually pretty busy though…”

“T-That’s fine!” Lady Ascart exclaims, pumping her fists in excitement. “I’ll make time!”

She suddenly frowns as she remembers Keith’s absence from the council meeting. “It can’t be this weekend though. I have something I need to take care of.”

The white-haired noblewoman frowns, but the spark doesn’t disappear from her eyes. “That’s fine! We’ll work something out later!” There’s a short pause as her expression turns contemplative. “Besides,” she mutters, “I’ll need time to find something a bit tamer…”

Katarina wrinkles her nose at the odd choice of words, but before she can ask, she feels a hand clasp against her shoulder.

“Lady Claes,” Lord Ascart states. “You are in my seat.”

“Nicol!” exclaims his sister, turning to him with a cross expression. “That’s no way to treat my friend!”

“Friend?” the both of them exclaim.

“O-Oh,” Lady Ascart mutters, once again retreating inwards. “Did I overstep my boundaries again, Lady Claes?

She thinks about it for a moment. Her reputation is in tatters either way. Her allies have deserted her. Does she really have anything to lose by agreeing to Lady Ascart’s proposal?

“I’m still not entirely comfortable with that, Lady Ascart,” she eventually replies. “I only just met you.” Before either of them can interrupt, however, she extends a finger. “But,” she adds, “I don’t see any harm in trying to become one.”

Lady Ascart beams. “That’s good enough for me, Lady Claes!”

Lord Ascart’s mouth tugs into a subtle frown.

And then, to add to the caravan of sudden arrivals, Katarina hears Alan’s voice ring out behind her. “Lady Claes? Is that you? What happened to your eyeliner?”

She quickly grabs her textbook and notebook from the table and slides them into her pouch, trying to ignore the burning in her cheeks.

“A-Ah, we’ll have to continue this conversation later, Lady Ascart!” she sputters as she struggles with the leather bag’s flap. “I need to get decent before I study with Prince Alan!”

The white-haired girl nods. “I understand, Lady Claes.”

Nicol just stares.

She quickly moves to her feet, and the black-haired nobleman lets go of her shoulder.

“Lady Claes?” Alan calls out.

She holds her pouch against her face to conceal it from his sight.

“I need to freshen up first, Alan!” she exclaims, making her way to the library doors. “I’ll be back soon!”

“Uh… okay then. I’ll wait for you here.”

She pushes through the entrance, hitching her skirt up with her free hand as she runs through the hallways beyond. She tries to ignore the stares of passing students. Whatever. They already think she is crazy.

May as well play to form.

Chapter Text

There’s a knock on the door as Anne finishes re-applying the last of her make-up.

“Anne, would you please get that?”

Her dutiful maid nods, placing the brush down on the vanity as she turns towards the door. Katarina dusts off her dress as she rises to her feet and follows her.

The moment Anne turns the doorknob, the door bursts open. Alan Stuart brushes past her as he comes stomping in, his dark coat trailing behind him.

“Katarina Claes,” he intones, eyes narrow and lips pursed in a frown. He pauses just a few feet away from her. “You said you would be back after you ‘freshened-up.’”

She blinks at him. “I just finished?”

He scoffs at her, flicking his unkempt hair as he rolls his eyes. “A likely story.”

Katarina balls her fists and tries very hard to suppress her rising urge to strangle him. Great. He’s in one of his ‘moods’ again.

“It is likely,” she hisses, smiling at him through clenched teeth, “because that is what happened.”

His blue eyes rise and fall as he looks her over. In response, Katarina shows off more teeth. His eyes narrow, but he steps back and crosses his arms, eyes turning to glare at a nearby wall.

“Whatever,” he mutters.

Katarina tilts her head back and groans as she nurses her forehead. Honestly, it’s as if she’s dealing with a child.

“P-Pardon me,” Anne says, deftly sliding past the fourth prince as she moves toward her charge. Katarina notices a glimmer of sweat on her forehead.

Alan’s eyes widen as the maid squeezes by. “Oh, sorry,” he mutters, letting his arms fall to his sides. Then, realizing what he just said, he once again turns his head to glare at Katarina.

Katarina lowers her hand and tilts her head forwards. “Are you finished complaining?”

The fourth prince does nothing but continue to bore into her with his gaze, so Katarina decides to interpret that as a ‘yes.’

“Anne?” she says, locking eyes with her ever-faithful servant.

“Yes, Lady Katarina?” Anne replies, brown eyes flitting nervously between her charge and the visiting royalty.

Katarina sighs as she grabs her pouch. She looks at Anne with a resigned expression. “Be a dear and clean up while I’m gone, will you?”

Anne closes her eyes and bows her head. “Of course, my lady. Have a good time.”

In other words, “Good luck.”

“This seems like a good place,” Katarina states, pointing to a wooden table outside.

“I thought we were going to the library?” Alan says from behind her.

She shakes her head as she pulls out a chair. “I don’t want to go back to the library right now.” She’d rather not be reminded of how everyone saw her bawl her eyes out in public.

He shakes his head. “Well, I left my things in the library. I’ll go get them.”

By the time she’s unfurled her papers and cracked open her books, he’s back. She quietly resumes copying down equations as the fourth prince lays his materials across from her on the wooden table.

She pauses as she’s about to turn the page. There really is no sign of the stains and blurred ink that defaced it not so long ago. She examines her palm. Huh. That little cantrip seems surprisingly useful. What else had she missed out on last time?

“What are you doing?”

She frowns as she glances up at him and places her hand down. “None of your concern.”

He snorts. “What? Did you break a nail?”

She groans and rolls her eyes. “Are you here to help me, or to make fun of me?”

“You are my rival.”

Now it’s her turn to snort. “You have an odd definition of ‘rival,’ Alan.”

“Hmph.”

She looks down to her text and continues to write notes as she flips the page to the next section.

“Your notes are still messy.”

She glances up from her notebook and points at his open notebook. Uneven lines of near-illegible cursive letterforms adorn the open page. She locks eyes with him and arches an eyebrow as she withdraws her hand.

Alan pouts and looks away.

Katarina returns to her studies.

Some time passes, and the sky begins to turn a shade of orange as the sun falls below the horizon. They’ll have to go inside soon, but she’ll probably call it quits when that happens. She’ll need the rest for tomorrow’s journey. Hopefully Keith hasn’t already taken a carriage back.

“You okay?” Alan asks.

She looks up from the table as she pauses writing. “I’m fine.”

“Sorry,” he says, looking at her curiously. “You just started making a face.”

She sighs, placing down her quill as she leans back and crosses her arms “How is your relationship with your siblings?”

He frowns, and turns back to his notes. “It’s fine,” he says, voice cold.

She waits for him to elaborate, but he says nothing. The only sound is of his pen scratching against paper. She’ll have to be a little more forceful, then.

“Right. So ‘fine’ that you declared me your rival because I beat him in something.”

He slams down the pen and looks up at her, face locked in a snarl. “Are you going to criticize me too?”

She shakes her head. “No. I was just wondering.”

His expression softens a bit, but he’s clearly still angry. “Yeah, well, you may as well not bother. It’s pretty clear how our relationship is.”

She nods. “Agreed. Just like it is clear that Keith and I do not get along.”

He seems to deflate at that. “Right,” he replies, nodding slowly. “It’s like that.”

She thinks about it for a bit, and eventually says, “Is it really, though?”

Alan furrows his brow.

“Keith is the heir to the Claes family, and I have no doubt he’ll try and cut me off once my father… retires.” She looks him in the eyes. “Do you think Gerald would do the same to you once he becomes king?”

“If he becomes king,” Alan growls.

She rolls her eyes. “Do not delude yourself, Alan. If Gerald wants to inherit the throne, he will inherit the throne.”

Alan grits his teeth. “That pompous jerk thinks he can do whatever he wants!”

“Unfortunately for both of us, it seems like he can.”

“Eh?” Alan replies, arching an eyebrow, “Aren’t you his fiancée? Wouldn’t you want him to succeed?”

The sword slashes through her chest. Blood sprays everywhere, staining Gerald’s white uniform. Her body screams in pain as she collapses to the ground, the hateful glare of the third prince burning into her soul.

She shakes her head violently. “No,” she hisses. “I do not.”

Alan brings a hand to his chin. “Is that why you beat him, then? To show him that he shouldn’t underestimate you?”

She smirks. “Perhaps.”

“How did you do it?” he asks, looking at her with pleading eyes as he leans over the table. “Please, Lady Claes. Tell me.”

“I told you already,” she sighs. “I already took the test in my past life.”

“I’m serious!”

“So am I!”

He scoffs at her. “Whatever. One day I’ll figure it out.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” she says, looking down at the table. “Now that he knows I’m a threat, there’s no way he’ll let me win again.”

“Let you!?” exclaims Alan, and she feels the table rock as he slams his hands down on it. “What, do you need permission from him to win!?”

She glares at him. “Of course not!”

“Then why are you just going to let him walk all over you like that!?” he says, leaning closer.

“Because he’s a genius, Alan!” she yells, jumping from her seat and leaning across the table towards him. “He’s a genius who cares about his reputation as one!”

“So!?” he says. His face is just inches away from yours.

“I’m not!” she shouts. Her voice echoes across the field, but she’s too angry to care about eavesdroppers.

Alan stands there for a few moments, sitting over the table, before he calmly sits down. He looks off into the distance as he speaks. “I think I see the problem.”

She snorts. “Sure.”

He holds up a hand as he continues to stare away from her. As the anger fades from her body, she quietly sits down as well.

Finally, he turns to her, looking serious. “You’re thinking about this individually,” he says. “That’s incorrect.”

“What?”

“When the First King stormed the walls of DeGaulle’s Keep, was it not his victory?”

She shakes her head. “I’m not following.” She doesn’t understand how the early history of Sorciér applies to beating Gerald.

He sighs. “The First King had soldiers and allies to help him in that battle, because he knew he wouldn’t win alone.”

She nods, still not understanding. “Okay?”

Alan brings a palm to his forehead. “What I’m saying is that you don’t need to beat him by yourself.”

She frowns. “It wouldn’t be my victory, if I relied on others for it.”

“Not relying on others,” he states, dropping his palm and looking her in the eyes, “but making their will your own.”

She blinks. “I don’t quite understand.”

“Okay,” he says, shaking his head. He points to himself. “You and I have a common goal, right? We both want to beat Gerald.”

She nods.

“So if we beat Gerald, is it my victory or yours?”

She scoffs, pointing to herself. “Mine, of course.”

“But I win as well, don’t I?”

She frowns, laying her hand back on the table. “I suppose.”

He smirks. “Now do you see what I mean?”

She pauses. Is this not exactly what she had done with the girls here? They’d all been fractured groups, going after Miss Campbell individually. She had come and brought them under her aegis; made their wills her own.

…Well, last time, at least. Things hadn’t gone quite as well this time.

“Perhaps,” she eventually answers. She smirks at him. “Actually, yes. I do think I understand your point.”

 “I think you were right earlier, Lady Claes,” Alan chuckles. He extends a hand towards her, and grins as she stares her in the eyes. “We aren’t rivals.”

She feels a rising sensation in her chest, grips the fourth prince’s hand, and flashes him a wicked grin in return.

He flushes red for some reason, but the emotion quickly passes, and it’s once again replaced by a confident smirk as the two of them shake hands.

“Good to have you, ally.”

Chapter Text

Katarina orders her carriage prepared the first thing next morning, and quickly packs a few things for her trip to Claes Manor. Anne, of course, travels with her.

Aside from the growing cloud-cover as the day goes on, the carriage ride is uneventful. The trip from the Magic Academy to her home is not a long one, though some of the roads could certainly stand to be improved.

The sun seems to be low in the sky as the carriage pulls past the gates of her family’s estate, though it’s hard to tell with all the clouds in the way.

She is barely out of the carriage when Keith notices her and scowls, quickening his pace as he tosses a large piece of luggage inside an identical carriage, presumably prepared for him.

“Keith!” she shouts, hitching her dress up as she strides over to him.

He rolls his eyes as he claps the dust off his hands. “What do you want?”

Katarina leans toward his face, not letting an ounce of unease show through. “What are you planning?” she hisses, staring into his dark blue eyes.

He furrows his brow, and pushes her away. Once again, she’s momentarily stunned by his audacity. She recovers quickly, but judging by the satisfied smirk on the contemptible bastard’s face, her surprise has not gone unnoticed.

Keith folds his arms and leans against the carriage wheel. “What’s wrong, sis? I’m just doing a little packing.”

She shakes with anger as she points at him. “You are not to address me that way!”

“Oh, give me a break,” he sighs, once again rolling his eyes. “Like I’d actually consider you my sister.”

This attitude of his is unacceptable! What on Earth has possessed him to act with such bravado?

“Then I’m certain you won’t mind when I do it as well, brother.”

Something dangerous appears in Keith’s eyes, and Katarina briefly worries that she’s finally pushed him too far as he lurches forward. That death glare is all-too-familiar, even when it’s not on Gerald’s face.

Keith closes his eyes and takes a sharp breath. When he opens them again, the look is gone. “Do not call me that ever again,” he hisses.

She takes a step back, but quickly folds it into her shift to a haughty pose. “Then I believe we have reached an understanding.”

He grunts and turns away from her, not saying a word as he returns to the items he’s loading.

She nods, feeling herself relax. Good. This is how it’s supposed to be. Not… whatever that was.

“I do not believe we were finished, Keith,” she says.

He tenses up, pausing as he holds the bag in hand.

“What are you planning, coming home so early?”

There’s a long pause as he stands there, facing away from her.

“Am I not allowed to go through a few of my items before summer break?”

She places a hand on her hip. “You expect me to believe you came all the way back here just to pack?”

“Believe what you want,” he sighs before moving to toss another bag into his carriage. He does not relax a bit. “You can check with the maids, Duke Luigi, and your precious mother. All of them can confirm what I said.”

She frowns. That remark in itself is suspicious.

As he hefts the last of his luggage inside the carriage, the Claes heir turns to face her and glares as he steps onto the carriage.

“By the way, Miss Councilwoman,” he states, cold eyes devouring the surprise that crosses her features. “Don’t throw stones if you live in a glass house.”

With a thump of its door, the carriage begins moving down the path towards the gate. She glares at it at as it disappears, not daring to appear weak or guilty in the face of his challenge.

The moment it rounds the corner and disappears behind the trees, she breaks into a cold sweat.

Distant thunder rings out as the first drops of rain begin to fall.

Katarina sits at the dining room table, fidgeting as she waits for the servants to arrive.

Her father, Duke Luigi Claes, sits at the head of the table, as customary for the head of the family. Her mother, Millidiana Claes, sits to his side. The two pointedly do not make eye contact, even as they exchange pleasantries.

Katarina frowns as she sees the wrinkles on their faces. They seem so much older now. Prematurely aged by the one that had torn her family apart.

She glares at the tablecloth, trying to hide her scowl. It doesn’t work.

“What’s wrong, Katarina?” her father asks.

She calms herself before turning to look at him. “It is nothing.”

That’s a lie, but there’s no point relitigating the dispute. It’s rare for him to come home these days, and while he shares much of the blame for their current situation, she does enjoy his company. It lets her think back to happier times.

“It’s interesting you chose to come home today,” Mother says. “The day after he unexpectedly returned.”

Her expression is flat, but her blue eyes are frigid.

Father just sighs, leaning over the table.

There’s a long period of quiet, punctuated only by the sounds of rain and thunder, intermingled with the distant clinking of glass and silverware.

“Perhaps we should be thinking of something to do over the break?” Katarina offers.

Father perks up a bit. “That does sound nice, Katarina.”

She flashes a smile at him, pushing down her own negative thoughts. “I was thinking we could visit the mountains. Perhaps have a picnic.”

Both Mother and Father seem to consider this.

“It has been a while,” Mother says, holding a finger to her chin. “I believe we could use a change of pace.”

Father nods, a small smile creeping across his face. “I have business with the Nelsons, so I believe that would work nicely.”

Katarina’s heart stops, and she briefly wonders if she should withdraw the proposal. Then she sees Mother and Father smiling, and she decides against it.

It may be a pale imitation of what they had before, but it’s something.

A moment later, the dinner bell rings, and the various chefs and servants enter the room, carrying platters of food. In swift, well-trained motions, they place the platters on the table in front of them.

“Dinner is served,” states a chef, and the staff file out.

Katarina grabs her silverware, and gently places a bit of steak on her plate. She cuts it with a knife before taking a bit.

“Oh, I almost forgot. I have heard some very interesting rumors about your activities at school, Katarina,” intones her mother with a sidelong glance. She dips a spoon into her soup and quietly sips it.

Katarina chews on the bit of steak longer than she needs to as she struggles to think up a response. Eventually, she swallows and replies, “Whatever do you mean, Mother?”

Her eyes narrow, and Katarina feels the temperature of the room drop.

“Why, I have heard the strangest rumor about you using a sword.”

Katarina quickly forks another bit of steak into her mouth as she stalls for time.

“And what’s more,” her mother continues, gaze intensifying, “several people say you’ve gone mad and claim to have seen your death in the future. At your fiancé’s hands, no less!”

The steak is little more than rubbery paste at this point, but she doesn’t dare stop chewing until she’s about to gag. She swallows it with a fitting gulp as she tries to concoct an explanation that will satisfy Mother.

It’s only after she opens her mouth that she realizes there isn’t one.

“Your Grace. May I speak up on Lady Claes’ behalf?”

Katarina turns to see Anne standing behind her chair, arms folded and expression neutral. She moves back to her mother to see her arching an eyebrow at her faithful servant.

“Katarina,” Mother eventually says, looking her in the eyes. “Will you permit Anne to speak on your behalf?”

She nods, despite the feeling of uncertainty gnawing at her chest. “I will, Mother.”

She turns her gaze to Anne.

Anne bows. “Thank you, my lady.” Returning to her full height and taking a few steps forward, she says, “Lady Claes has been under an incredible amount of stress since arriving at the academy. I have seen firsthand how hard she is working to uphold the family name.”

“Unlike some,” her mother mutters, causing her father to look away in shame.

Anne blinks before resuming her speech. “Regardless, if I may be so blunt, I believe Lady Claes faltered under the strain.”

Mother tilts her head. “I suppose such incidents are not unheard of.” She frowns. “I would, however, like to hear an explanation for why you didn’t intervene.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” replies Anne, unphased. “For the claims of foresight, I am afraid those were outside my power to affect. Even after my lady ceased such behavior, the rumors continued to spread.”

Mother nods, looking satisfied at the explanation. “And the sword fighting?”

“I must admit I supported the activity,” Anne sighs, bowing her head in penance. “I believed it would be therapeutic, and that the nature of my lady’s arrangement would prevent such rumors from forming.”

Mother looks significantly less pleased at that, judging by the way her brows furrow, but she does not speak up.

“Come to think of it,” Katarina says, internally sighing in relief as her parents’ eyes move from Anne to her, “who started that rumor anyway? There aren’t a whole lot of people who should’ve seen us in the courtyard.”

Mother looks thoughtful as she lifts a glass of wine to her lips, not turning away from her daughter as she sips it. “It appears I will need to find that out,” she replies, placing the glass down on the tablecloth and turning towards Katarina’s maid. “Anne?”

She lifts her head. “Yes, Your Grace?”

“Your answers so far have been acceptable, but I have one more question to ask of you.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

Her eyes narrow. “You would not have happened to… support my daughter in these delusions, would you?”

Anne blinks. “Aside from what she asked of me?”

She nods.

Anne’s answer is as quick as it is devastating. “No.”

“I figured as much.” Mother nods as her gaze returns to her plate. “Thank you, Anne. And please, go get something to eat.”

Anne bows again, and steps out of her sight.

Katarina picks at her food, trying to ignore the hurt in her chest.

As she finishes her dinner, she asks to be excused, and walks down the halls to her room. There is something she needs to check.

Surprisingly, her door is already unlocked when she reaches it. It gives her pause. Had Keith gone in while she was away?

She pushes down the dread in her stomach as she opens the door, and sighs in relief as the inside comes into view. Her room is in order. Nothing is out of place. Not that there is anything compromising here to begin with. What she couldn’t take with her, she’d hidden or destroyed. Still, it’s relieving to feel that perhaps her paranoia has simply gotten the better of her.

That is, of course, until something crunches underneath her foot.

She steps back, looking at the obstacle on the white carpet. There’s a half-cracked key underneath her boot. It looks like the one that fits the lock to her room.

The only difference is that this one’s made from dried mud.

The feeling of dread returns as she realizes there’s no-one at the school guarding her dorm room, and that Keith has a several hour head-start.

Chapter Text

Rain patters against the roof as the carriage slowly rocks back and forth. Katarina tries her best to ignore both the gnawing dread in her chest, and the maid sitting across from her.

Keith left that key behind as a taunt, didn’t he? He could’ve dissolved it into dirt or taken it with him, but he instead left it on the floor for her to find. She’s fallen for his trap, and he wants her to know. He’s probably rifling through her drawers as she sits here, looking for… something. She’s fairly certain she’s disposed of anything that could be compromising, but the idea still unnerves her. What if she’s overlooked something? What if she hasn’t been as thorough as she thinks? There’s probably nothing he can find that would cause her to lose her position, but there’s a chance he’ll find something that would reflect badly on her. Something he could hold over her head.

She flinches as booming thunder shakes the carriage. Even the weather has turned against her.

“My Lady?” says Anne, reaching out a hand to her as she looks on in concern.

Katarina shakes her head, crossing her arms as she turns away. No, no. False concern. Anne had made her real feelings quite clear.

There’s a quiet sigh, and the carriage continues to bounce and shake as the sound of rain intensifies.

“I’m not sure how far we’ll be able to get,” Anne says quietly. “If this storm keeps up…”

Katarina continues to ignore her. The horses whinny as lightning flashes through the windows, and another burst of thunder rolls through.

“My Lady?” Anne says, voice a little louder. “Is something bothering you?”

Katarina doesn’t respond to her faux sympathy. She doesn’t look her in the eyes either.

“Is this about earlier?”

Katarina finally faces her, glaring at the maid she had so foolishly trusted. “I do not want to hear it.”

Anne’s eyes widen in surprise, before narrowing as she looks away in shame.

Katarina refuses to back down, even upon seeing the despondent expression on Anne’s face. It’s false. Just like what she said earlier. All lies.

Anne sighs and removes her white headpiece, before turning to her, brown eyes filled with a strange determination. She places her hands on Katarina’s shoulders as she leans forwards and says, “Lady Katarina. What I say now, I say not as your personal maid.”

Katarina feels a flash of irritation as her maid so flagrantly breaches decorum, but hesitates.

“I really do believe you,” Anne intones. There’s not a hint of doubt in her eyes.

Katarina blinks. “But you said to Mother—”

“Yes, I know what I said to Duchess Claes.” Anne closes her eyes and nurses her forehead. “I lied.”

“What?”

Anne opens an eye, still rubbing her forehead. “Yes, it’s true. I lied to her.”

Katarina, still not understanding, shakes her head. “Why?”

Anne lowers her hand. “She would have fired me on the spot otherwise.”

“Because you believe me?”

“Lady Katarina. Your mother loves you very much, but think about what this looks like from her perspective. She has not seen what I have.”

Katarina tilts her head. “I know she thinks it’s crazy, but wouldn’t she believe you, Anne?”

Anne shakes her head. “Lady Katarina, I have served House Claes for many years, and I believe your parents have a lot of trust in my capabilities, but…” Anne takes a shaky breath. “If either of them thought I was hurting you in any way, they would not hesitate to terminate my employment.”

“I still don’t understand. How does believing me ‘hurt’ me?”

“They would believe I was ‘encouraging your delusions,’ Lady Katarina.” She leans closer to her charge, voice dropping to a whisper. “I still do not understand what has happened to you, Lady Katarina, but you have changed so drastically in such a short period of time, and you’ve told me knowledge you should not be capable of possessing. It is obvious to me there is an outside force at work, but it is not something others would accept easily.”

Katarina nods slowly. “I think I understand. It is still difficult for me, even. Sometimes I question whether or not what I remember is real.”

“It is improper for me to say this: but I am very worried for your safety, Lady Katarina.” Anne’s grip tightens as concern spreads across her face. “Are you certain it is wise to remain at the Magic Academy?”

“Attendance is mandatory, Anne,” Katarina sighs. “I could try and withdraw for a year – if my parents would even let me, and I doubt it – but at least this way I know what’s coming.”

Anne bites her lip. “Still, my lady. I do not wish to lose—” She stops, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Forgive me, Lady Katarina. I am already bending decorum, but that was—”

Anne gasps as Katarina leans into her.

“I don’t want to lose you either.”

This time, it’s Anne that wraps her arms around her and draws her into a hug.

“Lady Katarina. For a long time, I did not think you saw me as anything but your maid, and I told myself that was enough.” Her voice shakes as she continues. “To know that you’re in so much danger, and that you see me as f-family…”

“S-Silly,” Katarina sniffles, and it is. Anne is her personal maid, paid by her parents to take care of her and attend to her needs. This is a job for her, nothing more.

Yet when she feels the shuddering breaths and quiet sobs as her faithful servant – no, companion – draws her into an even tighter embrace and begins crying into her shoulder, she knows it’s more than that.

Anne isn’t family. She’s better.

Maria clutches her cloak tightly as another burst of cold wind threatens to tear it away from her. The gray sky spreads above her as her boots splash through the muddy road.

She’d returned one of the books she’d borrowed for her studies. The supplemental materials help, and the librarian isn’t very cold to her, so she stops by often.

Times like this, when there aren’t a whole lot of people out, are best. She legitimately needs a cloak for the rain, but she’s grateful it obscures her face. Even all these years later, the glances and glares she gets from some of the townsfolk make her skin crawl.

It’s probably not much better for Mom.

At least the rain has let up.

She passes a fancy carriage as she walks down the path to her house.

“Sorry, milady, but when the creek’s run over like that, ya dunnae have a chance of makin’ it past.”

A familiar voice rings out in response. “There has to be another way!”

The man shakes his head. “You’ll end up drowned if ya try and ford it. It’s how we almost lost Terrance last year, and that boy’s a strong swimmer! The waters would eat ya alive!” He takes off his hat and looks respectfully at the carriage’s occupant. “If I can offer some advice, milady, I’d suggest stayin’ the night in town and waitin’ for the waters to recede.”

As the familiar voice rings out again, Maria feels herself drawn to the side of the carriage.

“Is that inn really the only place to stay? It looks quite ghastly.”

The man suppresses a scowl. “It may not be the fine accommodations yer used to, but ya won’t find anywhere else in town nicer.”

She can almost see the figure inside the carriage, but there’s very little doubt in her mind that it’s who she suspects. Still, just to be on the safe side…

“Lady Claes, is that you?”

“Miss Campbell!?”

The carriage rocks as something hard thumps against its inside. Maria doesn’t have much time to ponder that, however, as the man next to the carriage turns and eyes her suspiciously.

“Ya two acquainted? Then I suppose I should leave the rest to you, ‘Miss Campbell.’”

She tries to ignore the look of derision he sends her as he walks away.

Lady Claes eventually pokes her head out the carriage window, and Maria notices her hair’s slightly ruffled.

There’s a scowl on her face as they lock eyes, but it’s very quickly replaced with a pleasant (and clearly false) smile.

“Ah, Miss Campbell,” she begins. “What brings you out here?”

Her mouth is smiling, but her eyes are ice-cold.

“This is my hometown, Lady Claes,” Maria explains. “I come here every weekend.”

Katarina looks at her skeptically, but her features soften. “I see.”

An idea suddenly occurs to Maria, unprompted, and she feels the blood rush to her cheeks. “A-Ah, Lady Claes? I heard you needed a place to stay?”

The lady looks at her skeptically. “Yes. What of it?”

“Well, we have a spare room in our cottage. I’m sure Mom wouldn’t mind.”

What on Earth is she doing? She has no idea how Mom would feel about a guest! It’s been so long!

As she looks up at the lady, the displeased expression she wears makes Maria fear she’s gone a step too far. There’s a long period of silence, and Maria is certain the noblewoman has seen through her.

“Charming,” Lady Claes drones, “but no. I urgently need to return to the academy.”

Maria relaxes upon hearing those words, only to immediately tense up again as their meaning becomes clear. “Is something wrong, Lady Claes?” she asks, boots splattering in the mud as she steps closer to the carriage.

Lady Claes glares at her. “Yes,” she replies, not expanding further. “I need to know a way to get past the creek.”

Maria shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Lady Claes, but it’s not possible. You’d have to detour back up the road and head over to Bridgeton to get past the waters, and that’d take a day longer than just waiting here.”

The noble lady hisses under her breath, and momentarily ducks into the carriage. There’s murmuring as another voice joins Katarina’s in discussing something. After a few moments, the lady once again pokes her head out, looking incredibly annoyed.

“It appears you are correct, Miss Campbell.”

“Sorry again,” Maria says, giving Lady Claes a sympathetic smile. “I know it’s not what you wanted to hear.”

The noble lady sighs as she slumps against the carriage window sill. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Maria frowns, wringing her hands as she tries to think of something to say.

The noble lady perks up quickly, however. “Ah! Miss Campbell. You said earlier that you’d be willing to let me stay at your house?”

She nods. “Yes, you’re welcome to stay the night with me.” She’s sure Mom won’t mind. Probably. “We have a guest bedroom,” she adds. “You’ll have to set it up, because it hasn’t been used in a while, but it’s a spare bed!”

The image of Lady Claes lying next to her in the same bed flashes through her mind. Her cheeks burn as she dispels the scandalous thought. She’s clearly been spending too much time around Lord Keith!

The noble lady tilts her head, eyes flitting to the inn. “Hmm…”

“A-Ah!” Maria stutters. “W-We also have sweets!”

Lady Claes’ eyes widen, and she turns her attention back to her. “Sweets, you say?”

Maria nods her head.

Lady Claes’ expression falls. “Oh right. Your sweets. I almost forgot.”

Maria arches an eyebrow. Before she has time to question the noble lady on her odd choice of words, she’s interrupted.

“I suppose it would still be better than the inn,” the lady says, glancing skeptically at the rickety wooden building down the street.

Maria can’t hold back the smile on her face. “Thank you, Lady Claes,” she says, bowing her head. She then turns to face down the road. “If your carriage driver would follow me, I can lead you there.”

“This is a house?”

In truth, the two-story tall sturdy-looking brick building is not nearly as bad as she’d feared after seeing the state of the inn. Yet it still manages to underwhelm her, all the same.

“Ah, I’m sorry, Lady Claes,” Maria murmurs. “I forgot you wouldn’t be used to something like this…”

She looks down at the ground. The path is still muddy from the rain. She sighs as she steps off the carriage and hears the ground squelch beneath her boots. Fantastic. She’ll have to have them cleaned later – maybe even buy replacements.

She takes a few noisy steps forward, cringing at the squishing sound that rings out each time. Judging by the racket behind her, Miss Campbell and Anne are not having better luck. She feels a tiny bit of relief as she finally makes it to the stone steps, and takes no time scraping her boots against the door mat, frowning at the smears of brown they leave behind.

“Ah! Lady Claes!” shouts Miss Campbell, running up the steps behind her. “Let me get that for you!”

She steps out of the way as the commoner pulls open the wooden door, and steps into the doorway.

“Oh, uh, Lady Claes?”

She sighs, turning to face Miss Campbell, who immediately withers under her gaze.

“Sorry, it’s just… could you please leave your boots by the door?”

She scoffs. “I’m not a savage, Miss Campbell.”

She crouches down to the floor and undoes her laces, stepping out of the boots as she stands up. Anne nods at her and quickly follows suit, leaving four pairs of muddied leather boots by the doorway. Miss Campbell smiles at them as she closes the door, then crouches down to the floor as she removes her own.

Looking at the hallway, Katarina is unsurprised at the house’s interior. The walls are plain plaster, unadorned with intricate designs or bright colors, and the flooring is made from dull polished wood. It’s exactly the kind of place she imagines a commoner would live.

“It’s very empty,” she eventually says, for the lack of activity unnerves her. She’s used to the bustle of servants, the swishing of uniforms, and the clinking of glass and porcelain.

Miss Campbell sighs, moving to her feet even as her eyes stay glued to the floor. “We don’t get many visitors, Lady Claes.”

Katarina raises an eyebrow at that. Does she really expect her to believe she has not already seduced half the town?

The commoner just shakes her head. “My mom’s out to market, so it’s a little quieter than usual.”

“Well, is your father home?”

There’s a pause. “Excuse me for a moment, Lady Claes,” the commoner replies, voice shaky.

Miss Campbell ducks through the doorway and disappears. Anne turns toward Katarina with a stern expression.

Katarina blinks. “What?”

Anne opens her mouth to speak, but at that moment Miss Campbell reappears.

“Sorry about that,” she says, smiling as she clasps her hands together. “I had to go get the fire started. Please, come in!”

Katarina frowns as Anne walks through the door with her luggage, the sounds of thunder and rain ceasing as she pushes the door shut. Her uniform’s dripping wet.

“What happened?” she says, rising to her feet as Anne drops her bags by the door.

“Apologies, my lady,” she replies, bowing even as water drips from her head. “It started raining again as I was unpacking.”

Katarina looks over her maid, frown deepening. “This won’t do at all. Come stand by the fireplace.”

She bows again. “As you wish.”

As Anne walks forward, Katarina thinks for a moment. The appearance of her uniform, sopping wet and crumpled, reminds her of her textbook from yesterday.

“Say, Anne,” she says, interrupting her maid’s attempts dry off by the fire. “Come over here, actually. I have a better idea.”

Anne looks at her somewhat warily, but nods and steps towards her. Katarina walks toward her and places her arms on her shoulders. She’s shivering.

“Okay, stand still for a moment,” Katarina says, before closing her eyes and thinking back to the library yesterday.

She holds the image of Anne’s dress in her mind and mutters the incantation. Immediately, she feels the magic flow through her hands. It’s a soothing feeling, like dipping a hand into running water. As the spell continues to draw on much longer than it did with the textbook, however, Katarina feels the stream dry up, and the sensation becomes unpleasant. The spell is not done, and it continues to draw on magic that no longer wishes to flow.

She grits her teeth as the once-pleasant sensation begins to turn into agonizing heat, but thankfully, just as the last trickles of magic sputter out of her palms, the spell comes to its end.

Dizzily, she opens her eyes, revealing a wide-eyed Anne looking at her now-pristine uniform in disbelief. She turns to Katarina in confusion.

“My lady?”

Katarina smiles, even as her vision swims.

“Ah! A restoration spell?” adds another voice. “That’s very clever, Lady Claes!”

She frowns as she staggers towards Miss Campbell, who is now dressed in a very plain-looking orange dress that (in Katarina’s opinion) shows a scandalous amount of leg. Perhaps it is a commoner thing.

Of course she looks good in it. Did she honestly expect any different? Miss Campbell could wear a potato sack and make it look stylish.

Katarina scowls and takes a shaky step towards her chair, before collapsing on the ground.

“L-Lady Claes!?”

“Katarina!”

She groans as she feels two pairs of arms wrap around her, the surrounding voices fading in and out as she clings to consciousness.

“Miss Campbell! Do you know what’s happening to Lady Katarina?”

“It looks like she’s suffering from magic exhaustion, but I’m not sure…”

“You’re not sure?”

“I-I’ve never experienced it myself!”

She barely feels it as they drape her across a chair. The voices face away as the soft fabric envelops her body.

Maria places her hand against the limp form of the noble lady and closes her eyes, letting loose a bit of the warmth building up at her fingertips. Instantly, Lady Claes’ body unfurls in her mind’s eye. The lady’s core is dim – much dimmer that Maria would’ve anticipated – and the streams of magic that should’ve been surrounding it have been reduced to isolated droplets. Just what had Lady Claes been doing before coming here, that a single restoration spell would exhaust her so?

She pulls back her magic and opens her eyes as she turns to the lady’s maid. “I definitely think this is magic exhaustion.”

The maid nods, looking at her with wide brown eyes. “Can you do something?”

Maria feels something stir within her. That’s right! Lady Claes is depending on her! She nods confidently. “I’ll try!”

The maid nods at her, before letting go of her hand and stepping back to give her space.

Maria takes a deep breath as she closes her eyes and returns to the connection. She summons the warmth from her body and begins threading it through her fingers, letting a trickle of light magic flow into the unconscious noble’s body.

As she expected, the light magic doesn’t flow into the noble’s physical being. There is no damage to Lady Claes. Instead, it begins to pool around her fingers, slowly flowing through the valleys and channels of Lady Claes’ immaterial being.

She halts the flow of new magic, calling on the portion within the noble’s body to move and spread out. It resists her commands, flowing like honey instead of water, but Maria dares not apply anything but the lightest force. This is delicate work.

When her light magic reaches the first drops of Katarina’s earth magic, the two mix. The diluted light magic slips from her grasp, but begins to flow more quickly as it spreads throughout the noble and encounters more earth magic, until the previously-viscous magic begins to flow freely.

Finally, with apprehension, she watches at the flow approaches the core. She steels herself, ready to pull back her magic at the first sign of trouble. Thankfully, there’s no reaction at all when the mixture brushes against the lady’s core. Indeed, the core doesn’t seem to react to its presence at all. Maria sighs in relief as she gently guides the flow through the rest of the channels. The streams are shallow and thin, but it should hopefully be enough.

She smiles as she opens her eyes and turns to the lady’s maid. “It’s done.”

The maid looks on in awe, and Maria’s smile falter: She recognizes that expression. However, the maid soon recovers, a small smile on her face as she bows toward her. “Thank you, Miss Campbell.”

“It’s no trouble at all, Miss…”

“Shelley. But please call me Anne.”

Maria shakes her head. “I prefer Miss Shelley.”

The maid frowns as she tilts up from a bow, but pauses upon looking at her face. “Very well, Miss Campbell.”

Maria tries to flash a smile, and hopes it doesn’t come off as insincere.

Lady Claes begins to stir not long after. “Ughhh,” she groans, rubbing her eyes as she sits up from the chair. “I feel weird.”

“My Lady,” begins Miss Shelley, moving to help her charge up. “Are you alright?”

Lady Claes frowns at her arm as she shakes it. “I feel… bubbly.”

“You were suffering from magic exhaustion.” Maria moves toward her, trying to sound confident. “I used some of my light magic to try and help you recover more quickly.”

Lady Claes arches an eyebrow at her, eyes widening slightly. “You did?”

Maria nods, a little disheartened by the lady’s reaction. Why is she always so surprised by her help? “Miss Shelley and I were worried about you,” she adds.

Even as the maid nods in agreement, her expression remains neutral.

Lady Claes continues to stare at Maria. “Is that why my magic feels… off?”

Maria nods. “I think so. You probably shouldn’t try calling on it, since it’s mostly my light magic in there right now.”

For a single second, Lady Claes’ eyes light up with curiosity. A moment later, she shakes her head, and her gaze returns to normal. “I will take your word for it, Miss Campbell.”

“Lady Katarina,” Miss Shelley interjects.

Both pairs of eyes turn to her.

“If you are feeling well, may I have permission to set up the guest bedroom?”

Lady Claes nods. “Yes. You are dismissed, Anne.”

Miss Shelley bows quickly before turning out of the kitchen and disappearing into the hallway. A few moments later, Maria can hear her ascending up the stairs.

“You really care about her, don’t you?” Maria says, smiling at the noble lady as she moves towards the kitchen to grab the sweets she’d prepared earlier.

“I do not believe that is any of your concern,” Lady Claes growls behind her.

Maria just smiles as she returns with the plate of sweets and places it down on the table. She lowers herself into the chair across from Katarina. “I could tell she was happy when she saw her uniform. A bit surprised, but happy.”

Lady Claes looks between her and the sweets, evaluating each. Her expression softens. “Yes, well, it doesn’t appear I will be repeating that feat.”

Maria shakes her head. “Just don’t use so much magic ahead of time.”

Lady Claes scowls. “I didn’t.”

There’s a feeling of shattering glass as Maria realizes she’s misread the situation.

“Oh,” she replies, looking down at the floor. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need your pity.”

There’s a long period of silence.

“Y-You know, everyone’s magic is a little different,” Maria stutters, looking up at the noble lady with as much conviction she can muster. “Maybe you just haven’t found your talent yet?”

Lady Claes scoffs. “Keith can toss a boulder through a wall with the same amount of effort it takes me to raise a mound of dirt.” She glares at her. “Do not insult me with banal pleasantries.”

Her cold blue eyes are as daunting as ever, and Maria is once again forced to look away.

“Sorry. I just… don’t know what to say.”

When she works up the courage to look at her again, the lady’s turned her attention to the sweets.

“There is nothing to say. You are blessed. I am not.”

Maria has trouble comprehending the lady’s words. Her light magic has hardly proven to be a blessing, in her view. However, to Lady Claes, who evidently does not have much power to her name? She supposes such a person might think she is very blessed indeed. Still, she shakes her head. “I don’t think I am blessed, Lady Claes, but I’m happy I was able to help you.”

Lady Claes looks at her skeptically as she finally reaches down and grabs a sweet from the plate. “It’s not just your magic,” she says, waving the bar in her hand. “You’re gorgeous, and charming, and smart, and…” She pauses, taking a bite and swallowing, looking somewhat annoyed. “…Evidently not bad at baking.”

Maria’s cheeks burn at the lady’s compliments. Does Lady Claes really think so highly of her? “Ah, b-but, I d-didn’t bake that,” she stutters.

The noble lady seems surprised. “Truly?”

Maria nods.

Lady Claes shrugs, placing the half-eaten bar back on the plate. “Then I suppose I may as well admit I was actually a little disappointed.”

Maria crinkles her nose; certain she missed some part of the conversation. “Lady Claes? Are you saying you’d like me to make some sweets for you?”

The noble lady shrugs again. “If you wish.”

Maria can’t tell whether or not Lady Claes actually wants sweets and is too embarrassed to ask, or whether she’s just being polite.

“I can try,” she says, looking carefully at the lady’s expression to try and gauge her reaction, “but I don’t think they’ll stack up to the sweets you normally have.”

Lady Claes is completely inscrutable as she watches her with cold blue eyes. “If you say so, Miss Campbell.”

Maria shakes her head as she moves to her feet, still not sure if the lady actually wants sweets or not, but not willing to offend her. “I’ll go get the fire started.”

The noble lady’s eyes follow her as she stands up from the chair.

Even now, she really doesn’t understand nobles at all.

Maria’s just finished putting the tray in the oven when she feels Lady Claes’ breath on her nape. She fights back a blush as she realizes the noble lady has been standing behind her.

“I never knew how much work went into baking,” she says wistfully. “I thought you just put the ingredients together and put them in the oven.”

Maria slides off the mittens and places them on the counter, before turning to face her. “Well, that’s not really wrong…”

The lady nods. “I know. But there’s clearly more to it than that. I could tell you knew what you were doing, too.” She sighs, crossing her arms. “I don’t know why I thought I could beat you.”

Maria frowns. “Lady Claes. It makes me happy to hear you compliment me like that, but I think that’s kept me from noticing something.” Her expression softens as she glances away. “When you say nice things about me, you always put yourself down afterwards. Like you don’t measure up.”

There’s silence. Maria wishes she had the courage to look Lady Claes in the eyes and see her expression. Instead, she takes a deep breath before continuing.

“I don’t want to think that I’m making you feel bad about yourself.”

Another period of silence. She doesn’t dare look at her now. It’s hard enough to continue as-is.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that you shouldn’t feel like that, Lady Claes.” She places a hand against her chest. “I shouldn’t make you feel like that.”

“I don’t understand,” Lady Claes says softly. “It’s just the way things are. I can’t compete with you.”

Maria finally works up the nerve to look the noble lady in the face, and is met with a despondent expression. Her heart hurts to see Lady Claes like this.

“Lady Claes,” she says, feeling a sudden burst of energy. “You did better in the exams than I did; better than your fiancé did. I think that’s worth a little pride.”

Her expression turns dark. “Do not patronize me!”

“I’m not.”

The noble lady shakes her head. “It’s not like it is for you. I’ve seen you in the library. You just write things down as you go through the book, and that’s enough. I have to work all day and all night to hammer the material into my head through repetition, and I’ve already gone through all of it before!”

“Learning doesn’t come as naturally to some of us,” Maria replies, offering a sympathetic smile. “That doesn’t make you worth any less as a person.”

Her nose wrinkles and she leans forward. “Then tell me. Tell me exactly what I’m supposed to be so good at, Miss Campbell.”

And she has to break eye contact again, because her cheeks flush at the thought of what she’s about to say. “I-I think you’re very kind, Lady Claes. It’s hard for you, and it doesn’t come naturally, but you’ve been doing your best to help me.”

There’s again silence, and Maria feels her cheeks grow warmer. “I know that might sound strange, because you’ve been… s-short with me at times…” she says, before feeling a burst of conviction as she stares into Lady Claes’ wide azure eyes, “but even though you have every reason to be upset and act coldly towards me, you’ve done your best to help me anyway.” She smiles. “I can tell you’re really good-natured.”

“I… am?”

Maria looks down and clasps her hands together. “I mean, I ruined your relationship with Gerald, so I understand. A-And I didn’t mean to – I really didn’t – but that doesn’t change what happened, does it?” She can feel the lady’s eyes on her. “I suppose what I’m saying is… not everyone could try to be kind to someone who hurt them like that, even on accident.”

The noblewoman is glancing away from her once Maria musters the courage to face her again.

“Why are you so different?” Lady Claes mutters.

Maria tilts her head. “What?”

Lady Claes’ eyes widen as she snaps back towards her. “Nothing. Never-mind that.”

“A-Anyway,” Maria continues, fighting back the anxiety in her chest, “I just wanted you to know that I’m here for you if you need me, Lady Claes. S-So…” She leans forward, grasping the lady’s hands. “May I please call you Lady Katarina?”

The noble lady flushes red as she tilts away, and her hands slip from hers as she stumbles backwards. “W-What?”

She quickly grabs the lady’s arm, keeping her from falling over. “It’s selfish of me, I know. But I still really want to be friends with you, Lady Claes.” Her cheeks are still burning as she turns away. “A-And, I want to understand you better; to know why you chose to be kind to me…”

A cold hand grabs her chin, and the lady gently turns her head to face her. Maria’s heart beats so loudly she’s certain Lady Claes will hear it, and she shivers as Lady Claes’ sharp blue eyes stare into her own.

It has taken her some time to come to terms with this part of herself, entranced as she had been by Prince Gerald and Lord Keith. Even when her affections toward the third prince waned, the Claes heir still tormented her daydreams. It was only when Lady Claes started appearing in his place in those same fantasies that Maria realized she held affections for the lady beyond simple gratitude.

Lady Claes claims she isn’t beautiful. Maria knows otherwise.

Though Maria wishes she wouldn’t, the noble lady eventually lets go of her. Maria braces herself against the table, head still spinning.

Lady Claes sniffs the air. “What are you baking again?”

“C-Cookies,” Maria replies, suddenly wishing she’d used the heart-shaped cutter to make this batch.

The corners of Lady Claes’ lips perk up almost imperceptibly. “They smell like the ones our scullery maid used to make.”

Maria furrows a brow. “Don’t you have personal chefs for that?”

Lady Claes stares off into the distance. “We do, but hers were special. She used to make them for me before—” The smile disappears from her face. “Never-mind. I do not know why I am telling you this.”

Maria’s expression falls. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to remind you of a bad memory. Baking reminds me of happier times as well.”

The noblewoman blinks. “It does? Why don’t you do it at school, then?”

Her eyes widen and she immediately covers her mouth, but Maria doesn’t mind the question.

“I got the kitchen workers in trouble doing it once. The baking club found out I was using some of their ingredients.”

“Oh. That’s surprising.” The lady cringes as she realizes her words came off as sarcastic. She waves her gloved hands frantically. “W-What I meant to say was—!”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Maria interrupts, smiling sadly. “You’re right: I should’ve realized I’d get caught. I mean, the kitchen workers said I could probably get the rules changed, since I’m on the council, but…” She shakes her head. “I was just being selfish.”

There’s a long pause. The lady turns away. “You could’ve gotten the rules changed at any time,” she mutters, eyes wide. “There was nothing stopping you.”

Maria once again feels like she’s missed a part of the conversation. “Lady Claes?”

The lady turns to her in stunned disbelief, and says in a quiet voice, “You’re really not faking it, are you?”

Maria blinks. “I don’t understand the question.”

Then, quickly – a little too quickly – Lady Claes recomposes herself. “Never-mind that,” she says, tilting her head up in a haughty gesture. “I was simply thinking out loud.”

Maria sighs, but smiles. She really doesn’t understand Lady Claes at all.

She’d like to.

The timer goes off, and Maria dons her oven mittens before opening the oven and pulling out the tray. Placing it on the counter, she slips off the mittens and slides them back into the drawer, before reaching down and using a bucket of water to douse the fire underneath the stove. Dropping the empty bucket onto the floor, she returns to the counter and prepares to move the cookies onto a plate.

A strange idea comes to her as she reaches for the cabinet, and she pauses, before instead opening a drawer and taking out a bag of pink icing. She feels its weight in her hand before glancing back to Lady Claes, who’s sitting quietly near the fireplace. Her heart skips a beat as the orange light flickers across the lady’s features.

Maria turns back to the cookies and draws a pink heart on top of each, cheeks flushing red as she does.

Once she’s prepared the table, she calls over Lady Claes, and the two sit across from each other.

Lady Claes looks at the plate of cookies with some hesitation, and Maria nervously tugs on the orange fabric of her skirt. Has she been too forward?

However, the lady either doesn’t notice her message or doesn’t care, because she cautiously picks a cookie off the plate and takes a small bite. Her eyes light up, and she consumes the rest in another.

Then, she smiles.

Not the vicious grin she often wears. Not the fake smile she plasters on for social events. A real, genuine, radiant smile, eyes sparkling with warmth and affection, and it’s directed at her.

Maria quietly grabs the underside of the table as her heart pounds, face burns, and head swims, but she doesn’t dare look away. She wants to burn this image into her brain forever.

“These are amazing!” Lady Claes says, voice full of delight. “Thank you, Maria!”

Maria sighs wistfully, smiling in return as she closes her eyes and tilts her head forward. “I’m truly glad you like them, Lady Claes.”

Her eyes fly open as reality intrudes on her fantasy.

“Ah, Lady Claes… did you call me Maria?”

The lady’s eyes go wider than Maria’s ever seen them go before, and she freezes in place.

Maria makes a placating gesture with her hands. “Ah! I’m not angry, Lady Claes. Just wondering if—”

“I suppose,” she drawls, rolling her eyes. “It is only fair.”

If Maria had not been holding the table, she surely would’ve slumped back in her chair and fainted. As it is, as she stares into the noblewoman’s not-so-icy blue eyes, she knows there’s no-one else for her.

“Thank you, Lady Katarina.”

The noblewoman blushes slightly. “D-Don’t look at me like that!” she whines. “I-I’ll tell you to stop calling me Lady Katarina!”

Maria just giggles.

Lady Katarina’s still smiling.

Chapter Text

Katarina stares up at the ceiling as she lies on the guest bed, unable to sleep. Blue light filters through the curtains as crickets chirp in the distance.

Here she is, trying to sleep in the house of her greatest enemy, as Keith most likely goes through her things and looks for evidence to damn her. How had it come to this? With nothing else to occupy her thoughts, she’s forced to reflect on that question.

The blonde light mage was nothing less than the most despicable creature to ever walk the Earth. The source of her misery, that peasant had used her guiles to steal her fiancé away from her, and then had the gall to act oh-so-innocent whenever she’d confront her. She’d not realized that she’d been playing into her oh-so-elegant trap. The others had been turned against her as she’d unwittingly played the villainess to her heroine.

Prince Gerald, the man Katarina had spent her entire life trying to show her love to, had barely spent a week with the girl before she realized she was losing him. It hadn’t even taken a year for him to turn on her completely, and took merely a few more days for him to be driven to kill her.

She pauses, chest tightening as she rubs a hand across where the wound should be. Even if the commoner had perhaps regretted it in her final moments, and even if she perhaps hadn’t intended it like she’d assumed, there was no question that the light mage was her enemy.

At least… the previous one was.

She casts off her bedsheets and moves to her feet, the cool wood creaking beneath her as she drops onto the floor. She paces around the room as she thinks.

Maria is different. Even if she shares the harlot’s name and appearance, she doesn’t act like her at all. Where the light mage had hypocritically berated her for not ‘letting out’ Gerald from their engagement, Maria rebuffs his advances. Where the peasant cruised along on natural ability, Maria is a hard worker. Where the commoner avoided her presence, Maria actively seeks her out.

It’s baffling. Why is she different?

It can’t be the bullying. Even without her presence, that has continued. It may have been under her (un)watchful eye at first, but it’s now entirely out of her control. It also doesn’t explain her disinterest in Gerald. Is it the baking? That doesn’t make any sense either. If anything, Maria seems to be more eager to be around her since she’d baked those cookies.

Katarina pauses.

No. The peasant may have been her enemy, but Maria isn’t. Some part of Katarina resists admitting it even now, but it’s the only logical explanation. The two are fundamentally different. They must be.

Maria has proven herself as an ally. Katarina would be a fool to reject her assistance, especially when that alternate version of her played such a large role in her demise. Maria may not be the master manipulator she’d thought, but she does seem to have a knack for getting people on her side. If she can use those abilities to her benefit instead…

She shakes her head. Perhaps that’s too optimistic. It’s certainly not something she can rely on. Still, it’s certainly not in her best interest to handicap her ally’s abilities.

Truthfully, she’s been unfair to her.

Katarina nods her head, resolving a course of action, and then finds her thoughts in disarray as she sees what’s at her feet.

Anne breathes softly at the foot of her bed. To Katarina’s displeasure, her companion has insisted on sleeping on the floor, stating that it is ‘improper’ for them to share a bed.

It’s surprising how young she looks. Without the black-and-white uniform of her position, she can easily be mistaken for an older sibling. Katarina finds it baffling she hasn’t been married yet. Are all men as pigheaded as Gerald?

The answer comes to her as her companion quietly rolls on the floor. Even in the pale moonlight, dark splotches can be seen at the edges of Anne’s loose-fitting nightgown. Her long sleeves slide down her arms, revealing patches of mottled skin. The edges of her collar reveal hints of a similar disfigurement on her back.

It’s not as though Katarina is unaware of Anne’s scarring – she hadn’t exactly been tactful when she’d caught her first glimpse of it at the tender age of eight – but it’s an unwelcome reminder of how easy it is to fall from grace.

Anne, however she carries herself, is nobility. Lesser nobility, yes, but nobility all the same. Yet instead of living the high life she rightfully deserves, she’s been reduced to working as a servant in their home simply because of a freak accident.

How arrogant has she been to assume Prince Gerald wouldn’t discard her all the same? How stupid is she to think her position really means anything? Katarina may be the daughter of a duke and not some lowly baron, but at the end of the day, she and Anne are kindred spirits. They’ve both been discarded by the ones they loved when they no longer served their purpose.

It’s that realization that ends up sealing her decision. Katarina lowers herself onto the cold wooden floor and lies down next to Anne, gently adjusting the blanket as she curls up beside her. It’s a nostalgic feeling; As a child, she’d sneak into her room whenever her parents’ arguments became too heated.

She feels her eyes slowly draw close as Anne’s presence allows her to relax. Then Anne stirs, and Katarina feels an arm wrap around her chest as she’s pulled into a warm embrace. She glances to her companion, but she’s still fast asleep.

It’s so childish of her to find comfort in this physical affection. She’s sixteen. She should be above such things. Yet as she closes her eyes and feels Anne’s body pressing against her back, she can’t bother to care.

The last thing she thinks before sleep overtakes her mind is that no matter how much her companion deserves a life of luxury and leisure, she’s grateful that Anne is by her side.

Celia realizes something is wrong as soon as her house comes into view. There’s an ornate carriage in the front yard, hitched to two well-bred horses as a man – who on closer inspection appears to be the carriage driver – loads bags into the passenger compartment.

She hurries her pace, barely holding onto her paper bags as the still-wet road splashes beneath her.

Is it the Ministry again? The Crown? The carriage does look quite fancy. Her eyes widen. Or can it be one of the nobles who’d wanted to adopt? Has Maria taken one up on their offer? She’d not been a good parent for even considering it all those years ago, but she’d come to her senses and told them off. Has Maria found out about those dealings? Has she gone to someone who can provide what she cannot?

After all, what good is a mother who cannot even bear to look her child in the eye?

She shakes her head as she passes by the carriage in a panic, rushing towards the open wooden door. No, no. She needs to stay calm. It’s probably just another Ministry visit, or message from the Crown. Entities that would have no interest in her or her daughter, if not for the magic she wields.

However, the sight that greets her upon stepping through the doorway and rounding the corner into the living room is none of those things.

A brown-haired woman in a maid’s uniform stands off to the side, holding a platter with a tea kettle on top. In the seat beside her is a brunette woman whose jewels and dress scream ‘noble,’ enjoying a cup of tea with her eyes locked on the chair across from her. Maria, her daughter, is daintily sipping from a teacup, evidently the object of the noblewoman’s attention.

The noblewoman lowers her teacup. “How is it?”

Her daughter grimaces as she lowers hers. “It’s very… strong.”

The brunette nods. “You get used to it after a while.”

Then, the most surprising thing of all happens: Her daughter smiles at the lady. “I suppose I will.”

Celia can only stare at the scene before her. How long has it been since she’s seen Maria genuinely smile?

The maid’s brown eyes meet hers, and she raises her fist and coughs quietly. “My Lady, I believe there is someone you should see.”

The two of them turn to the maid, then to her. She has to look away as Maria’s soft blue eyes meet her own.

“Oh.” There’s a quiet pause. “Hello, Mom.”

She continues staring at the floor. “Hello, Maria.”

Celia’s about to move to the counter and place down her bags when she sees a shadow cross the floor. She looks up, seeing the brunette noblewoman from earlier eyeing her.

“Good morning, Mrs. Campbell,” the noble says, dropping into a curtsy. “Your daughter graciously allowed me to spend the night.”

“Oh.” She’s really not sure how else she’s supposed to respond to that.

“My name is Katarina Claes,” the noble continues, “daughter of Duke and Duchess Claes. I would like to thank you and your daughter for your hospitality.”

Celia feels her heart stop. A duke’s daughter is inside her house. Will she even be able to refuse a request made by the family of Duke Claes, if she truly is here to take Maria away?

“Is she alright?” asks the noblewoman, looking at her strangely. “She’s gone pale.”

Celia shakes her head and bows. “My apologies, Lady Claes,” she says, hoping she’d gotten the title right.

“Do not be alarmed, Mrs. Campbell. I am not here in an official capacity.”

She doesn’t relax, though. She can’t ignore the possibility. Why else would a Duke’s daughter be here, talking to Maria so casually?

“I-If I may, Lady Claes,” she says, working up the courage to look the noble in the eyes. “What are your intentions with my daughter?”

She nearly does a double-take as she sees a flash of pink in the corner of her eye. Did Maria just blush?

Lady Claes, however, just seems confused. “As I said, I have none. She just let us stay the night while we were cut off by the river.”

Celia nods slowly, feeling herself relax. Yes, she’d been on the wrong side of the creek when the storm had rolled in. It was the reason she’d stayed the night at the inn a town over. “I see.”

“Anyway, do not worry, as we will be leaving shortly.”

“Ah! Lady Katarina!” exclaims her daughter, placing her teacup down and leaping from her seat.

Celia’s heart stills as she hears her daughter address the noblewoman so casually, but Lady Claes doesn’t appear to mind.

“Yes, Maria?”

“Please visit again soon!”

Maria steps close to Lady Claes, and Celia’s eyes widen as she realizes her daughter is indeed blushing.

The brunette purses her lips. “I… cannot make promises, Maria.”

Her daughter frowns, but Lady Claes holds up a finger and continues.

“Besides, we will see each other at the academy.”

Her daughter grins, and the pink re-appears on her cheeks. “I suppose you’re right.”

Celia blinks. This can’t be what she thinks it is, can it? The look in her daughter’s eyes… She cringes slightly as the memory of his blushing smile returns to her, and she shakes it away.

The noblewoman and her maid quietly thank her again, and file out the door. It’s only when it shuts that she has a moment to talk.

“Ah!” says Maria, eyes wide. “I need to go see her off!”

Celia drops her bags and grabs Maria by the shoulder as she attempts to run to the door. Her daughter goes limp at her touch.

“Maria,” she says, her daughter still staring at the door to her side. “Can you please explain what’s going on?”

“I’m sorry,” Maria replies quietly. “I know I shouldn’t have assumed you’d be okay with guests, but—”

She turns to toward her daughter, still not looking above the top of her dress. “You know that is not what I mean.”

Her daughter stiffens at her question, and Celia sighs, that alone being answer enough.

“How long?”

“A-About a week.”

Celia sighs again. Young love. “Does she know?”

“I- I don’t know, Mom,” she eventually replies. “Sometimes I think she does, like when she held me in front of the dorms, but then she’ll be acting cold to me the next day…”

“Acting cold to you?” Celia looks up in shock, only to realize too late that she’s looking her daughter in the eyes.

“It’s… complicated,” Maria says, smiling weakly. “We didn’t get off on the best foot.”

There’s no hatred in them as she feared. Just the confused gaze of a lovestruck young girl.

“Oh, my child,” Celia sighs, drawing Maria into a hug. She’s so tall now. When did she get so tall?

Her daughter hugs back.

“Does she make you happy?”

She feels her daughter’s face rub against her own as she nods.

“Then I suppose it can’t be helped.”

After all, isn’t that the most important thing? Even if she is nervous, and not entirely comfortable with the prospect, what kind of Mother would she be to deny her child happiness? Especially when Maria has been denied it so long already.

“Thank you, Mom,” Maria whispers.

She lets go of Maria and opens the door, and her daughter stands by her side and waves goodbye to the carriage as it bounces down the road.

Celia is still worried, of course. Her own brush with love, as wonderful as it had been, did not last, and that was with a commoner man. Her daughter is evidently infatuated with a woman, and a duke’s daughter at that. She’s playing with fire.

Yet as her daughter continues to waves at the carriage in the distance, Celia wraps an arm around her.

Maria turns to her in surprise, but quickly grins. Her blue eyes are filled with hope.

Perhaps it’s naïve of her, but in that moment, some part of Celia truly believes Maria can find the lasting happiness in love she couldn’t. As she wipes her eyes and stares into her daughter’s grinning face, she smiles as well.

“I love you, Mom,” Maria says, before launching into an even tighter hug.

Celia looks her daughter in the eyes as she replies, “I love you too.”

Something crawls down Katarina’s skin as she looks at her dorm room. On the surface, everything is immaculate. Nothing is out of place, or not where she left it. Yet gazing around the room, her chest tightens. Something feels wrong. Had she left her pencil there? Was that piece of paper always upside-down? Had the ashes in the fireplace always been arranged like that?

Is she seeing patterns that are not there, or have her fears come to pass? It’s too subtle. She can’t tell if she’s being paranoid or not. Part of her wishes Keith had made a mess of things, or left a calling card. At least then she’d be able to know for certain.

After a long search fails to dig up any evidence of tampering, she sighs. Even the letters in her drawer appear untouched, though it’s hard to tell, considering they were already opened. Thankfully, correspondence from the baking club is not among them. She had not been so foolish to put that in ink.

Her chest hurts, and she slips the drawer shut. Written evidence or not, that had evidently not been her wisest move. With Maria as her ally (she pushes down the revulsion that statement inspires), her baking skills could have proven very useful.

Ultimately, she can’t find anything that proves Keith’s presence. It becomes apparent that’s worse than the alternative. She doesn’t know how to respond. Aside from rightfully haranguing him about breaking into her room at the manor, what is she to do if he denies any involvement? Even if he’s lying, she can’t prove otherwise.

As she mopes about the room, Anne enters with her luggage, placing the bags on the floor and quickly getting to work unpacking.

She’s surprised when she hears another knock on the door. Anne looks up from her duties, but Katarina holds out a hand and walks toward it herself. Who could be visiting so late?

She gets her answer when she opens the door and finds the blue eyes of Prince Gerald staring into hers.

He smiles. “Ah, Katarina! I was looking for you—”

Katarina throws the door shut, dusting her hands off and turning back to the main room.

There’s another knock on the door, and she groans and hunches over, her hands curling into fists. She spins around to the door, and pulls it ajar.

“Go away!” she hisses, pressing her face through the crack.

The third prince’s smile does not falter. “Would another time work better for you?”

She snorts. “You can stay out there all night for all I care!”

She slams the door shut again, and Anne offers her a sympathetic look.

Katarina shakes her head as she moves to her desk, sitting down and gripping her hair as she hunches over its wooden surface.

That man is going to be the death of her.

Anne wakes her up early the next morning, and the two of them follow the usual routine.

The warm water of the bathtub feels heavenly on her skin as Anne runs her hands through her hair. Then, as the water slowly disappears down the drain, she steps over the ceramic wall and drips water the white tile floor. Anne takes a white towel from the rack and dries her off, discarding it and handing her bathrobe once she finishes. Finally, the two move to the vanity, where Anne begins to comb her hair as she sits and stares at her reflection in the mirror.

There’s a certain precision to it all. Each movement occurs at exactly the right time, both partners in sync, as though it were a well-practiced waltz.

She muses on that last point. That would actually be a nice addition to the routine. It’s a shame musicians are so pricy. She’s also not exactly thrilled about the idea of some stranger getting to see her au naturale, as it were.

She frowns, the mirror repeating her displeasure. No, scratch the musician. The idea doesn’t seem so appealing anymore.

Anne is different, of course. She’d grown up with her.

The first hints of sunlight begin filtering through the curtains as her companion helps her into her dress. Once Anne finishes pulling her corset tight (perhaps she’d had too many of Maria’s sweets yesterday) and slides her into her familiar blue, green, and white dress, she sits her back onto the vanity and styles her hair.

Katarina tries her best to remain calm as her waking mind finally turns to the events of the past few days. The sense of impending doom barely phases her anymore. Or, perhaps more accurately, she’s learned to live with it. Still, she’s grateful when Anne finishes placing the blue bow in her hair and draws her into a hug.

“My Lady,” she says quietly.

It’s still strange, she admits. Her companion was never one for flashy shows of affection before. As she returns the gesture, however, she knows it’s a change she doesn’t mind.

She flashes Anne a smile once she finally pulls away from the hug. The corners of her companion’s lips curl upwards in return.

“Have a pleasant day, My Lady,” she says, curtsying.

As Katarina nods and turns toward the door, there’s a light feeling in her chest that makes her think she can take on the world. No, it makes her know she can. She throws open the door, feeling invincible.

A haggard-looking Prince Gerald is sitting on the hallway floor across from her. Shadows underlay his eyes, and blonde stubble dots his chin.

“Good morning,” he says, moving to his feet as he looks at her with a bemused smile. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d climbed out the window.”

That feeling of invincibility slips through Katarina’s fingers. She swears she sees the third prince’s grin widen.

“I was going to ask you to a late-night stroll,” he says, before gesturing to the sunlight pouring through the hallway windows, “but that appears to no longer be an option.”

Katarina blinks, certain that she must still be asleep. The phantasm refuses to disappear from her vision.

“However, I believe my point has been made, so perhaps it would be prudent for me to reschedule our meeting for another time,” he says, holding out a halting finger as he pauses to yawn. “I believe you should find no objection to discussing matters during our usual training time.”

She doesn’t even know where to start. “I don’t—”

“Splendid!” he interrupts, clasping his hands together. Then, before Katarina can realize what’s even happening, he takes her hand and kneels down to kiss it on the wrist. It falls limply beside her once he lets go, sensation rippling down her back.

Her mind erupts into a cacophony of emotions. He had stayed up all night for her! He had murdered her! He had actually treated her as her fiancée! He must be planning something!

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, pushing her emotions down into her chest, but by the time she opens her eyes, he’s gone. His golden blonde hair and dark blue eyes linger in her mind, however, and try as she might, she’s not able to blink them away.

That is the Gerald she’s always wanted. That is the Gerald she’d never had. That is the Gerald she’d seen fawning over that peasant in the other world.

She blinks. Wait. The other Gerald had fallen in love with that commoner. Yet Maria is clearly not the same person. Who’s to say this Gerald is either?

As hope swirls in her chest, a small part of her can’t help but wonder whether this is a dream come true, or the prelude to a nightmare.

Chapter Text

The following day of classes is a blitz of lectures, information, and presentations as students and faculty alike scramble to cram the remaining material into the period prior to exams and summer break. Katarina barely manages to keep pace as her professors rattle off fact after fact and review existing material at a breakneck pace. Yet, miraculously, she is able to – if just barely.

There’s a little overlap with Maria. Katarina sees her in the second class that morning, going over runes and spell-circles. She doesn’t particularly mind when the light mage sits down next to her before lessons start. Indeed, her clear and crisp notes prove a great help whenever she fears she’s missed one of Professor Babcock’s haughty proclamations. Maria, to her credit, is very patient with her, even as Katarina suspects she’s doing little but slow her down.

They part with a knowing nod as the final class of the morning begins. For Katarina, that’s Magical History – a class she had wrongly assumed would be an easy way to pad out her transcript her first time around.

It’s an unfamiliar sensation to her, to feel the dawning comprehension as she jots down notes. Typically, that comes later, when reviewing material with Alan or…

She shakes her head as she rejoins the lecturer’s stream of words. No. Stay focused.

Either way, there’s a certain paradox in it all. The droning monotony of her academics is liberating. Her mind is far too occupied with soaking in words and pages to think of anything else. It’s not an outlet she would’ve ever expected, but it’s one she embraces as best she can.

That’s not to say it’s still not ridiculously hard, or that it’s all that enjoyable running herself ragged, but… well, she does need to keep her grades up to stay on the council, so finding a bit of solace in it is a nice bonus.

As the lecturer dismisses the class, Katarina gathers her materials and slips them into her leather pouch. After a brief stop at her dorms to hand off the business of organizing said materials to her trusted companion, she moves to the central building for lunch.

In retrospect, she should have noticed Maria’s absence as she passed the lower-class dorms. Yet the issue does not cement itself in her mind until she runs into a gaggle of lesser nobles blocking the hall. One she recognizes quite well.

Her former allies.

As she shouts out an angry proclamation at the group, they part, evidently still accustomed to following her commands. Two things immediately stand out to her.

The first is that Maria, who was until then obscured by the surrounding group, has tears in her eyes as she stares at the various trampled papers and books laid out on the floor.

The second is the girl with dark blonde hair and a pink dress, glaring at her with golden eyes.

Sienna.

“Lady Claes,” she hisses.

“Lady Nelson,” Katarina grunts, returning the glare.

Maria’s eyes flit up from the floor, looking at her with a truly pitiful expression.

“I am surprised to see ladies of such high class here,” Katarina says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Do you not have better things to do with your time?”

The various flunkies surrounding her look back and forth between the two of them before tentatively filing behind Sienna and leveling glares of their own. They fold immediately when she returns them, of course, but it still infuriates her.

Sienna shows no such hesitation. “I could ask you the same, Lady Katarina. Your morbid fascination with this commoner is quite baffling.”

“You would not be so bold as to order a Duke’s daughter, would you Lady Nelson? I thought better of you.”

“As did I, Lady Claes,” Sienna says, eyes narrowing. “For someone of your station to debase yourself so is truly pitiful.”

Katarina takes a step forwards, looking her former ally in the eye. “I am not the one kicking a woman around like a pack of thugs.”

“No, you were always too good for that,” Sienna growls, stepping forward to match. “You made us do your dirty work, and then discarded us when we were no longer needed.”

They’re little more than a foot apart now. “You chose your path. I did not discard anyone.”

“You and I both know that’s a lie, Lady Claes.”

There’s a quiet between them as they stare each other down. Katarina feels anger bubble in her chest. How dare she? Acting as though she is some helpless victim! “You were the one to forsake our partnership. Not I.”

Sienna scoffs. “And now you've replaced me with the shiniest trinket that caught your eye.” Her face twists into an ugly smile as she crosses her arms and leans forward. “Well, to be quite frank, Lady Claes, you needn’t have bothered with the charade. I have been much happier since we parted ways.”

Even as her former ally's words tear into her heart, Katarina raises a gloved hand to her mouth and laughs haughtily. “It appears we are in agreement about something after all!”

The noblewoman recoils, arms going limp as she blinks in confusion. There’s a momentary change in her expression, but before Katarina can place it, it’s replaced by a hateful glare.

“Let us take our leave,” she states, turning to the girls around her. “We have nothing else to discuss.”

Sienna spins around and begins down the hall, her posse following her. Several seem relieved at the issue not being pressed further, and look at her sympathetically before turning to follow. One or two flash her even more hateful glares before tilting their heads up with a snort. Either way, it’s not too long until they round the corner and disappear out of sight.

Feeling her shoulders slump as Katarina allows herself to relax, she turns towards Maria, who is still standing there with tears in her eyes. She sighs as she makes her way over to her.

The light mage’s breath hitches as Katarina places her left hand on her shoulder and bends down slightly so their eyes are level. Maria’s expression is truly pitiful. Even as her blue eyes light up at the sight of her (quite a change from the harlot’s behavior), she’s still fighting to hold back tears.

She extends her hand towards Maria’s insufferably perfect face, her fingers pressing into the light mage’s cheek as she gently swipes her thumb at the tears pooling beneath her eye.

“It’s unbecoming of a lady to cry,” Katarina says, the water soaking into her white glove.

Katarina repeats the process on the other eye, and her ally’s cheeks flush pink from embarrassment. To be babied like this must be humiliating, but it can’t be helped.

As she lets go of her shoulder and pulls away from Maria, her ally averts her gaze. “I’m sorry, Lady Katarina.”

She snorts as she shakes the excess water off her glove. “I’m not the one you should be sorry for. You’re only hurting yourself by reacting that way.”

Maria shakes her head, looking down at the ruined papers on the ground. “It’s not even the insults or the bullying itself. I’m… used to that.” She lets out a long shuddering sigh, and Katarina feels a sting of hurt in her chest. “I just wish I understood why they dislike me so much,” she says. “I thought I’d fit in at a place where everyone has magic, but…”

She gently cups her ally’s chin, bringing her soft blue eyes to meet her. Maria’s cheeks flush even redder, and Katarina once again feels a little guilty at treating her so childishly.

“Who’s to say you don’t fit in? The Student Council members all seem to like you.” She pauses, withdrawing her hand as images of Keith and Gerald flash through her mind. “Some a little too much if you ask me.”

Maria giggles softly, and Katarina feels a strange fluttering in her chest, but her laughter trails off quickly, and she clasps her hands and looks at the ground. “I’m still sorry about that, you know,” she says quietly. “I was so overwhelmed that someone was genuinely interested in me, that I didn’t really think about—”

“It’s in the past. Besides,” she says, smiling at Maria. “It looks like it might work out anyway.”

Maria grins in return, and Katarina has to turn away as she feels warmth on her cheeks. No wonder the harlot that shared her face was able to capture Gerald’s heart. What man wouldn’t be seduced by that smile?

“A-Anyway,” Katarina stutters, only turning to face her once the heat recedes from her face. “I’m quite famished. Do you think we could continue this conversation at the lunch table?”

Maria nods. “Yes, of course. Let me just grab these…”

Katarina stands off to the side as the light mage reaches down and gathers the trampled and torn papers. After a moment of watching, she sighs and lowers herself to help pick them up.

Maria turns to her in surprise, nearly losing her grip on the papers in her arm. “Ah! You don’t need to do that, Lady Katarina!”

She rolls her eyes. “If I leave it to you, this is going to take years.”

As she picks up a dirty textbook, she frowns as she notices an imprint of a shoe left on the leather cover.

“Looks like you’re going to get a lot of practice at restoration spells,” Katarina says, shoving the textbook and papers she’s gathered into her ally’s arms.

Maria grimaces as she looks at the dirty and torn pile in her arms. “Probably best to do that on a full stomach.” She begins to walk away. “I’ll meet with you at our table.”

Katarina strides after her, gripping her shoulder. “Wait. I will walk you back.”

Maria tilts her head. “I thought you said you were hungry?”

“If I do not accompany you, the others may try and ambush you again.” She flips her brown hair. “That would be bothersome.”

Maria smiles at her. “I see. Well then, Lady Katarina, please lead the way.”

She once again has to look away as warmth rushes to her cheeks. Indeed, the light mage’s charm is unmatched. No wonder she’s caught the eye of half the student council!

“Good morning, Mirabelle,” Katarina says, nodding at the raven-haired noblewoman.

Maria looks up from their conversation, following Katarina’s line of sight. “Ah! Lady Mirabelle!”

Mirabelle looks at the two of them suspiciously as she places her meal on the tablecloth and sits at the table. “You two seem in good spirits.”

“Well, of course!” Katarina says, nodding. “It’s a new day, time for fresh starts.”

“Cryptic.” Mirabelle smiles. “I like it.”

The three of them take their time eating, and Katarina can’t help but cringe as she sees Maria slouching over her meal. Quickly sipping at her soup and placing down the spoon, she turns to Maria and shakes her head. “No, no, no. Look at me, Maria. Back straight, arms tucked in.”

The light mage looks at her with wide eyes. “Ah! Forgive me, Lady Katarina!” She quickly matches her posture.

Katarina nods satisfactorily. “Good. Now hold your spoon like so,” she says, demonstrating the correct grip, “and take a dainty swipe at the surface of the soup.”

Once again, Maria matches her movements, lightly dipping her spoon into the soup.

“Finally, bring it to your lips and take a sip. Like so.”

The warm liquid enters her throat and Maria follows suit. Katarina allows herself a smile as the light mage sips the broth, but puts on a neutral expression as Maria locks eyes with her. “A commoner eating like a lady,” she drawls. “There may be hope for you yet.”

Maria smiles at her once more, and Katarina once again curses the universe for seeing fit to make her compete against that. Those golden locks, blue eyes, and flawless skin? There’s no question she’s utterly inadequate in comparison.

She’s jarred from her self-pity as Mirabelle braces herself against the table, eyes crinkling from laughter.

Katarina frowns at her. “What is so funny?”

“Last time I saw you, you couldn’t stop scowling at her.” Mirabelle holds a hand in front of her face as she chuckles. “That must have been some weekend!”

Sirius briefly frowns in the corner of her eye as Maria sits next to her at the table, but is all smiles again once she turns to look at him. The student council president gives off quite the disconcerting aura, and Katarina is baffled that no-one else seems to notice it. Then again, eight years with Gerald has taught her how to distinguish between a genuine smile and a mere pleasantry (as much as she had ignored that Gerald always wore the latter around her), so perhaps it’s to be expected. It’s also perhaps not a coincidence that those glares and frowns always seem to be aimed at her.

Katarina nods at the red-haired nobleman and returns an equally-false grin, making a mental note to keep an eye on him in the future. If the student council president has an agenda against her, he conceals it well.

The council members slowly file in, and her heart skips a beat as Gerald smiles at her and takes a seat beside her.

“My Katarina,” he whispers, wearing an oh-so-rare genuine smile, “Please help me stay awake through this meeting. As you are well-aware, I did not get much sleep last night.”

There’s a choked cough from beside her, and they both turn to face Maria, whose face has gone beet-red. The light mage makes a point of not looking either of them in the eye.

“Oh my, did you overhear that, Maria?” her fiancé chuckles. “As adorable a look that is on you, it is not what you think.”

Katarina frowns, suddenly confused. Which one of them was he flirting with again?

Maria shakes her head, still not looking him in the eyes even as the red gradually fades. “S-Sorry. Shouldn’t have eavesdropped.”

With that, Gerald’s gaze shifts back to Katarina, and his voice drops even lower than before.

“I must admit, I’m a little surprised to see her sitting next to you.” He flashes a winning smile before moving his head closer. “If it’s because you wish to run your hands through some golden locks, I am more than happy to oblige.”

Now it’s Katarina’s turn to blush, heart beating loudly in her chest. This feels unreal. Where has this man been all her life?

“I…” she mutters, desperately trying to put her thoughts into words. “I…”

He pushes a finger against her lips, and the touch is electric.

“Shh,” he says, dark blue eyes devouring her whole. “I know.”

She shivers at the sound of his voice, her mind imagining him leaning in closely as their lips press together and-

“Ugh,” groans Alan. “Get a room, you two.”

She’s sent crashing back to reality as her fiancé withdraws from her. She glares at the fourth prince.

“What?” Alan says, as he crosses his arms and pouts. “We were all thinking it.”

Surveying the table, Maria fiddles with her bow, cheeks pink with embarrassment as Sirius stares at them with a raised brow.

She just glares. “He is my fiancé.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Alan mutters, still not looking at them.

Thankfully, any ensuing argument is defused as the Ascart siblings enter the chamber.

“We were delayed,” Nicol says, nodding at Sirius.

The student council president nods back. “It’s fine. We’ve still got a few minutes before proceedings start.”

The two move towards the table, Sophia briefly pausing as she looks in Katarina’s direction. Nicol follows his sister’s gaze, staring at Katarina flatly as they lock eyes.

“It appears that the seating arrangement has been altered,” he says, a hint of confusion in his voice.

Sirius shrugs as he rounds the table. “Technically there are no restrictions on where a council member may sit. Though custom dictates the members sit in order of seniority, it is not a requirement.”

He nods, still staring at Katarina. “I see.”

Sirius’s silver eyes glance at her before returning to Nicol. “At any rate, please make yourself comfortable, councilman.”

The male Ascart nods, eyes finally tearing away from hers. It’s then when she notices the pair of red ones across from her.

Sophia’s lips curl ever so slightly upwards as the two of them match gazes, and Katarina tilts her head in acknowledgement.

Nicol, once again, just stares. His surprise is understandable – Katarina always knew Sophia to wait for him to take a seat. Somewhat reluctantly, he sits next to his sister, eyes flitting between her and the other council members.

Only two seats remain empty. One is Sirius’, at the desk across from the head of the table. The other is for the absent council member.

“I thought Keith was back?” asks Alan, looking at it curiously. “Or is he a no-show again?”

Anxiety wells in her chest, and Katarina scowls. “He should be here.”

Someone lightly grips her shoulder, and Katarina turns to see Maria offering a light smile.

Katarina looks away, closing her eyes as she takes a deep breath as she pushes down the stew of emotions bubbling in her chest.

There’s another hand on her back, and she opens her eyes to see Gerald smiling at her as well.

Truthfully… it’s a little suffocating.

She mutters a thank you as she gently pushes their arms away, closing her eyes and letting out a shuddering breath as her heart pounds beneath her chest. After a few moments, the toxic mix of anxiety and affection fades, and her heart slows.

“What the—”

It is, of course, at that moment that Keith chooses to arrive.

Her eyes fly open, revealing her so-called brother’s dark blue eyes staring daggers at her.

“This is not the seating arrangement I was expecting,” he states, standing just outside the doorway as the wooden door comes to a close behind him.

Sirius moves towards the new arrival. “Technically, there are no rules against—”

He sighs loudly, brushing him aside as he moves toward the empty seat at the end of the table.

Once both Keith and Sirius take their seats, the meeting begins as planned. The first item on the agenda is the need for several teams to inspect the ring of ruins surrounding the academy – evidently an extension of the ancient sorcerer’s complex the Magic Academy was built near.

Sirius, citing familiarity with the main structure and the dangers within, volunteers to inspect it. The surrounding perimeter is left up to the first-year council members.

“Why do we need to do an inspection anyway?” Katarina asks. “The practical exam is next semester, is it not?”

Sirius nods. “Yes, but the ruins aren’t totally inert. The Ministry of Magic has tasked the academy with taking periodic readings throughout the year. Seeing as how summer break is approaching, it would seem wise to make sure there aren’t any unexpected surprises on our return.”

“That makes sense,” offers Gerald. “Is there a map of the grounds we could look at?”

The council president grins, withdrawing a rolled-up tube of paper from underneath the table. “I was waiting for someone to ask.” He unfurls the map on the wooden surface, each of the council members leaning over to get a better look.

“As you can see, the academy is here,” he says, pointing to a collection of brown rectangles in the bottom corner of the image. “The perimeter ring passes by a little further out.” He points to the portion of a broad circle passing near the collection of rectangles. “If you were paying attention on your way in here, you might have seen it just before you pass the gate.”

“I’m guessing that black rectangle in the center is the ruins, then,” offers Keith.

Sirius nods. “Yes, but as I said earlier, I will be inspecting those.”

“The ring’s a lot bigger than I expected,” mutters Alan, looking at the scale of the common building in comparison.

“It would probably be best if we split our efforts,” adds Maria.

“That does lead to a problem,” Gerald says. “With Sirius inspecting the main ruins, we have an odd number of people.”

Alan scoffs. “One group of three, two groups of two. Not that hard, Gerald.”

The third prince turns and smiles at him. “And what method do we use to choose which group is the odd one out, brother?”

Alan rolls his eyes. “We just choose who we want to be with and work things out from there.”

“Splendid!” exclaims Gerald. “Then I choose Katarina.”

Before the words can really register, another voice joins the fray.

“I-If it’s alright, I’d also like to b-be with Lady Katarina,” Maria stutters.

“Lady Katarina!?” Keith exclaims, looking at Maria with wide eyes. “Since when have you two been so close?”

Maria flinches back, and Keith’s gaze turns to Katarina.

Katarina flashes him a queenly smile. “Since someone left me behind at the Manor, and the river blocked me from heading back to the academy.”

Keith’s eyes go wide. “You cannot possibly mean that you—”

“Yes,” she says, smirking at him, “and it’s all thanks to you.”

Keith glares at her, lips taut with anger.

“We’re getting off-topic,” Nicol interjects, and just about every other member at the table relaxes at his defusal of the argument. “Perhaps it would be best if the selection were randomized.”

“In the interests of avoiding conflict, I’m going to exercise executive privilege in this matter,” says Sirius. “We will select the survey groups by random drawing. Whoever’s last to be picked may choose a group at their leisure.”

Nobody seems too satisfied at the answer, but aside from some grumbling, there are no objections.

Sirius prepares a list of names and places them in a bowl, shaking it before handing it to Nicol, who closes his eyes and withdraws the first name.

“Alan and myself.”

He places the two slips of paper on the table before reaching in and grabbing the next.

“Gerald and Keith.”

The third prince’s and the Claes heir’s names are placed at a distance from the previous two, signifying a new group. Both of the Claes siblings release a breath they didn’t know they were holding.

“Katarina and…”

Nicol frowns, placing her name off to the side as he stares at the other slip in his hand.

“Sophia, I presume?” states Gerald, flashing a wicked grin.

Nicol shoots him what’s almost a glare as he places the slip next to hers. “Correct.”

Sophia, on the other hand, looks at Katarina quite happily. The brunette tries to match her enthusiasm, despite her own misgivings with the arrangement.

“So that leaves me, then?” asks Maria, pointing to herself.

“Correct,” replies Sirius. “As Nicol stated, you may choose any of the groups.”

The light mage smiles as she turns to Katarina. As she opens her mouth to speak, there’s really no question what the next two words out of her mouth are going to be.

“Maria,” interrupts Nicol. “Would you mind trading with me?”

Maria blinks, mouth frozen open.

“I’d really appreciate it if I could be in the same group as Sophia.”

The light mage frowns, looking away from the black-haired nobleman. She plays with her bow for a moment before saying, “I suppose if it’s for—”

“It’s fine, brother,” says Sophia, red eyes full of energy as she smiles at her sibling. “I trust Lady Kat- I mean, Claes.”

One of the nobleman’s eyebrows rises ever-so-slightly. “I see.” It’s always hard to tell with Nicol, but he doesn’t sound too happy with the answer.

Maria smiles at the white-haired girl, looking quite relieved. “Thank you Lady Ascart.” She turns her head back to the brunette. “Then I choose Lady Katarina.”

Katarina once again has to turn away from the Maria’s radiant smile, cheeks burning as she fights to suppress her own embarrassment and envy at the light mage’s charms. Perhaps she’d been too harsh in judging the other Gerald. If she were a man, she’d certainly be no match for them.

There’s a choking sound, and when she’s roused from her thoughts, she’s greeted by the sight of the rest of the table staring at her.

“What?”

The rest of the meeting progresses quickly, though for some reason Keith’s glare is even more hateful than usual. It’s only when Sirius is about to pronounce them all adjourned that she raises her hand and makes her request.

The student council president blinks at her. “You wish to present a measure for consideration?”

She nods.

“Are there any objections?”

Alan is blunt. “Is it quick?”

“Very,” says Katarina

Keith looks as though he wishes to object, but his curiosity evidently overpowers his spite, and he holds his tongue.

“Hearing no objections, you may go ahead.”

Katarina nods. “I would like to propose that council members have unlimited access to the kitchen and ingredients.”

“Lady Katarina!” Maria exclaims. “You don’t need to do that!”

In truth, she does. It isn’t wise to handicap her ally’s power.

Keith looks at the two of them strangely. “I’m surprised you’d make that suggestion. Is there some kind of story behind it?”

She grins wickedly at him. “Maria made me the most delicious cookies the other day. I’d like her to be able to make more.”

He rolls his eyes. “Of course.” He freezes. “Wait, so there’s some reason she can’t do that currently?”

“The baking club didn’t like the missing ingredients,” Maria mutters.

“A-Anyway!” Katarina interjects, “Let’s vote!”

In the end, not even Keith votes against the measure. Shortly afterwards, the meeting is dismissed, and everyone begins to file out the doors.

Well, almost everyone.

“Katarina. Please meet me in the south gardens at seven,” Gerald says, setting her heart aflame as he pecks her on the cheek.

She’s too lost in thought to respond before he exits the room with a little wave, leaving her alone with Sirius and Maria.

Maria is unusually withdrawn, looking at the floor as the two of them make their way out of the chamber. She only speaks up once they’re halfway to the dorms.

“You didn’t need to grant me such a selfish request,” she says quietly.

Katarina rolls her eyes. “Honestly, Maria. Being a little selfish is good. If you try and live for nothing, you’ll have nothing to live for.”

She blinks, pale blue eyes flitting up to her. “That’s actually quite insightful, Lady Katarina.”

Katarina decides not to mention that quote came from one of her Magical History lectures. Then, as the light mage once again breaks out a heart-melting smile, Katarina tries to confront it head-on.

“Every time I think you’ve shown me as much kindness as I could ever hope for, you show me even more,” Maria says, blue eyes glistening in the afternoon glow. “I… truly admire you, Lady Katarina.”

As the light mage sets her cheeks aflame, Katarina knows it must be from embarrassment. Anyone would be flustered hearing someone so beautiful say something so sappy. Whatever man Maria chooses as her husband will be very lucky indeed.

“Thank you,” is all she can think to say.

The two of them walk the rest of the way in silence.

Chapter Text

Katarina clutches her chest as she stands on the outskirts of the southern garden. She’s not sure if it is adrenaline or anticipation, but her heart pounds as she glances around the greenery. There’s still some time before their meeting, and she knows from experience that Gerald – well, her Gerald – is not one to arrive early, but she’s unable to quell the feelings rippling through her chest.

What if he doesn’t show up? It’s not like her Gerald hadn’t ‘forgotten’ his fair share of outings, as blind as she’d been to the nature of his rejections. Or what if he does show up, with Maria wrapped around his arm? She’d not thought him to be so vindictive, but that was before the other Gerald killed her. The third prince is nothing if not persistent. With his terrifying charm and intellect, it would not be surprising to find Maria entranced, regardless of the promise she’d made to her.

She shakes her head, clearing the thoughts from her mind. No. She can’t afford to think like that. This is a chance for a new start, and Maria is proof that this world is not like her previous one. Projecting the actions of the harlot onto her had proven a grave miscalculation. She should not commit the same mistake with her fiancé.

There’s a tap on her shoulder, and she yelps as she spins to face her assailant, coming face to face with the sharp features, golden hair, and blue eyes she’d been waiting for.

“Prince Gerald!” she exclaims, before closing her eyes and taking a calming breath. “Pardon me for my impropriety. You surprised me.” When she looks again, he’s staring at her with his usual inscrutable smile.

“Katarina,” he says, offering the crook of his arm. “May I?”

She locks arms with Gerald, heart fluttering as their shoulders touch. How long has it been since he walked with her like this?

She can still recall the way she hung off him when he’d first arrived at their estate and flashed that charming smile, speaking softly as he exchanged pleasantries and complimented her appearance. She fell in love on the spot. It did not matter what the others thought of her as long as Gerald was by her side.

Perhaps she’d been so distracted by him that she hadn’t noticed the uneven stone in the path ahead. There was pain, a strange itch in the back of her mind, then darkness. She’d been ecstatic when he proposed an engagement shortly after waking. Marred as her appearance had been, she’d always looked upon that scar fondly. If that was the price for her wonderful prince, than she would gladly pay it.

She was a fool.

The prince’s words were empty, his gestures meaningless. She was an annoyance to him, one that he must have grown to resent even before they entered the academy. To think that as she attacked the peasant, trying to destroy her rival as she had all the others, she’d been attacking the one he truly loved? Perhaps it’s not surprising that his resentment crystallized into hate.

She turns towards this new Gerald, examining his features closely as they begin down the gravel path. Are those crinkled eyes hiding irritation? Are those pursed lips concealing frustration? Even after eight years in his presence, many of the prince’s feelings remain an enigma.

“I must say, I’ve been hearing all manner of interesting things about you as of late,” he says. “I did not think you and Maria would grow so close.”

Her eyes narrow, and a trickle of anger rises from her chest. “No thanks to you.”

He shrugs, flashing another princely smile, and Katarina feels it melt away.

“That’s all in the past, though.” says Katarina, clutching his hand. “As long as you’re by my side from now on…”

He nods, looking at her with those deep blue eyes. “And as long as you’re by mine.”

Colorful flowers and bushes, dimly illuminated by setting sun, surround them as they journey deeper into the garden. Her heart flutters even as anxiety creeps from her chest. Her gaze alternates between the beauty surrounding her and the beauty walking next to her. This feels unreal.

She smiles as she passes a bush of yellow flowers. “I’ve never been to the southern grounds. This garden’s beautiful.”

He smiles back. “Almost as beautiful as you,” he replies.

Katarina’s head swims as her cheeks flush with warmth. How long has it been since he’s given her such a compliment? She braces herself against him as she struggles to get her emotions under control.

“So how have things been for you, Katarina?”

“Fine,” she says, still a little woozy. “I’ve been studying, mostly. Lots of tests coming up.”

His eyes crinkle as he chuckles. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, considering your placement on the entrance exams.”

She flashes him a wicked smirk. “Ah, the proof that Prince Perfect isn’t as flawless as he thinks.”

His smile widens. “My, Katarina, talking down to your fiancé? Aren’t you ashamed?”

She waves a hand dismissively. “Please. You needed to be brought down a peg.”

“Yes, because I’m the only one here who’s arrogant.”

“I’m glad you agree!”

He stops walking, hunching over as he barely holds in his laughter. Katarina doesn’t resist the chance to twist the knife.

“So, what are they all saying about the genius prince who got beat by his fiancée?”

He stops laughing, and Katarina’s grin falters. A chill runs up her spine. Has she pushed him too far? Then, in a smooth motion, he reaches out and grabs her by the chin, holding her face inches from his.

“Something about how lucky I am to have such a catch,” he says.

Katarina isn’t sure whether it’s the adrenaline or his warm breath on her lips, but her heart pounds so loudly she knows he can hear it. After a tantalizing moment, he pulls her back to her feet, and she crosses her arms and turns away from him.

“W-Well, they’re right!” she huffs, taking a moment to let the heat recede from her face before facing him. “I’ve been working really hard to stay on top!”

His ever-present smile doesn’t waver. “I did not think you the studious type, Katarina.”

She rolls her eyes. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

There’s a sparkle in his eyes. “Apparently so.”

They resume walking. The flowers and plants surrounding them are cast in an orange glow intersected by long shadows as the sun nears the end of its journey through the sky. Katarina doesn’t dare say a word, clutching onto Gerald’s white uniform as she takes in the entirety of this ethereal dream.

“Think you’re going to beat my next score?” he says, turning to her with a slightly-more-evil than normal grin. “I must say, I’ve studied this time.”

She tilts her nose and gestures to herself with a gloved hand. “Who do you think you’re talking to? I’m Katarina Claes” she exclaims, even as her chest tightens with anxiety.

He nods at her, face turning back towards the path ahead.

“But, if you do win,” she sighs, kicking a piece of loose gravel as she steps forward, “I suppose I won’t hold it against you.”

He snaps back to her, eyes wide. “Pardon?”

She blinks, before once again adopting a haughty pose. “As long as you make it up to me afterwards! Do you know how humiliating that’d be to my reputation?”

The third prince relaxes, falling back into his usual smile. “Perhaps a new dress, then?”

She frowns, a lance of anxiety rushing through her chest. “Would you like to see me in something different?”

“It’s just an offer,” he says, looking toward the path ahead. “Would it not be nice to vary your wardrobe?”

She brings a gloved hand to her chin, thinking back to the sparkling blue dress she usually wears to social events. “I suppose.”

“Besides,” he says, pulling her closer, “sometimes you need a change of pace to see the beauty all around you.”

She nuzzles her face into him, feeling his warmth against her cheek. Truly, this is the man she’d been waiting for all those years. “I missed you,” she mutters.

“Mhm.” He runs a hand through her hair. “Perhaps we’ll do the dress either way.”

She opens her eyes, tilting her head as she looks at him. “Really?”

“I might have to bring along a friend, though.”

She arches a brow, but says nothing.

He looks at her sympathetically. “Don’t worry. I’ll be there with you.”

“I suppose,” she sighs. She’s not happy about hearing Nicol will be there, but at least the Ascart has a tendency to fade into the background.

As they round a rosebush, they encounter a woman hunching over the undergrowth, humming a soft melody to herself as she reaches for a nearby watering can. She freezes in place as she matches eyes, and even with her coppery hair in an updo, there’s no mistaking Lady Hunt.

“Well, this is a surprise.” She moves to her feet, brushing her hands off on the white apron draped over her dress.

“Good evening, Mary,” Gerald replies.

“Hello, Lady Hunt,” Katarina adds.

“Must be nice, taking a walk with your fiancé.” Her voice is chipper, but her eyes are cold.

Katarina narrows her eyes at the noblewoman. “What is the problem with that?”

Lady Hunt stares at her for a while, an inscrutable expression on her face. “Pardon me,” she eventually says, reaching down for her watering can. “I need to go tend the petunias.”

As the lady walks out of earshot, Katarina looks up at her fiancé and frowns. “She seems rather unpleasant.”

“It appears we are both targets of her ire.”

“Poor Alan.”

He snorts. “Don’t let him hear you say that.”

She smiles, but releases his arm, moving in front of him and bowing her head. “Prince Gerald, perhaps I was too hasty earlier. I withdraw my request to annul the engagement. I would like to try again with you.”

“I’m glad to hear that—”

“On one condition,” she interrupts, looking him in the eyes. “If we truly are to start over, I need a promise from you.”

He blinks, lips pursing into a line. “What is it?”

“If I state my intent to annul the engagement again, you will not contest it.”

He frowns.

“This is non-negotiable,” she says, shaking her head even as a part of her screams that she’s wasting her chance. ”I need to be able to trust you.”

He sighs, nursing his forehead. He’s quiet for a long time, staring at her with a troubled expression

She turns her nose up at him. “Very well,” she says, turning away. “Then I believe we have nothing else to discuss.”

Her heart shouts for her to stop as she begins to walk away, but thankfully, it only takes a few steps before she hears his clear voice call out from behind her.

“I accept your terms.”

She quietly sighs in relief, turning back to him with a smile. “Good.”

He smiles at her, but she isn’t finished just yet.

“So, can I get that in writing?”

Chapter Text

Lord Ascart’s black eyes stare into her. “You’re late.”

The Ascarts are both wearing their uniforms. The black military tunic looks almost comical on the petite Lady Ascart, but Katarina can’t help but notice how nicely it contrasts against her white hair.

Katarina tugs at the belt on her own uniform, scratching underneath. “I did not realize we would be wearing these today. It took me some time to get changed.”

“Sister and I waited for you. The rest have gone ahead.”

Katarina arches a brow as she looks around the empty field. “Even Maria?”

“Miss Campbell is waiting at the inspection area, in case you missed us.”

“I see.”

“In any case, I will be joining Prince Alan now.” His eyes narrow. “Do look after my sister.”

She nods. That has to be the most emotion she’s ever seen on the older Ascart’s face.

He begrudgingly says his goodbyes to his sibling, and the two of them begin walking to the silhouette in the distance, Lord Ascart sending one lasting stare her way before turning and heading towards his own assignment.

Dirt crunches underneath their boots as the two of them follow an ill-maintained path through the fields surrounding the academy. The sun hangs overhead, heat drilling into her black uniform and making Katarina uncomfortably aware of what it must feel to be boiled alive.

“How was your weekend, Lady Claes?” asks the white-haired girl.

Katarina cringes, the panic of Keith’s actions flashing through her mind. “It was fine,” she lies, the sweat running down her forehead not helping her deception. Then, remembering her stay with the light mage, she adds, “At the very least, some misconceptions were cleared up.”

“Pardon?”

She sighs, wiping a hand against her forehead. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

“I see.”

She tugs at the uniform’s collar, fanning herself as the sun shines over them. “Are they really going to make us wear these during the exam?”

The young Ascart eyes her curiously. “I like it. Feels much nicer than a dress.”

“Yes, but they’re hot,” she whines, wiping a bit of sweat from her brow.

“I think there’s a cooling enchantment on mine,” replies the white-haired girl, tugging on the fabric experimentally. “Maybe yours didn’t get it?”

She scratches at her neck. “I don’t think mine got any enchantments. This itching is… Gah!”

The Ascart’s red eyes are full of sympathy. “I’d offer to trade, but…”

Katarina holds up a hand. “It’s not your fault.” Her vision turns dark. “Whoever’s it is will be getting a very strongly-worded letter from the student council.” A gust of air blows past her, and Katarina sighs in relief. “Ah, that feels nice.”

“I’m happy I could help.”

Katarina spins to face the wind mage, seeing the young Ascart’s hand glowing with magic.

Her smile falls, and the breeze lets up as the light fades from her hand. “You don’t like it?”

“No, it’s just… shouldn’t you save your mana?”

She tilts her head and smiles. “It’s fine, Lady Claes. I have enough to spare, and I won’t need to do it once we’re in the shade.”

“Thanks,” Katarina mutters, looking away. As the breeze picks up again, she admits it does feel nice on her face. “It’s too bad you can’t do anything about the itching. I swear, if this isn’t fixed by the time of the exam…” She pauses, eyes widening as she turns to the wind mage. “Hey, who am I with, anyway?”

“You don’t know? You’re with Alan, Gerald, and Maria.”

Katarina’s eyes widen. Oh. That had been why Keith was angry with her. In truth, had she understood his proposal, she would’ve had no objection to keeping the light mage as far away from her as possible. Now though…

She shakes her head. “I see.”

The tower looms ahead. The far side is composed of curved black obsidian, faint patterns barely visible in its composition. The other sides are of a more conventional stone construction, moss and vines clinging onto the aged stone bricks.

As they near it, a familiar silhouette comes into view. It resolves into Maria Campbell, back turned to them as she looks at their destination. Katarina pauses, taken aback by how nicely the gold trim of her uniform matches her hair.

Maria turns to her, blue eyes lighting up as their gazes meet. “Lady Katarina!”

Katarina’s heart lurches at the sight of the light mage’s eager smile. “Hello Maria,” she says calmly. She must still be anxious from last night’s meeting with Gerald.

The blonde runs over to her. “It’s good to see you!”

She nods. Her face feels warm. It must be the heat.

Maria’s smile falls as the white-haired noblewoman shrinks away from her. “Lady Ascart?”

The cool breeze halts as the red-eyed noble slides behind Katarina’s back. “Um, hello,” she mutters.

The light mage opens her mouth to say something, but Katarina cuts her off, eager to get inside.

“So, Maria, have you examined the ruins yet?”

The light mage blinks as her gaze shifts back to Katarina. “Ah, no, not yet.” She gestures to the base of the tower. “I did look around outside, but I didn’t think it was wise to go in by myself.”

“Good. Nothing to report then?”

Maria shakes her head. “No, Lady Katarina.”

“Well, now that I’m here, let’s go in together.”

Maria nods, gaze shifting to her side.

Lady Ascart remains close behind Katarina as the three of them begin walking toward the tower ruins. Katarina continues to scratch at the uniform, attempting to distract herself by imagining various horrible fates for the one responsible for that oversight.

Katarina sighs in relief as she steps into the cool air of the tower, still scratching at her uniform. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Lady Katarina, are you all right?” asks Maria, her silhouette framed by the sunlight pouring through the doorway behind her.

She eyes the light mage suspiciously. “Your uniform wouldn’t happen to be incredibly itchy and uncomfortable, would it?”

“No, Lady Katarina. It actually feels quite pleasant.”

She groans, throwing her arms in the air. “Why am I the only one to have not received an enchanted uniform?!”

The light mage steps out of the sunlight, her facial features coming into view. She bites her lip. “I’ve learned a little enchanting in class, but without a reference text…”

Katarina shakes her head. “I’ll just have to make do with the uniform as-is. Let’s finish this quickly.”

The three of them spread out across the room, examining the worn stone. Aside from the light pouring through the doorway, it’s very dark.

As her eyes gradually adjust to the room, Katarina comes across some symbols carved into the stone. “I recognize this.”

“It’s hard to see…” Lady Ascart mutters from beside her.

Maria’s voice echoes from behind her. “Lady Katarina? Did you find something?”

“There’s a message here!” she shouts, tracing her finger across the chiseled patterns in the stone. “It’s hard to see in the dark!”

She hears hurried footsteps behind her. After a moment, they cease, replaced by Maria’s light panting.

There’s a bright flash of light, and Katarina’s eyes instinctively snap shut as she shouts in surprise. She feels Lady Ascart cling onto her uniform as she lets out a sharp yelp.

“S-Sorry! Sorry!” says Maria. “I think it’s better now.”

Katarina cautiously opens her eyes and turns back towards the light mage, finding her wearing a sheepish grin as a mote of light floats above her glowing palm.

“I misjudged the brightness,” Maria says, looking guilty.

Lady Ascart continues to cling onto Katarina.

Katarina rolls her eyes as she turns back towards the scrawl, finding it in clear view. She brings a finger to her chin as she leans towards the writing.

“What does it say?” Maria asks.

Katarina squints at it. “It says… corruption… no, darkness… exclusion… collection? No, array. Darkness exclusion array!” There’s a pause as Katarina looks back at them, confusion etched on her features. “Wait, so it’s a giant light?”

Lady Ascart finally lets go of Katarina, cautiously taking a step closer to the writing. “I’m not sure that’s what it means, but I think your translation of the ancient script is correct.”

Katarina closes her eyes and crosses her arms as she tilts her nose into the air. “Well of course my—” She stops, eyes flying open. “Wait, what?”

“It’s odd, though,” says Maria, nodding as she cranes her head between their shoulders. “Not the typical rune for ‘darkness.’”

Katarina clutches her chest. “I… noticed that as well,” she mutters, before breaking out into a wide grin and nodding enthusiastically. “I mean, yes! I noticed that as well!”

Sophia squints. “It says ‘pylon 3’ on the line below. I wonder if that’s what this is.”

“I don’t know, probably.” She shrugs, once again scratching at her uniform. “Did Sirius tell either of you what we’re actually supposed to looking for during this inspection?”

They both turn to her.

“I know you came late, Lady Claes,” says Sophia, "but you didn’t ask him before you went to get changed?”

She shakes her head. “Gods no. He gives me the creeps.”

They both continue to stare at her.

“You mean Sirius?” says Maria, arching a brow.

“He keeps glaring at me!” Katarina replies. “Also, that smile of his is so obviously fake!”

Lady Ascart glances away. “He seems nice enough to me and Brother…”

“I have always known him to be a kind and thoughtful man, Lady Katarina,” adds Maria.

Katarina continues to scratch at the uniform. “A-Anyway, will one of you tell me what we’re supposed to be looking for?”

“He said we’re looking for a… mana crystal, I think,” says Lady Ascart.

“Or anything that’s glowing or moving,” Maria says, nodding. “If there is, we’re supposed to leave the ruins immediately and report it.”

A chill runs down her spine, and Katarina grimaces. “Doesn’t that sound a bit… ominous?”

Sophia curls in on herself and takes a step towards her. “H-He said it’d been a long time since there was anything like that, though.”

Katarina looks around the stone chamber with newfound apprehension. “I hope he’s right.”

They ascend to the upper floor of the pylon, making their way up a flight of stairs. A cool draft brushes against Katarina as beams of sunlight pour through cracks in the walls. A dull red crystal occupies the center of the room, hanging from metal conduits that feed into the black obsidian visible from the outside. Intricate patterns cover the surrounding walls. It takes her a few moments to realize they’re spell-circles of various shapes and sizes, containing a mix of familiar and unfamiliar runes.

“Wow…” says Maria, her golden hair catching a beam of sunlight as she looks up. “This is incredible…”

Katarina nods, eyes wide. “My Magical History professor said that magic was more advanced in pre-Sorciéran times, but…”

“It’s like an ancient relic from a fantasy story,” Says Sophia, her red eyes scanning the room. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

Katarina walks forward, eyes transfixed on the crystal. As she moves closer, she watches as her image is reflected on its dull surface. She stretches out her hand.

“Lady Claes!”

She shakes her head, hand hovering above the crystal’s surface. She turns to Sophia. “Eh?”

Sophia’s looking at her with wide eyes. “Um… I don’t think you should touch it.”

She blinks, looking between the Ascart and the crystal before withdrawing her hand and stepping away. “Pardon. I do not know what came over me.”

The Ascart shakes her head. “No, I think I feel it too. There’s… a pull. Like it’s sucking me in.”

Maria frowns. “Now that you mention it…”

The three of them all look towards the crystal, taking a cautious step back.

“Let’s just finish this inspection already,” says Katarina, wringing her hands.

Neither Sophia nor Maria objects.

Maria moves over to the other side of the room, looking over some crumbling stone obelisks surrounding the crystal. Katarina follows her example, looking over the matching set on her side of the room. Lady Ascart follows closely behind.

Katarina sighs, turning towards the white-haired noblewoman. “Okay. Why are you following me so closely?”

Her red-eyes widen, and she clasps her hands together. “A-Am I annoying you, Lady Claes?”

A part of her wants to say yes, but upon seeing the expression on the girl’s face, she relents. “I’m just curious why you’re clinging to me in particular.”

“I just feel comfortable around you,” she says, her eyes glancing nervously to the light mage across the room.

Katarina frowns, but remains silent.

“Oh!” Lady Ascart exclaims, before reaching to her side and sliding a brown leather book out of a pouch on her belt. “Here,” she says, smiling as she presents it to Katarina. “I meant to give you this earlier, but I forgot.”

Katarina takes the soft leather tome, gently looking it over in her hands. “Sophia and the Emerald Princess?” she asks, looking at the title.

Lady Ascart nods. “That way we’ll have something to talk about when we meet next weekend.”

Katarina stares at the book, a whirlpool of emotions swirling her chest. “I…” she says, hesitating to find the right words. “Thank you.”

The white-haired girl grins at her with her eyes closed.

For a moment Katarina is struck with an odd sense of déjà vu. It quickly passes, though. She slides the book into her own pouch, smiling at Lady Ascart. “I can’t say I’ll have much time to read it before then, but I’ll definitely try.”

The red-eyed girl’s smile falls slightly, but she nods in understanding. “I understand, with end of semester exams coming up.”

Katarina nods, before scratching at her uniform once again. “Hey, Maria!” she shouts. “I think we’re good here. Let’s head back.”

“One moment, Lady Katarina!” she shouts back. “Let me make absolutely sure we’re not missing anything.” The light mage closes her eyes, and her palms glow with magic, before it evaporates completely. She opens her eyes, looking at her hands. “That’s not right…”

Katarina walks closer. “What are you trying to do?”

She frowns. “I was trying to cast a detection spell, but it just… fizzled out.”

“Well, it obviously means there’s no magic here.”

She looks unsure. “I suppose…”

“Now come on!” Katarina says, a little more insistent this time. “I’m going to kill someone if I have to spend another minute in this uniform.”

A bit reluctantly, she makes her way to the stairway.

Katarina spares one last glance at the crystal before joining her, Lady Ascart following closely behind.

“I’m sorry to hear you’re upset, Lady Claes,” says Sirius, wearing his usual placid smile.

“Upset? Upset!” she shouts, gesturing wildly. “Do you know how uncomfortable wearing this has been?”

He nods. “I can only imagine.”

She pauses. Wait. That’s not his usual smile.

“Do not worry. I will take extra care to make sure this does not happen during the practical exam, Lady Claes.”

She frowns. “Actually, I would prefer it if mine was sent to my room ahead of time.”

His smile strains. “That’s highly irregular.”

Her eyes narrow. “Ah, I needn’t bother you with such a trivial thing. I will send a message to the sewing club myself.”

There’s a pause. “If you insist.”

She walks out of the council room without another word.

She’s not surprised when she catches a glimpse of him frowning behind her.

Chapter Text

“I’m surprised you even showed up,” says Alan, dropping his textbooks onto the library table.

Katarina looks up from her notebook, quill in hand. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He scoffs, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes as he stands behind the chair. Internally, Katarina sighs, realizing he’s clearly in one of his moods again. Who knew that the brother of Gerald would be so high-maintenance?

“Are you going to sit?”

He recoils back in shock before the frown re-asserts itself on his face as he glares at her. “Why should I?”

Katarina arches a brow, tilting her head in non-comprehension. “Because we’re allies?”

He snorts, rolling his eyes. “You sure have a funny way of showing it.”

Anger stirs within her, and she slams the quill down on the table, pushes back the wooden chair, and rises to her feet. “What is this about?”

“Stop playing dumb,” he says, glaring at her with narrowed eyes.

“I am serious,” she says, returning his glare in kind.

“Why do you need me,” Alan hisses, “when you’ve got your precious fiancée?”

The fire in her chest goes out with those words. Instead, Katarina just tilts her head in confusion. “What?”

He throws his arms into the air. “You were practically melting into his arms!”

“He is my fiancé! It is not any of your business what I do with him!” She growls. “Besides, why are you bringing this up now?”

“It’s not like I had any other choice!” he hisses, and Katarina can feel the heat radiating from his face.

“What are you even talking about?”

He slams the table. “You didn’t show up yesterday! I was here, alone!”

There’s a pause. Her eyes widen. “Oh.” she says, feeling the tension leave from her body. She takes a step back. “I see.”

Alan blinks at her, his expression instantaneously shifting from anger to confusion. “You do?”

She shakes her head. “So, you thought… because I…” She sighs, lowering herself back into the chair. “I’m sorry,” she says, looking at him earnestly. “I didn’t even realize.”

He looks at her cautiously, before pulling out his chair and sitting across from her. “It was an accident?”

“Gerald invited me to an… outing.” She shakes her head. “I spent a lot of time getting ready, and I forgot to explain.”

He continues to stare at her, seeming strangely… hopeful? “So, you still want to be allies? Even with Gerald on your side?”

“Even if we’re on…” she says, struggling to find the right words, “better terms, that man needs an ego check.”

“You’d go against your fiancé?”

She smirks. “I prefer to think of it as friendly competition.”

Alan looks at her, blue eyes wide even as a smile spreads across his face. “Gerald is still your rival, then?”

She snorts. “By your definition of ‘rival,’ I suppose.”

His smile doesn’t waver. “Well, then, ally. Let’s get to work.”

Alan snaps near her ear. “Hey, hey. Wake up.”

She growls at him as she lifts her face from the textbook, blinking away the tiredness from her eyes. “What?” she growls.

“You fell asleep,” he says.

“I am aware,” she says.

“Sleeping isn’t studying.”

“I am aware!” she repeats.

He looks offended. “Then why are you getting angry?”

She sighs, shaking her head. “Never-mind. Where were we?”

“Camille’s Theorem of Thaumic Resonance.”

She groans, holding her head.

“I know, I know, but I guarantee you this will be on the exam.”

“It will be on the exam,” she agrees with a sigh, nodding her head. “It was on it last time.”

“No, it wasn’t.” He tilts his head. “We hadn’t even covered it until last week.”

She glares at him. “Not the last exam, the last time.”

He snorts. “You’re really dedicated to this.”

She tilts her nose up at him. “Fine. Don’t believe me.” She smirks. “If I remember correctly, it’s one of the last questions on the exam.”

“That’s really vague.” His eyes narrow. “Am I supposed to find that convincing?”

“Whatever,” she replies, rolling her eyes. “It will be there.”

“Then you should write it down.”

She groans, looking down at the textbook as she reluctantly concedes his point. She copies down the equation, scrawling some notes below it listing what each symbol and term refers to.

“Excuse me,” says an unfamiliar voice.

She looks up from her paper, only to see a white-haired man in an academy staff uniform.

“The library is closing.”

She blinks. “It’s that late?” It’s only then, looking around the room, that she realizes she and Alan are the only students there.

The old man just stares at her.

“We’ll pack up,” says Alan.

The old man offers a curt nod before turning and walking away.

She turns to Alan, dropping her voice. “What a pleasant person.”

“He’s got guts, talking to a prince and a duke’s daughter like that,” he says, glaring past her. He relaxes as he turns to her. “Now hurry and pack up. I’ll walk you back.”

She moves to fold up her textbook before freezing and turning to him as the words properly register. “Eh?”

Katarina staggers down the dimly-lit path, eyes heavy as she clings onto Alan’s coat for balance.

“Wow,” he says, and from the tone of voice she can tell he’s rolling his eyes. “Did you get any sleep last night?”

She nods wearily. “A few horse- I mean, hours.”

“Clearly. You’re stumbling around like a village drunk.”

She looks up at him, pouting. “It’s hard to see!”

“Is that why you’re clawing at my coat?”

“It’s chilly!” she whines. She leans her head onto his chest and closes her eyes. “You’re warm.” There’s a long silence after that, and it takes Katarina a moment to realize what she’s just said. She quickly pushes away from him, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks. “Forgive my outburst.”

He nods, face turned away from her. It’s hard to tell in the dark, but she swears his cheek is pink.

There’s an awkward silence for the rest of the trip, which is thankfully short, as they soon arrive at the high-class dorms. Alan, somewhat unexpectedly, gets the door for her.

She smirks at him. “Playing the gentleman, are we?”

He rolls his eyes. “You can barely stand.”

She tilts her nose up at him, making an exaggerated dismissal as she walks through the doorway… and almost trips on her own dress. She staggers forwards, arms flailing, before miraculously regaining her balance. She hears laughing from behind her, turning to glare at the source.

Alan covers his mouth with his hand, chest convulsing as he barely stifles his laughter. She glares at him, but it only causes his composure to break completely, and he hunches over in the doorway, gripping himself as he chortles with glee. Clenching her fists, she turns around with an irritated groan, and heads toward her room.

The laughter cuts off, and there’s the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps as the door slams behind them. “Hey, where are you going?”

She turns around, closes her eyes, and sticks out her tongue at him.

“Oh yeah, very mature.”

Her eyes widen as she realizes what she just did. “Y-You’re the immature one!”

He catches up to her, leaning towards her with a smug grin. “Mhm. Proving my point there.”

She turns away from his taunting blue eyes as she stomps forwards, cheeks warm with embarrassment. “It’s only because you started it!”

“You just keep digging that hole deeper.”

She groans. “You're infuriating!”

“And you just passed your room.”

She stops, turns her head around, and realizes he’s right. Her cheeks burn as she reluctantly turns back towards the door. She’s just about to reach for the knocker when she feels his hand tap her shoulder.

She spins around to him. “What?”

He crosses his arms and glances away. “Thank you, by the way.”

She blinks, the tension leaving her body. “What do you mean?”

“For continuing to be my ally,” he sighs. “I thought that… since you’re with Gerald…”

She rolls her eyes. “Honestly, why do you want to be like Gerald anyway? I love that man, but even I’d go crazy if there were two of him.”

His eyes flit to her as he tilts his head. “Even if he’s your fiancé?”

She shakes her head. “Especially because he’s my fiancé.”

He raises a brow. “I don’t get it.”

“Then I’ll make it so simple even you can understand.” She looks him in the eyes as she places a hand on his shoulder. “Gerald is Gerald. It’s fine for Alan to just be Alan.”

He stares at her, mouth wide as an unfamiliar emotion fills his blue eyes. Then, for some reason, his cheeks turn pink and he glances away. “Saying something so sappy? That’s not like you at all, Katarina.”

She snorts, withdrawing her hand. “Yes, you’re clearly the expert of being me.”

There’s a long pause.

“You really mean that, though?” he eventually asks, glancing at her through his silver bangs. “What you said about me, I mean.”

She closes her eyes, holding out her hand as she speaks. “Do you think I’d spend time with you if I didn’t?”

“No. I suppose you wouldn’t,” he chuckles.

She opens her eyes, crossing her arms and glaring at him. “Then stop asking such stupid questions.”

He looks away and rubs the back of his head. “Sorry.”

Katarina rolls her eyes as he blushes again. Honestly, how easily embarrassed can someone get? “Well, at any rate, good night, Alan.”

He looks at her strangely as she knocks on the door to her room. “Good night, Katarina.”

Even after Anne opens the door and she walks inside, when she glances behind her, he’s still staring at her with the same expression on his face.

She gives him a little wave before closing the door.

“You came back late tonight, milady,” says Anne, looking at her strangely. “Is everything alright?”

She sighs, haphazardly tossing her pouch onto her desk, not caring that a few books and papers slide out. “Exam preparations. Lots of studying with Alan.”

“I see,” Anne says, continuing to look at her oddly even as she undoes her earrings and barrette. She then begins to help her out of her dress. “You are not worried that it may look like something else?”

“What? No. That’s ridiculous,” she scoffs, raising her hands as Anne slides the clothing over her head. “Alan’s just an ally.”

“I see,” Anne replies, moving to undo her corset. “Either way, it’s not my place to judge, my lady.”

She pauses, looking at her with wide eyes. “Your advice is always appreciated, Anne.”

The corners of her lips perk up, and she tilts her head forwards. “Thank you, my lady.” She helps her out of the remainder of her outfit, before slipping on her light blue nightgown and buttoning it for her. She bows lightly when it’s completed. “Have a good night, Katarina.”

Katarina takes a step forward and hugs her. Her companion immediately returns the embrace.

“Thank you, Anne,” she says, before letting go and smiling at her. “You’re dismissed.”

The maid nods at her, and begins to extinguish the candles around the room except that of her lamp. Finally, she opens the door, pausing in the doorway. “Sleep well, my lady.”

“Good night, Anne.”

There’s quiet click as the door closes behind her, and Katarina sighs as she moves toward the bed, eyes feeling heavy. However, as she leans down towards the bed and tugs on the sheets, she pauses, noticing something out of the corner of her eye: the copy of Sophia and the Emerald Princess, poking out of her bag on the desk.

She grabs the book, feeling the leather in her hands, before pulling over the covers, lying down in her bed, and tucking herself in. She then brings it to her face and looks at it curiously, opening the cover as she begins to read.

She’s only a couple of pages in before her eyes suddenly become very heavy. She closes them to blink, and immediately falls fast asleep.

Her resting form smiles at the ceiling, as the book rises and falls with her chest.

Chapter Text

Sunlight filters through the hallway as Keith returns from a delightful walk in the gardens with Lady Elodie. Already, he misses the feeling of a woman by his side, her heart beating against his as they stroll through the trees.

It never lasts, of course. They all want too much. It’s fun to play along, though, even if he suspects that may be the reason his reputation far outstrips his actual exploits. Not that he has any real interest in correcting those misconceptions.

A glimmer of lustrous golden hair catches his eye, poking above the throngs of students passing through the hall. He pauses, rising to his toes as he looks over the heads of the students (lest he suffer a repeat of that embarrassing encounter with Prince Gerald).

A smile crosses his face as he confirms it’s exactly who he wants to see. He slicks back his hair, takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and exhales and opens his eyes as he puts his game-face on. Time to turn on the old Keith charm.

He makes his way through the flow of students, the crowd thinning as he passes several emptying lecture halls. Maria is clearly in view now, standing in the middle of the hallway with her back facing him.

The light mage requires a… softer approach than he’s used to. Their first encounter, where he teased her with a date after recovering her handkerchief, ended with Maria outright running away in embarrassment. He knows the girl isn’t worth the trouble, yet he still finds himself coming back for more. Maria truly embodies her element’s radiance, far more than simply being easy on the eyes (though that certainly doesn’t hurt), and there’s something about being in her company that he finds incredibly appealing. Plus, he still has that handkerchief, and his offer still stands… though perhaps it will be wise to save that for a later attempt.

“Good day, Maria,” he says, putting on a winning smile.

The blonde maiden looks over her shoulder, before turning to face him. She smiles demurely as a thatched picnic basket hangs swings from her hands. “Good afternoon, Lord Keith.”

He tilts his head at the sight of the basket. “What’s that you’re carrying?”

“I made sweets!” Maria beams, raising the basket to her chest. “I was only planning to make a few, but I didn’t realize how much I missed baking them and…” she pauses, blushing as she glances away. “Well, I got a little carried away.”

He snorts, laughing at her embarrassed expression, which causes her to turn an even more vibrant shade of red.

“Y-You can have one if you’d like,” she stutters, not looking directly at him. Yet as she moves to open the basket, he gently grabs her chin, bringing him face to face with her beautiful azure eyes.

His voice drops into a sultry tone. “I’d rather have one of you, my Maria.”

She squeaks as she pulls away from him, looking incredibly dazed as she steadies herself against the wall with her free hand and mutters something about ‘running in the family’ underneath her breath.

Keith cocks his head. “Pardon?”

Her eyes widen as she looks up at him. “N-Nothing!”

He’s more than a little disappointed when she shakes her head and recovers almost immediately afterwards. Is she really that inured to him by now? Maybe he needs to turn up the charm.

“What are you doing over here anyway?” he says, flashing a winning playboy grin.

“I’m waiting for Lady Katarina!” she replies happily, her radiant smile handily trouncing his own.

His heart skips a beat before his mind is fully able to process her answer. When it finally does, the unpleasant realization throws cold water on the warmth blooming within his chest. “Katarina,” he repeats blankly, nodding as if it makes perfect sense. “You’re here to see Katarina.”

Every time he expects to wake from the surreal dream, something intervenes to remind him he’s still in it. None of it makes sense. The whole scenario is beyond unreal. Every detail of it is something that should not exist. That cannot exist. Katarina would never condescend to associate with a commoner, much less befriend one.

How has it even happened? Before he had left, Katarina could barely hide her contempt for the girl. Yet a little more than a weekend later, the two of them arrive at the council meeting smiling at each other and on a first-name basis. It’s as if the world had been flipped upside-down while he wasn’t looking.

“Lord Keith?” Maria says, rousing him from his thoughts. She looks at him with concern. “I’m sorry, should I not have—?”

“No, it’s fine,” he sighs, shaking his head. “I just… don’t understand. She hates you.”

Maria shakes her head, frowning slightly. “I don’t think Lady Katarina ever hated me. She was cold to me for a while, but considering the circumstances…” she pauses, looking at her feet. When her head pops up a moment later, she’s all smiles again. “Besides, I think we’ve finally become friends!”

He looks at her as though she’s sprouted another head. “Friends. With Katarina.”

“She’s really not as bad as they say. Just… lonely.” She smiles at him. “A lot like you, actually.”

His body tenses. “Do not compare me to her.”

Maria’s smile falls. “Why are the two of you at each other’s throats? You’re really not that different.”

His eyes narrow. “You’re joking, right?”

“I’m serious!” Maria protests, the basket swinging in her hands. “Lady Katarina might seem prickly at first, but deep down, she’s a good person.”

He crosses his arms. “You only say that because you don’t know what she did to me.”

Her brow furrows. “Lord Keith?”

Before either of them can exchange another word, however, the door to the classroom beside them opens and a flood of students begin pouring out.

A wide smile spreads across the light mage’s face. His heart skips a beat, but as he follows the path of her azure eyes, he quickly realizes it’s not directed at him. Her lips move, but words that should not be emerge from them. “How’d the exam go, Lady Katarina?”

Keith grits his teeth as his so-called ‘sister’ emerges from the crowd and flashes a grin at the light mage.

“It was nothing I hadn’t seen before,” Katarina replies mirthfully. The smile disappears from her face when the two Claes siblings lock eyes. “Keith? What’s going on here?”

“I just wanted to check on our resident flower,” he replies, leaning towards the light mage’s face. “See if she needs any watering.”

Maria looks down at the floor to hide her iridescent blush.

Katarina’s expression darkens. “Typical.”

“Pardon?” he says, craning his head to glare at her as an ugly smile crosses his face.

“Your actions bring dishonor to our family name,” Katarina growls, crossing her arms and returning his glare in kind. “Though I suppose you have no reason to care about that.”

“Yes,” he replies. “Just as I suppose you have every reason to suddenly be best friends with the girl you couldn’t stand a few days ago.”

“You—!” she exclaims, lurching forward, only to glance at Maria and catch herself. Taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes. When she opens them again, they’re cold as ice. “You should not comment on things you know nothing about.”

He snorts. “Your act can’t last forever, Katarina. I know what kind of person you really are.”

She closes her eyes again. “Believe as you wish,” she replies, clearly struggling to keep her voice under control. She glances towards the light mage, expression immediately softening as the two lock eyes. “I will catch up with you later, Maria.” She shoots him a sidelong glare. “It would be rude of me to interrupt.”

Her boots clack against the hallway floor as she turns and walks away. The crowd that’s formed around the three of them parts to let her through, its members trying (and failing) to pretend they haven’t been listening in. A strange expression crosses Maria’s face as her head swivels to follow the lady, and she clutches the basket tightly to her chest.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he says once Katarina’s out of earshot, though it’s more for Maria’s sake than anything else.

The light mage continues looking down the hall, before sighing softly. When she turns back to Keith, she’s painted on a smile. “No, it’s okay,” she says softly, glancing down at the basket. “I’ll just give them to her later.”

His thoughts shatter like glass. “Pardon?”

“I made these for her,” the light mage says, the basket rocking below her arms as she sighs wistfully and looks down the hall. “I wanted to thank her for everything she’s done for me.”

He steadies his breathing. What on Earth is going on? Why is Maria speaking so highly of her? Why is Maria baking sweets for her?

“I don’t know what woman you’re describing, but it isn’t Katarina,” he growls. “As far as I’m concerned, the world would be a better place without her in it.”

The light mage is silent for a while after that, an inscrutable expression on her face. After several moments, an even more pained smile dons her features. “I… I need to go,” she says, voice uneven.

“Maria?”

“I-It was nice talking to you, Lord Keith,” she stutters, not looking him in the eyes. She bows to him, the basket swinging in her hands, before turning and running down the hallway before he can say another word, her boots clacking loudly with each step.

As Keith watches her disappear down the hall, something stirs within him. He’s been putting it off far too long.

He walks back towards his dorm room, withdrawing a pouch from his pocket as he steps through the doorway and closes it behind him.

He opens the pouch, letting it contents fall onto his desk. He coughs slightly as the smell of burnt wood fills the air. The ashes collect into a pile, tiny scraps of burnt paper visible within.

He sits down at his desk, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath as he begins to cast the restoration spell.

Little by little, the pile of ash reconstitutes itself into a student council form.

Chapter Text

“Hey, Katarina?” a male voice shouts. “Katarina!”

The annoying voice snaps Katarina out of her thoughts. She sighs and stops walking as she prepares for the fourth prince to accost her.

“What?” she hisses, glaring over her shoulder at him.

Alan’s blue eyes crinkle in confusion as he freezes in place. She turns her head away and tilts up her nose, satisfied that her intimidating stare has convinced him to not bother her with whatever useless triviality he originally planned to share. Not even a moment later, she flinches as his firm hand grasps her shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

She groans. Of course he manages to pick up on her feelings the one time she actually wants him to go away.

“I am fine,” she replies, keeping her voice level. “I am merely going out for a stroll in the gardens.

“Yeah, I don’t buy it,” he replies. “That was the classic Katarina stomp.”

She spins around to face him, brow furrowing in confusion. “The ‘Katarina stomp?’”

“Yeah. When you get all angry you do this.” He then proceeds to cross his arms and make exaggerated stomping motions as he marches in place in front of her.

Katarina’s cheeks flush red. “I-I do not!”

Thankfully, he stops before replying, “You do. Constantly.”

Several nearby students can be seen barely suppressing chuckles, but they quickly go rigid beneath her glare. Turning her attention back to Alan, she retorts. “W-Well, you do too!”

The silver-haired prince tilts his head skeptically. “Really? That’s the best you can come up with?”

“I’m serious!” she protests.

“Mhm. Sure,” he drawls, rolling his eyes. His eyes flit back to her before she has a chance to retort. “So, are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”

“You are… infuriating,” she sighs, her entire body deflating in defeat. “Look, I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

“Was it the exam?”

“What? No!” she exclaims, jolting up to face him. “I am certainly going to place above you!”

“We’ll see about that,” Alan retorts, a smirk crossing his lips, “but it’s good to see you haven’t lost your competitive spirit.”

She glares at him. “Are you finished mocking me?”

“Well, that depends,” he replies. “Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”

“Fine!” she spits. “Keith.”

“Oh,” he says, glancing away. “I see.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, so if it’s all the same I’d rather—"

“Actually, why don’t you come with me?” he says. “I’ve actually got something that might cheer you up.”

“Pardon?” Katarina replies. “What on Earth are you talking about?”

“Well, it’s not really finished yet, but I’ve been working on a piece of music.” He glances away, pink spreading across his cheeks. “I don’t know why, but I’ve been feeling really inspired around you lately, so I want you to hear it.”

She almost gapes, a well of emotions twisting inside her chest. “Are you joking?”

The fourth prince looks down at the floor, gently kicking it like a scolded child. “It’s fine if you don’t want to hear it.”

Katarina shakes her head. “No, it’s not that! I’m just… confused.”

He blinks. “About what?”

She's quiet for a moment.  “Never-mind. I suppose I would—”

“Pardon my interruption, but I’ve been patiently waiting for an opportunity to speak to my fiancé.”

Both prince and lady turn to its source, finding Lady Hunt standing in the hallway next to them, holding an elegant orange fan up to her face. In one smooth motion the Marquis’ daughter collapses the fan and steps forward, immediately inserting herself between the prince and brunette.

“It is good to see you getting along so well with Lady Claes,” says Lady Hunt, a smile on her lips. “I was wondering where you’d run off to.”

“Oh, lunch! Yeah, sorry about that,” replies Alan, rubbing the back of his head. “I came to talk to her about the exams, but—”

“Oh, you needn’t regale me of your conversation,” she replies. “I heard the whole thing.”

There’s an odd edge to her voice as she turns to glance at Katarina, and for a moment the duke’s daughter swears she sees something very dark in Lady Hunt’s auburn eyes.

“Nonetheless, misunderstandings happen, so it would be prudent of me to make sure all parties are on the same page. Lady Claes, I do not believe we have been formally introduced. My name is Mary Hunt, fourth daughter of Marquis Hunt and fiancée to Prince Alan Stuart.”

Katarina can’t help but notice the outsized emphasis the copper-haired noblewoman places on the word ‘fiancée.’ Yet as Lady Hunt begins to curtsy, Katarina’s thoughts drift to the lady herself.

Despite encountering her several times before, their previous run-ins have mostly taken place at a distance, so this is the first time Katarina has gotten a good look at the Marquis’s daughter up close. Immediately, Katarina cannot help but be impressed by the clear effort Lady Hunt puts into her appearance. Her long hair is adorned by an orange bow shaped as a rose, partially concealing a pearl-studded hair clip holding her bangs out of her coppery eyes. Two flower-shaped earrings hang below her ears, while another pearl sits at the front of the yellow necklace wrapping around her neck. Her dress—

Her… dress…

What on Earth is that neckline? Is that even allowed?

“Lady Claes,” repeats the Marquis’ daughter, a hard edge entering her pleasant voice.

Katarina’s eyes widen slightly, and she immediately glances back up to Lady Hunt’s face, an odd warmth in her cheeks. The marquis’ daughter regards her skeptically before shaking her head, lips pursing into a straight line.

“Ah, p-pardon,” Katarina replies, trying to keep her voice even as she drops into a curtsy. “My name is Lady Katarina Claes, d-daughter of Duke Claes and fiancée of Prince G-Gerald. Nice to meet you.”

It’s a pale imitation of Lady Hunt’s elegant greeting, and she knows it. Gods, is she cursed? First Maria, now her? How is she supposed to stand out when the competition is this stiff!?

“It’s good to see you having such a great time with my fiancé,” Lady Hunt chirps, though there’s something still off about her tone. “Tell me, has Prince Gerald not proven sufficient?”

Katarina blinks, not quite understanding. “Prince Gerald is fine. I don’t see how that’s related to the topic at hand.”

“Yeah, Katarina said it herself the other day,” adds Alan. “Gerald is Gerald, and Alan is Alan.”

Lady Hunt closes her eyes as a pleasant grin spreads across her face. “Of course! Two different men engaged to two different women!”

Now Katarina is certain something is off. She recognizes the smile playing across Lady Hunt’s lips: It’s transparently fake. “Is something the matter, Lady Hunt?”

“I do not quite know, Lady Claes,” she says, saccharine tone tinged with something dark. “Is there?”

“Would you be blunt?” Katarina growls, finally losing her patience at the woman’s inexplicable hostility. “I do not have all day.”

There’s a long pause as the two face each other. Truthfully, Lady Hunt’s apparent dislike vexes Katarina. As far as she can recall, she has never even spoken to the woman until their brief encounter in the gardens. Indeed, when she was younger, Katarina was quite eager to meet her future brother-in-law’s fiancée, and had written many letters inviting her over for tea. Lady Hunt would always reply and politely state her unavailability. It was only after several months of trying that Katarina realized the sheer unlikeliness of not one of her proposed meeting times aligning with Lady Hunt’s schedule. Her letters had been so eloquent and convincing that the thought the lady was simply humoring her never crossed her mind.

“Alan!” Mary suddenly cries out, eyes flying open. “Would you allow me to hear this piece as well? It’s been far too long since I’ve witnessed some of your work!”

“Huh?” he exclaims, blue eyes widening slightly. “Oh, sure. I can show it to you later, Mary.”

“Nonsense!” the marquis’ daughter chirps happily. “Why not now?”

The fourth prince glances away, an uncertain expression on his face as he runs his hand through his silvery hair. “Well, I’m not sure you’d like it…”

“I am certain I would enjoy anything you’d be willing to show such a high-class lady!”

Her tone doesn’t change, yet it somehow still sounds sarcastic. Is she just imagining it?

He crosses his arms as he leans against the wall and sighs. “Fine. But don’t get mad at me when it doesn’t live up to your expectations.”

In the midst of the fourth prince’s performance, Katarina picks up the pieces of her shattered expectations. Truthfully, she hadn’t expected much. Oh, she was certain he could play well – just about any noble with two hands and ten fingers can play at least one instrument – but most nobles are, to put it bluntly, not of the musical persuasion. Thus, when Alan confidently declared that he’d not even come up with the title for his unfinished piece, Katarina plastered on a smile and prepared for the worst.

Now, she gapes at the silver-haired prince as her heart pounds to the notes still echoing through the room. Her cheeks burn with an emotion she cannot quite place, but eventually decides is admiration. She glances over to her left to see Lady Hunt’s cheeks are also a bright pink. The Marquis’ daughter stares at the prince with a smile on her face, half-lidded eyes filled with desire. Katarina clutches her heart as the strange feeling intensifies.

Yes, it must be admiration. Such a loving relationship is something to be treasured. One day, Gerald will look at her that way as well.

As the last of the notes echoes into the room and fade into nothingness, Alan sighs and shakes his head. “Look, I know it wasn’t great, but it’s not done yet, so don’t get mad at me—”

“Incredible,” Katarina whispers, shaking her head. “Absolutely incredible.”

“Huh?” replies Alan, eyes flying open. “You really think so?”

“Alan, your melodies always sooth my heart,” sniffles Lady Hunt, withdrawing a handkerchief from her dress as she wipes a tear. “I wish you would share them with me more often.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t want to subject you to some half-finished piece of work.”

She gently folds the handkerchief before stuffing it away, shaking her head gently all the while. “I really did enjoy it, Alan.”

“Well, I’m glad it worked out this time,” he says, blushing slightly as he scratches the back of his head, “but I really wanted Katarina to hear it.”

The Marquis’ daughter immediately stiffens. “Oh?”

“Well, I don’t know,” he sighs, shrugging. “It just feels like something she’d like.”

“I did. Thank you, Alan,” Katarina replies, a light feeling in her chest as she smiles at the fourth prince. “I’m glad I got to hear something so amazing.”

The fourth prince stares at her as his cheeks turn an even more vibrant red. After a moment, he glances away. “Y-Yeah. N-No problem.”

Katarina jumps as she feels a soft hand on her shoulder. As she turns to face it, Lady Hunt’s eyes bore into her with a surprising intensity. “Lady Claes, I just remembered something important. One of the professors was asking for you earlier. Something about your exam scores.”

“Eh?” Katarina exclaims, momentarily losing her composure. “I mean, p-pardon?”

“That’s right,” she replies, eyes narrowing in determination. “I didn’t catch all of it, but it sounded serious. You should go talk to them.”

“W-Wait,” Katarina stutters, taken aback by her sudden forcefulness. “Why would they want to talk about my exams?”

The Marquis’ daughter shrugs. “Perhaps there were abnormalities? You should hurry up and check up on them.”

Abnormalities? How? It’s not like she's cheating… technically. Okay, maybe knowing the questions ahead of time does give her a huge advantage, and maybe her vague recollection of the correct answers compounds it further, but it’s not like she doesn’t still have to study for them! She actually studies really hard! Besides, how would anyone ever know? It’s impossible to check… right?

“Hey, that reminds me!” Alan says, hopping off the piano chair. “How did you know that question was going to be on the last part of the exam?”

Mary’s eyes widen slightly, but she quickly recovers. “Oh my. You’d better leave Prince Alan to me, Lady Claes,” she states, voice dropping slightly. “We wouldn’t want any misconceptions spreading.”

Katarina nods quickly. “U-Understood. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Lady Hunt!”

A surprisingly genuine smile crosses her face. “I’m glad we’ve finally reached an understanding. Take care!”

Katarina arches a brow at the woman’s strange statement, but decides she doesn’t have time to question it. Instead, she simply nods at the two of them before running out of the room, hitching up her dress as she nearly trips in the doorway. She’s still not quite certain what to make of Lady Hunt. Why was she so hostile towards her, only to help out in the end?

She’ll have to ask Alan the next time they meet.

Chapter Text

Katarina is absolutely certain what to make of Lady Hunt, and it consists of words unsuitable for use in polite company. Her stomach rumbles as she walks through the hallway, lunch having been a casualty of the fool's errand the marquis’ daughter had sent her on. There were no abnormalities with her exam. It wasn’t even graded yet! How could it have been, considering she’d only taken it earlier that day? No, Lady Hunt just made up an excuse to get her away, and she had been dumb enough to fall for it.

What is her issue, anyway? As far as Katarina is aware, she’s done absolutely nothing to earn such unwavering hostility from Lady Hunt. To treat her kindness like this… is the elegant lady hiding a secret dark side? Perhaps that’s why Alan seems to take every excuse to spend time with herself instead.

She shakes her head as her footsteps echo through the now considerably-emptier halls of the academy, more staff and servants walking around than students. Since the exams are over, most of them have left or are in their dorms preparing to do so. If her council duties were not keeping her, Katarina would be among them. The day may be shortened, but it’s a little irritating to know her responsibilities are delaying her summer break, if only by a little.

She rounds the corner with a huff, stepping into the dining hall. The scent of food instantly fills her nostrils, but it’s stale. Her face twists at the thought of eating cold leftovers, and she briefly considers going without it, but if there’s one thing that displeases her more than eating scraps, it’s spending the trip to Claes Manor on an empty stomach.

There are a few students here, sitting among the servants going over the many unoccupied tables. Perhaps if she asks the kitchen staff nicely, or if that fails, hisses a few thinly-veiled threats, she can scrounge together something half-decent in the little time she has left.

Set on her course of action, Katarina nods as she strides across the near-deserted dining hall, only to almost loose her footing as her dress catches. She spins around in a huff, looking for the culprit, only to see a black-haired noblewoman shrink back in fear.

“Sorry,” says Mirabelle. “I called for you, but it didn’t seem like you heard me.”

Katarina closes her eyes and sighs, trying her best to keep her mounting frustration from boiling over. Mirabelle remains loyal to her. She’s the only one of those traitors to remain loyal to her. That’s worth a little tolerance, even if the baron’s daughter seems more motivated by her guilt towards Maria than anything else.

Opening her eyes again, Katarina fixes the fire mage with a cold gaze. “What is it?”

Mirabelle flashes a weak smile. “You didn’t show up at lunch today, and Maria had to get ready for the council meeting, so I told her I’d wait for you.”

Katarina’s eyes widen slightly, and for the first time she notices the pristine and untouched (if undoubtedly cold) entrée on the tablecloth. “You saved me something to eat?”

The fire mage’s orange eyes brighten at the hint of approval in Katarina’s voice. “You never miss lunch, and Maria told me that she wasn’t sure where you’d gone off to, so I decided to wait.”

Katarina blinks in surprise. “That’s very kind of you, Mirabelle.”

“Please, have a seat.” She gestures to the empty chair.

Katarina grasps the wooden chair gently, sliding it out and lowering herself onto the soft velvet cushion. Then, with impeccable form, she slides underneath the tablecloth, taking her napkin and silverware and preparing to eat like a proper noblewoman. After all, being in a rush isn’t an excuse to act like a savage.

Mirabelle giggles softly, and Katarina turns to glare at her. “What are you laughing at?”

“Pardon me, Lady Claes,” she begins, “but seeing you put so much effort into proper manners just reminds me of how Maria’s been acting ever since you pointed out she was consuming her soup incorrectly.”

Katarina raises a brow. “That was some time ago, though. We’ve eaten together since then.”

Mirabelle politely raises her hand to her mouth as she stifles another giggle. “My word, Lady Claes. Have you really not noticed?”

“Just get on with it.”

“She’s been staring at your actions and mimicking them,” Mirabelle explains. “I think she was at a bit of a loss when you didn’t show up today, actually. It felt like a half-hour passed before she even picked up a utensil.”

Katarina pauses mid-bite, before swallowing the cold lump of meat and grimacing slightly. “I do not know how to feel about that.”

“I think she just looks up to you, Lady Claes,” the fire mage replies. “It isn’t anything bad.”

Katarina sighs, placing down her silverware as she turns to the black-haired noblewoman. “It’s always ‘Maria this’ and ‘Maria that’ with you, isn’t it? I do not mind talking about her, but can you not choose another avenue of discussion every once in a while?”

Mirabelle’s lips purse, and she glances down at her lap. “Sorry, it’s just… I don’t really have much else to talk about.”

“What on Earth do you mean?”

For several moments, the sounds of distant silverware and plates fill the air. Then, in a surprisingly soft voice, Mirabelle speaks. “You’re not the only one that got left behind.”

Katarina turns back to her meal. “I see.”

“Really, Lady Claes, I’m jealous,” Mirabelle admits. “You’ve become such good friends with her in such a short amount of time. Me?” She sighs. “She’s been very kind to even spend time with me after what I did, but I wouldn’t call the two of us friends. Not really.”

Katarina grimaces at her odd choice of words as she once again cuts into the steak. “I wouldn’t call us friends, per se…”

“Are you kidding?” The fire mage’s head shoots up. “She’s easily as close to you as Lady Nelson ever was!”

“Lady Nelson is not my friend!”

“She was, though!” Mirabelle says. “She thought very highly of you, Lady Claes!”

“Clearly not!” the brunette yells. “If she really did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation!”

As her voice echoes through the hall, it’s replaced by the sound of her knife scraping against the plate. Not even bothering to look over her shoulder to look at the inevitable onlookers, Katarina drops her silverware and buries her face in her palms, heedless of manners or decorum, and sighs deeply.

“I’m sorry for bringing her up,” Mirabelle says eventually. “All I wanted to say is that I’ve never really had someone like that. I miss the relationships I had with people like Lady Serra, Lady Sienna, and Lady Bethany, but… it wasn’t really friendship, I guess. Not really.”

“No,” Katarina replies. “It wasn’t.”

There’s another long silence.

“I miss them too.” It’s almost a whisper. “Not just Sienna, either.”

No words are exchanged, and no tears are shed. Yet Katarina cannot help but reminisce.

“Mirabelle, do you remember that time Bethany dragged all of us to one of her tea parties, and Eris ended up having an allergic reaction to the tea?” She tries to hide her smile as she recalls the stone-faced woman conducting her discussion as usual, completely ignorant of the red spots spreading across her face.

Mirabelle, however, simply stares.

“What?” Katarina pouts. “It only gave her a rash!”

“Lady Claes,” the fire mage begins. “What are you talking about?”

“The tea party!” Katarina insists. “The one we had over sum—”

The table falls quiet once more, and her face sinks as she turns to her food.

“Never-mind,” she mutters. “Pardon my confusion.”

This time, the conversation doesn’t restart. Instead, the two of them remain in silence as Katarina’s thoughts drift to acquaintances lost, and a road not taken.

It’s strange. She absolutely hates Serra’s long-winded rants, yet she can’t help but wonder who or what the vain socialite has decided is the target of her ire today. Bethany’s tea parties are dull beyond belief, yet she finds herself wishing she’d once again receive an invitation. Eris is stern, strict, and far too full of herself, yet she finds herself wondering what the contents of her next ranting lecture will be.

It’s especially odd because she knows they’re not friends – they were never friends, even then – yet she finds herself missing them anyway; feeling nostalgia for a time when her life was so much simpler. Back then, they were all her loyal soldiers in her war against that harlot, Sienna standing by her side as her faithful lieutenant. It was a life where she had absolute faith she would triumph over that despicable peasant, and where she knew with absolute confidence that Gerald would kiss her on the altar and make her his queen.

She supposes that’s the thing about nostalgia: The time you long for never truly existed.

Everything is so much more complicated now. Her new life is so strange and unfamiliar. What is the same in this world? What is different? How can she be sure of anything in a place where her greatest enemy is one of her closest allies, and one of her closest allies is her greatest enemy?

Katarina’s silverware clinks against the plate as she swallows the last of her meal. “The truth is, Mirabelle,” she sighs, “I really don’t know how this happened.”

The fire mage’s eyes flit to hers. “What do you mean, Lady Claes?”

“You, Maria, Sienna,” she says, shaking her head. “It’s all so confusing. None of it makes sense to me.”

Mirabelle nods weakly, eyes returning to the empty tablecloth in front of her. “I see.”

“But, frankly, if Maria’s already willing to forgive your rank stupidity—”

The fire mage glances down to her open hand and grimaces.

“—then you probably don’t have much to worry about.”

At that moment, distant bells ring out across the campus as the clock chimes the hour. Katarina’s eyes widen, and she almost tears her dress as she leaps up from her chair. “I’m late!”

“Late?” says Mirabelle, rising to meet her.

“Council meeting!” she replies. “I’ve got to go!”

Quickly muttering a goodbye, she takes off down the hallway.

As she pushes open the door and steps through into the council chamber, she’s immediately aware something’s off when all the councilmembers turn to her.

“Ah, Lady Katarina! You’re just in time,” says Sirius, rising from his chair. “Please come in. I believe we have something to discuss.”

She glances across the room, and for the briefest of moments, her gaze meets Keith’s. A shiver runs down her spine. She’d been expecting the increasingly typical anger in Keith’s eyes.

She’d not expected glee.

Katarina nods blankly, ice crawling up her spine as she heads to her seat.

As the door shuts behind her, Sirius rises from his desk. “It has come to my attention that one of our members has been accused of serious misconduct,” begins Sirius. “I had hoped we would not need to have this conversation, but I suppose it is understandable. Some of you are evidently unfamiliar with the duties and responsibilities expected of the position.”

Sirius is too kind to look at her while making the statement. It is still all-too-clear who he is referring to.

The atmosphere inside the student council chamber is suffocating. The only noise is Sirius’s quiet footsteps as he paces around the table. Katarina focuses on the grain of the wood. She knows that if she looks up, she’ll see the judgmental eyes of the other members.

“The alleged misbehavior represents a serious abuse of council duties.” A pause. “It should be clear to everyone here that utilizing their position as a weapon against others is utterly unacceptable.”

What has happened? What is this about? It seems quite unlikely the council president is referring to anyone but her. Yet she has covered her tracks! And she hadn’t done anything that bad to begin with!

“Mister President, with all due respect,” says Nicol, “can we please hear the identity of the accused and the charges against them?”

“Very well,” sighs Sirius.

Katarina closes her eyes as she realizes. Of course. There’s only one thing it can be. Why would it come out now? She’s not sure how Keith managed to get Sirius to go along with it – she’s certain that letter of hers didn’t break any rules – but how on Earth is she going to explain?

“Lady Claes has been accused of destroying council documents.”

Her eyes fly open as she looks up, confused. “Pardon?”

For the briefest of moments, Sirius frowns. The neutral expression returns immediately after, as he leans over and picks up a sheet of paper from in front of his empty seat. “These are the recovered forms of several council requests. An anonymous source alleges you attempted to destroy them.”

Katarina blinks. “Wait. That’s it?”

“Pardon me, Lady Claes?”

She points at the stack of paper. “This is just about some council forms?”

“This is a very serious accusation, Lady Claes.” He spreads the paper in his hands. “This one appears to have been filled out by Sienna Nelson.”

“I filled out a form from Sienna?” She blinks again. “Er, pardon. Lady Nelson.”

The council president stares. “So, you deny the allegations?”

“Well, I certainly don’t remember it.” She glances away. “All that paperwork blurs together after a while…”

There’s some muffled laughter from Alan, which earns him a glare from the president.

“You were responsible for managing council request forms the week these were filled out,” Keith interjects. “They must be yours.”

He’s probably right, considering the relation to Lady Nelson. She thinks back, trying to recall her council activities. Suddenly, her eyes widen. Wait… these are the forms she burnt!

“How would you even get these?” she asks. “Were you in my dorm room?”

Then, she remembers. The earthen key on the Manor floor. The rush to get home in time. The blocked bridge. The unexpected encounter that followed. The uncertainty after her return.

She slams her hands on the table. “You were in my dorm room!”

Keith crosses his arms as he glares at her. No other response is forthcoming.

“So, you admit these are real?” Sirius asks, a strange expression on his face.

She opens her mouth to respond, but suddenly halts. Would that admission not lend credence to her so-called brother’s allegations? What should she say?

Keith tsks. “Look at her. Her guilt is written all over her face.”

She glares at him. “Yes, because I should be punished for documents you broke into my room to retrieve.”

That causes a stir among the assembled council members, Sirius included. All eyes turn to Keith.

He makes a dismissive gesture. “I have no idea what she’s talking about.”

Katarina grins as she realizes she’s trapped him. Then, quickly, she adopts a neutral expression. “Then how did you come into possession of these documents, Keith?”

His dark blue eyes widen as he realizes his mistake.

“So even if these allegations against my fiancée are true, Lord Claes would be guilty of even more serious misconduct,” Gerald interjects, turning to her with a princely smile. “Isn’t that right, Katarina?”

She nods, too transfixed by the glint of approval in his eyes to think of anything to say.

“Prince Gerald,” Sirius interjects, frowning slightly. “Leading questions are frowned upon during these proceedings.”

Keith’s response has no such tact. “You too?”

The third prince doesn’t falter. “Furthermore, what evidence is there that these documents were destroyed? I find it more likely that Katarina simply forgot about them, as she is wont to do.”

She grits her teeth as more murmurs of approval come from the other council members. The gall! If they were not currently speaking in her defense, she would certainly give them a piece of her mind!

“The documents were ash,” Keith hisses. “I had to reconstruct them using a restoration spell. If you wish to examine them, you will feel my aura on them.”

“Yes, thank you for outing yourself, Lord Claes,” Sirius mutters, holding a palm to his forehead. “It’s not like there’s a procedure for this sort of thing…”

Maria holds up a finger. “That doesn’t prove they were destroyed by Lady Katarina. There are methods a mage can use to remove or alter their magic signature.” Her cheeks flush as she suddenly realizes all eyes are locked on her, and she begins wringing her hands. “They’re, ah, obscure, but they exist.”

“Well, it’s also not a guarantee that Katarina destroyed the documents,” Alan adds, leaning forward in his seat. “Even if a restoration spell was used, someone else could’ve damaged them.”

“A very good point, Alan,” Gerald says, earning a surprised look from his brother. “Yes, the most we can prove is that Katarina misplaced the forms.” His grin widens as he turns to Sirius. “I find it highly unbecoming of this council to devote so much time and effort to such a trivial offense – if it even occurred. Would not a warning suffice?”

Keith’s jaw drops as the majority of council members murmur in agreement. Katarina can’t contain her own surprise much better.

“Council bylaws dictate that the destruction of official documents is a major offence,” Sirius replies, shrugging. “I am merely doing my job as president by investigating such accusations.”

“Perhaps the bylaws can be changed?” Gerald counters, looking across the table. “Surely some leniency is warranted for inexperience?”

“I-I agree with Prince Gerald!” Lady Ascart suddenly states. “E-Especially considering my brother and Lord Dieke are the only returning members…”

The president winces. “Please Lady Ascart, I’ve told you to just call me Sirius…”

“She’s right, though!” Maria calls out, voice even louder. “Even if what Lord Keith said is true, I don’t think Lady Katarina should be punished so harshly for it!” She glances to Keith, and then looks away. “And if Lady Katarina is punished… then Lord Keith should be as well.”

Keith stares at the blonde in confusion. “Maria?”

The light mage doesn’t meet his gaze. “Please, Lord Keith. This isn’t necessary.”

“Besides, it’s only fair,” Alan replies, shrugging. “If what you’re both saying is true, then you did something much worse than Katarina did.”

Keith’s gaze sweeps across the table, eyes pleading for support. Only Nicol meets his gaze, and even then, only for a moment.

Katarina just stares. What on Earth is going on? First Gerald, then Sophia, Maria, and Alan? Have they coordinated this beforehand? Is there some kind of plan she’s not aware of?

Sirius remains stoic. “Ethical considerations dictate that disciplinary rule changes cannot be applied retroactively. That, and the council charter.”

“Oh? What a shame,” replies Gerald in mock surprise. He crosses his arms as he reclines in his chair, a confident grin adorning his sharp features. “I suppose it’s unnecessary either way, since Lord Claes has yet to provide any actual evidence for his accusations.”

“It’s obvious to me that Katarina has a grudge against these girls,” Keith says, eyes narrowing. He glances to Sirius. “If we bring one of them here to give testimony, I’m sure they’ll agree with me.”

“You have not even gathered testimony for your accusations, Lord Claes?” the eldest Ascart asks. He sounds surprised. Or at least, Katarina thinks he sounds surprised. It’s always hard to tell with him. His expression and tone have barely changed.

Keith uncrosses his arms as he glances over to him. “Well, I—”

“Besides,” Gerald interjects, “even if we were to do what you ask, Lord Claes, all that would prove is these woman think Katarina targeted them.” He sweeps a hand across the seated councilmembers. “With no evidence of the documents’ destruction, there’s no reason we should assume this was some sort of attack.”

Alan closes his eyes and nods. “Never attribute to malice what can adequately be explained by stu— Ow!” His eyes fly open as something thumps beneath the table.

Katarina glares at him as she shifts in her seat, privately daring him to finish that sentence.

Keith points at her. “See! She just attacked another councilmember! She needs to be removed!”

Alan rolls his eyes as he falls back into the cushion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lord Claes,” he drawls. “I just stubbed my toe on the table leg.”

The Claes heir grunts in disbelief as he gestures at Katarina with both arms. “She kicked you! I saw it!”

Alan’s eyes narrow. “Again. No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Lord Keith, why are you trying so hard to get Lady Katarina in trouble?” Maria asks, clutching her hands against her chest as she looks at him with a pleading expression. “I mean, I know you have your… differences, but can’t you just let this go?” She glances down at her lap. “I really don’t want to see either one of you get in trouble…”

Katarina sighs, shaking her head. As touching as the sentiment is, the light mage is as hopelessly naïve as ever.

“Why are all of you protecting her?” Keith suddenly shouts, throwing his arms up in frustration. “She’s nasty, arrogant, and selfish! I, for one, would welcome not having to deal with her on a daily basis!”

Anger twists within Katarina. Even though she expected this, the outburst still irks her. That little brat! Does he not understand he is not the only one suffering here? It is not as if she wishes to spend time with him either!

“Then you can leave,” Gerald replies, rising to his feet. The smile is completely gone from his face. “I will not stand you speaking of my fiancée that way.”

The anger is washed away by shock, followed shortly by… something else entirely. A warm fuzzy sensation in her chest. She clutches her hand against it, as she looks up at him. “Gerald…”

Keith snaps to face the prince. “Why are you looking at me like that? You of all people should know what she’s like!”

Gerald grimaces slightly as he glances down at her. “I admit that our relationship has… had its ups and downs—”

The brunette’s eye twitches slightly as her gloved hand clenches into a fist. The warm feeling is gone.

“—but I cannot tolerate your vendetta against her,” Gerald replies, looking back up with a stony expression.

She sighs as the anger fades, crossing her arms and eying him skeptically. Well, perhaps his earlier remark can be forgiven. Just this once.

Sirius leans in from the head of the table, making a placating gesture. “Gentlemen, please keep in mind that we have a duty to this council regardless of our personal opinions of its members.”

Keith drops to his chair and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath before levelling a glare at Katarina once more. “Fine. I admit it.”

“Admit it?”

Katarina’s jaw drops. “You’re implicating yourself?”

Her mind is quickly redirected to more immediate concerns as Keith’s dark blue eyes bear down on her. “I don’t know how you’ve done it, but I’m not going to let you or your little allies control me. So yes, I did it.”

“Lord Claes,” Sirius says, a bead of sweat forming on his forehead. “You are aware that even if your allegations are proven true, this will almost certainly result in both your expulsions from the council?”

“It’s apparently the only way I can show you all who she really is,” he spits. “So yes, I admit it. I baited Katarina into following me to Claes Manor, knowing she’d be too paranoid to leave me alone, and turned around as soon as she arrived.” He pauses. “I was expecting a few hours, but when it became clear that the rain made the roads behind me impassable, I took the opportunity to do a more thorough examination of her room. That’s when I realized I should collect the ash. Later, I used magic to reconstitute it into the forms.”

Alan’s eyes widen as he slumps back into his seat. Gerald blinks rapidly, crimson cape fluttering as he regains his footing. Sophia ducks behind the lip of the table, her red eyes reflecting in the wood’s garnish. Maria goes pale as her blue eyes widen, before immediately looking down at her lap. Even Nicol seems taken aback as his eyebrows rise slightly. Only Sirius and Katarina seem unsurprised by the admission, something that doesn’t escape the latter’s notice.

Keith's head whips around the table. “Why are you all looking at me like that? This is nothing compared to what she’s done to me!”

There’s another long period of silence as the assembled council members stare at him.

“I move that Lord Claes’ council position be suspended pending further investigation of misconduct.”

It’s not one of her allies that brings it up. Rather, it’s Lord Ascart.

“What?” Keith exclaims, looking at him in shock.

“I’m sorry,” the black-haired noble says calmly, “but it’s clear your objectivity has been compromised.”

“I don’t understand,” Keith says, his voice suddenly sounding very soft. “Can’t any of you see who she is?”

“I mean, Katarina can be annoying sometimes, but she’s actually really sweet once you get to know her,” Alan replies. “And either way, for someone who’s accusing her of using her position to punish people she doesn’t like, it seems an awful lot like you’re doing exactly that.” He turns to Sirius. “I second Lord Ascart’s motion.”

“I-I concur,” Lady Ascart mumbles.

“As do I,” Gerald intones, returning to his seat.

All eyes turn to her as there’s a lull in the voting. Katarina shakes off her astonishment and opens her mouth to concur.

“Lady Claes, you will abstain,” Sirius suddenly says, a strange glint in his eye. “You have a conflict of interest.”

She blinks in astonishment, but barely a moment later, all eyes have turned to the light mage, whose blue eyes are wide in horror as she realizes she is the deciding vote. “Me?”

“This motion requires an absolute majority of all council members,” Sirius explains, before shrugging and returning to his seat. He offers the blonde a sympathetic smile. “I do not have an opinion on the matter, so I will be abstaining as well.”

Yet Katarina can’t help but feel something is off. Something is different about this smile compared to the others.

Her attention is quickly diverted, however, to the light mage frantically looking between her and Keith, a look of pure distress on her face. “I… have to decide?”

“If you refuse to concur, the motion will fail,” the president explains. “If you concur, he will be suspended from the council.”

Her face goes pale. “I see.”

Keith turns to her. “You’re not really—" His eyes widen. “You’re considering it?”

“I-I don’t know!” she squeaks. “I don’t want to, b-but the way you’ve been acting to Lady Katarina…”

He gapes at her. “Maria?”

“…m-maybe it would be good for you to have some time to cool off?”

He closes his eyes, shaking slightly. “This can’t be happening.”

“I mean, I-I’m not mad at you! Not really…” She tries to force herself to chuckle. “I-In a way… I think I have you to thank for letting me meet Lady Katarina as well.”

“Just get on with it,” he hisses.

“I’m sorry, b-but…” She grimaces, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. “…I concur.”

As the look of betrayal spreads across his face, something twists in Katarina’s chest. Even though it’s no less than he deserves after the way he’s acted. She shakes her head and pushes the feeling aside.

“The motion passes,” Sirius states. “Lord Keith, you are hereby suspended from this council pending a full investigation of your conduct.”

Keith closes his eyes as he grips his head. “This is…” He stumbles into a wall, bracing himself against it as his breathing increases. “This can’t be happening.”

Then, out of the corner of her eye, Katarina sees a pebble lift into the air. A moment later, it’s joined by several others.

Her blood runs cold.

An empty teacup rattles as a small tremor shakes the floor.

Katarina clutches her chest as icy terror spreads through her veins. She’s felt this before. This sense of impending doom.

But only once.

Then, as quickly as it started, the shaking stops. The pebbles fall to the ground as Keith looks up in shock, blue eyes similarly wide. He glances around the chamber, breathing heavily.

“I… I need to go,” he says quickly.

Then, without a further word, he bolts out of the chamber.

Sirius looks at the swinging door for a moment before turning to the other members. Even Nicol looks shaken.

“Perhaps we all could use some time to cool off,” the President states, his voice shaky. “Meeting adjourned.”

Almost immediately, she’s bombarded by several members asking her if she’s alright. She tries to put on a calm face as she nods and tells them she just needs some time alone to catch her breath. The attention is suffocating.

None of them look happy about it, but they all give her the space she’s requested, and soon enough, only she and the council president remain in the room.

It takes a few more minutes before her own breathing has calmed enough to rise from her chair.

She closes her eyes as she opens the door and steps into the hall, sighing as the glances behind herself to shut it behind her. When she faces forward, she catches a glimpse of light blue fabric before she crashes face-first into its surprisingly firm embrace.

She stumbles backward, grimacing as she tries to recall the appropriate insult. She raises her head to the obstacle, preparing to give it a piece of her mind. “You’re in my way, you—"

A pair of blue eyes partially obscured by a lopsided lock of silver hair look down at her. Her cheeks warm with embarrassment they narrow at her. Oh.

“You should thank me for even coming back to check on you,” Alan sighs, crossing his arms. “I think the others were too out of sorts to realize you were in no condition to be left alone, and knowing Sirius, he’d wait half an hour before he’d look up from his paperwork long enough to realize you’re still there.”

Her eyes drop down to his shirt. The fabric is the same light blue she encountered moments before. Is he wearing leather plate underneath?

“Hey, Katarina. Are you listening?”

Her cheeks grow warmer as she glances back up at him. “S-Sorry. You were saying?”

He rolls his eyes. “Typical. You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?”

Katarina glares at him. “You have no grounds to lecture me about listening!” It’s meant to come off as chiding, but it comes out as more of a whine.

“And you should look at where you’re going.”

“Fine!” She spins on her heel, brushing her hair aside. “I am looking at the hallway that leads back to my dorm.”

She takes a few steps forward before hearing a distinctly offbeat echo. She stops. “You do not need to follow me.”

“It’s my dorm too! We’re in the same building!”

She glares over her shoulder. “Alan!”

He sighs, closes his eyes, and bows his head. “Look, I’m just worried, okay? Keith seemed pretty worked up back there.”

She continues to stare. “Alan, it’s Keith. He wouldn’t—”

There’s a moment of silence, and she looks forward. “Do as you will,” she says more quietly.

She hears his footsteps behind her as she begins walking, distant conversation carrying through the even-more deserted halls. Alan slowly makes his way to her side.

“Look, I’ve had more than my fair share of fights with my siblings,” he says. “Believe me, I understand.”

Katarina looks straight ahead. “Somehow, I doubt Gerald has ever broken into your room and attempted to get you deposed from your position on the student council.”

“No. That would imply he treats me like anything but the dirt beneath his shoes,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “Sometimes irritating, but mostly ignored.”

She glances over at him. “Yet you sound surprisingly cheerful.”

He shakes his head. “Oh no, I’m pissed. Gets me mad just thinking about it. But, well, doesn’t do me any good to blow up in public.”

She snorts, a smirk crossing her face as she looks forward. “I wish Keith would learn that lesson.”

“About that. I’m not going to pry, but from what I gather, he’s been nursing that grudge for a long time.”

She frowns. “What gives you that idea?”

He shrugs. “Experience.”

She purses her lips and increases her pace. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Unfortunately, the tall prince barely has to speed up to match. “Again, I’m not going to pry. You don’t need to tell me what’s going on between you two.”

“Then why are you still talking about it?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Just nice to talk to someone who understands, I guess.”

She shakes her head. “It’s a long story. We never got along. But he’s never been like… this before.”

“Hmm,” Alan muses.

She frowns at him. “You’re not going to say anything?”

His blue eyes seem focused in the distance. “Just… thinking.” Suddenly, he snaps back to reality. “Oh, let me get that for you.”

His black coat swishes as he pulls ahead to open the door outside, and Katarina mutters a thank you as she steps into the evening sunlight. The air outside is warmer, but her dress remains comfortable. Given her family’s income, it’s probably been enchanted. She wouldn’t have paid it any mind, normally, but there’s something about the weather that reminds her of the time she was stuck in that accursed uniform.

Her boots clack against the cobblestones as Alan catches up. “Rude,” he says, leaning over her. “Not even a ‘thank you?’”

She glares at him. “I did thank you, you ungrateful cur!”

“Oh, so you actually admit it?” His lips part into a grin. “Almost couldn’t tell with the way you mumbled it under your breath and all.”

Katarina rolls her eyes as she surreptitiously extends her left palm. A moment later, the fourth prince yelps and falls forward as he loses his footing on a newly-created bump in the road, the mound still sparkling from the magic that summoned it. The tingling sensation in her palm lingers a moment longer than usual.

This time, it takes Alan a little longer to catch up. “Yeesh. You’re mean when you’re angry, Katarina,” he pouts, dusting himself off.

She rolls her eyes. “I have little patience for stupid conversation.”

“Which is why you’re currently smiling, I’m sure.”

She makes sure to frown as she looks up at him. “I’ll trip you again.”

“Try it,” he challenges, smiling widely at her as he opens his palm and a globe of water materializes above it. “You’ll be soaked before you even get the spell off.”

She looks away. “You don’t have to rub it in.”

“Huh?”

She rolls her eyes. “I know your magic is stronger, Alan.”

“No, Katarina, I’m joking. I’m not saying your magic is…” He groans and leans forwards, the water splattering against the stone path. “Ugh. I’m no good at this.”

“Clearly.”

He snaps back to attention. “Look, I’m sorry,” he insists. “It’s just whenever I talk with you, I feel so—” he pauses, searching for the word “—comfortable, I guess. Like I don’t have to act all regal and stuff.”

She tilts her nose up. “You’re making a bigger deal out of it than I am.” Plus, it’s not like he ever acted very regal to begin with.

“Maybe, but it still bothers you, doesn’t it?” He shakes his head. “I know what it’s like, constantly being compared to everyone around you and being told you don’t measure up.”

There’s a long pause as she stares at the stones beneath her feet, trying to ignore the sudden ache in her chest. “Your fiancée didn’t help matters,” is all she can think to say.

His eyes widen. “Huh? What’d Mary do?”

She glares up at him, frowning. “Oh, only send me on a wild goose chase and nearly make me miss lunch.” Mirabelle has certainly earned some favor for her assistance in that regard.

He grimaces. “Ah. I’m sure that was just a misunderstanding.”

“Right,” Katarina nods. “Just as I’m sure all those tea parties I proposed were rejected due to scheduling conflicts.”

Alan grimaces as he looks down the path. “Look, Mary can be…” he waves his hand as he searches for the right word “…intense, sometimes. But she’s a really kind and loyal person.” His voice lightens. “I’m certain she’ll warm up to you eventually.”

“Did I mention that I tried this for years?”

His eyes widen. “A-Ah.” He glances away, suddenly looking guilty. “I-I’ll talk to her about it.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t bother. She’s hardly the only person who wants nothing to do with me.”

There’s another period of silence as the high-class dormitories come into view.

“You know, it’s really unlike her to act like that,” Alan says. “I mean, I guess I can see the tea party thing – Mary’s a private person – but the rest…”

“Hm?”

He shakes his head. “Just thinking out loud. The way she was acting toward you earlier was… strange.”

Then, an idea comes to Katarina. She dismisses it immediately. If her last life proves anything, it’s that she’s far from desirable. Holding onto Gerald is already going to be a herculean feat, and she’s still not quite sure where they stand. Yet as ridiculous as it is, she can’t help but broach the possibility.

“Do you think she’s jealous, Alan?”

Alan looks at her like she’s sprouted another head. “What?”

Her cheeks burn. “B-Because she misunderstood the nature of our relationship, I mean!”

“Ah.” He brings a finger to his chin, as if contemplating the possibility, before shaking his head and chuckling. “No, that can’t be it.”

She tilts her head at him. “Why not?”

His rugged features twist in thought. “Mary’s like… a little sister to me.”

Katarina stops walking. “A little sister?”

Alan follows suit, dropping his hand as he stops in front of her. “Well, yeah. She’s kind, sweet, supportive—”

Katarina shakes her head, waving her palms. “No, no, no. That’s not what I mean.” She looks back at him in confusion. “A little sister. Not a fiancée?”

He smiles sadly. “Oh, I see the confusion.” He shakes his head. “No, we’re not like that.”

Katarina’s nose crinkles, and her eyes narrow. “You’re not?”

“Nah, it’s just political.” His voice drops as he glances away. “Probably more for my benefit than hers.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well…” he sighs. “I’m the knockoff prince. The useless one. Everyone knows I’m not going to inherit the throne. Marrying me has no advantage for her or her family.” He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe Mom and Dad gave her to me as sort of a consolation prize.”

“She certainly is pretty,” Katarina blurts. The words leave her mouth before she even realizes what she’s saying.

“Oh, she’s absolutely gorgeous,” Alan agrees, “but it’s not really fair to her, is it? Without me, she could’ve aimed so much higher.” He shakes his head. “I’ve tried to be supportive as I can, and I think she has too, but the truth is I’m just tying her down.”

Katarina turns to a nearby bush to hide her growing frown. Something about the fourth prince’s words hits far closer to home than she’d like.

Alan, oblivious to her distress, continues. “She always acts so strained around me. I guess I’m lucky she doesn’t outright resent me.” He frowns. “Probably.”

“Well…” she says, trying to think of something to say as she puts on a strong face and faces him. “I think any girl who’s engaged to you should feel very lucky indeed.”

He stares at her for a moment. The setting sun makes his cheeks appear pink. Then, he turns away and pulls up his scarf. “I-I think so too. W-With you, I mean.” A pause. “If my brother still isn’t treating you right—”

“He’s been fine, Alan.”

He nods. “Good. He better stay that way.”

As if on cue, the third prince’s voice carries across the path. “Did someone call me?”

“Gerald?” Katarina asks, turning her head to face the approaching blonde.

“Brother,” Alan scowls, pulling down his scarf.

Her fiancé walks up to them, placing a hand on his hip as he comes to a stop nearby. “Might I ask what you’re doing alone with my fiancée, Alan?”

“I was escorting her to her dormitory since you left her behind,” he frowns.

“I was only respecting her wishes,” Gerald says. “She asked to be left alone, after all.”

“And you didn’t think to check up on her?”

“That’s what I was doing just now,” he smiles, glancing at her. “Terribly sorry for the delay.”

“Typical,” Alan groans, turning away.

Gerald turns to Katarina. “I'm beginning to suspect you’ve rubbed off on him.” He looks to his brother. “Or perhaps he’s rubbed off on you?” He takes her arm into his. “Regardless, I'll take over from here, Alan.”

The fourth prince whips around toward him as he steps forward, arms taut with anger. “Now wait just a second—!”

“Alan,” Katarina interrupts. “Thank you.”

His blue eyes lock with hers, before he straightens his back, crosses his arms, and looks away. “Yeah, whatever.” His eyes dart back to hers. “Stay safe, okay?”

“Rest assured that I will allow no harm to come to her,” Gerald interjects.

The fourth prince just glares. “I wasn’t talking to you.” He turns away and continues down the path, sparing one last look over his shoulder at Katarina.

“Well, that was odd,” Gerald says as soon as Alan’s out of earshot. The two begin walking forward. “How on Earth did you manage to keep him from flying off the handle?”

Katarina’s lips purse. “You could've thanked him, you know. I think he would’ve appreciated it.”

His brow furrows. “He's my brother. Is that not already implied?”

“Not from the way he talks about it.”

“Well, I suppose it can’t hurt.” He shrugs. “I'll try and remember that the next time I see him. If he’ll even let me talk to him, that is.” He grins at her. “Though I believe there’s something incredibly ironic about you telling me to thank someone.”

Katarina rolls her eyes and unhooks her arm. A moment later, the third prince shouts as he trips over a mound of dirt.

“It's surprisingly easy to forget you two are siblings,” she chirps.

Her blood runs cold as she hears distant laughter. Not that of the third prince, but his brother. For as she looks ahead, she can see Alan hunched over near the entrance to the dormitories, howling with glee.

Her good sense catches up to her shortly after the third prince reappears at her side wearing a truly wicked smile.

“A-Ah, Prince Gerald—”

“Katarina,” he says calmly, folding his hands behind his back. “Do you happen to know anything about the mound of dirt that appeared before me just now?”

“U-Uh…” She tries not to let her anxiety show through, but she can’t help but wonder if she’s pushed him too far this time. Certainly, even Gerald will be inclined to let a bit of teasing slide, but something like this?

“Why, it’s almost as if it was summoned by magic!” he quips, his smile doing little to dispel his threatening aura.

She closes her eyes, gulps down her fear, and summons every last drop of courage within her. “I-I did,” she admits. “N-Now we’re even.”

He tilts his head, his brilliant smile not fading. “Hm?”

She crosses her arms and sticks her nose in the air. “F-For the rude remark you made!”

The third prince stares at her for a moment. As he does, the darkness surrounding him seems to retreat a little. “Well, that hardly seems fair. I say one thing out of line and you send me careening into the ground?”

“You said something else in the council chambers, too!”

“Really?” he taps his chin. “And I presume this occurred whilst I was helping you defend against your brother’s accusations, yes?”

She bites her lip. “Well—”

“But you’re right. You’ve had a tough day, Katarina,” he smiles. The dark aura comes surging back. “So, I will be generous, and ask you for only one thing.”

Something about the way he says ‘Katarina’ sends shivers down her spine. “W-What?”

“An apology.” Impossibly, his grin grows even wider. “One of the ones you claim to so readily give.”

Katarina grits her teeth as her fiancée looks on in barely-disguised glee while Alan’s laughter echoes nearby. After taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes, opens her mouth, and speaks. “Fine. I’m sorry.” She opens her eyes and glares at him. “There. Was that good enough for you?”

He smiles, leans forward, and pecks her on the neck. She takes a halting breath as the sensation sends sparks down her spine.

“Apology accepted,” he replies, pulling away to reveal a satisfied grin adorning his damnably perfect features. The sinister aura is completely gone.

She barely notices as Alan’s nearby laughter abruptly cuts out. She doesn’t care as her cheeks glow a bright red. Her mind is too preoccupied trying to make sense of what just happened to worry about that as she stares at her fiancé with wide eyes.

He kissed her.

Not a polite kiss on the hand, as obligated by social custom. A real kiss. One unbeckoned by procedure or formality. Perhaps not on the lips as she wishes, but a kiss nonetheless.

For a moment, she wonders if she really is dead after all, and this is her afterlife. For how long has she dreamed of this moment? How long has she wanted to see her prince spoil and dote on her the way that harlot had oh-so-effortlessly elicited? How many years has she spent refining herself to be a lady worthy of standing by his side? How much time has she spent listening to Mother’s words of guidance, no matter how often they bored her to tears? Yet the trick is to do none of it? To ignore it all? She should be absolutely infuriated. Years of her life, utterly wasted.

Yet she still feels giddy. Her heart beats loudly in her ears as she gapes at her fiancé’s handsome visage and soaks in the affectionate gaze of his dark blue eyes. He kissed her. Gerald kissed her! Even if it had taken years, perhaps her efforts hadn’t been for naught!

Her mouth moves uselessly as her arms fall to her sides. Finally, after taking a deep breath, and allowing her heart to calm, she recomposes herself. “I-I should also thank you for helping me back in the council as well.”

His golden brows flare up in curiosity. Then, he smiles again. “Think nothing of it, Katarina. I did not mind in the slightest.”

“Oh, is that so?” A sly grin crosses her face. “I’m fairly certain if this had happened a few months ago, you would’ve relished the opportunity to not get away from me.”

His smile turns pained. “I hardly think that’s fair…”

She frowns. “Be honest with me, Gerald.”

He sighs, looking away. “I would have… considered it.”

She crosses her arms again. Even though she was expecting his answer, it still irritates her. Still, she pushes down the feeling. “Then why not go along with it?” she gestures. “What changed?”

“Well, that’s because—” he begins to say, but then tilts his head at her, looking genuinely confused. For the second time in his life, the genius prince is at a loss for words. He eventually looks away, the setting sun framing his sharp features in shadow as he lifts a finger to his chin. “Hm. Perhaps Alan is not the only one you’ve rubbed off on.”

She rocks back on her heels. “Pardon?

Gerald just shakes his head, and offers the crook of his arm once more. “Come now. I’m sure your maid is waiting on you.”

As the two of them turn towards the dormitory, only then does she realize Alan is nowhere in sight. She pays it little mind. He must have gotten tired of laughing and went on ahead. She’ll just have to pay him back for that later.

Gerald slips out of her arm to hold open the door for her.

“After you, Katarina.”

She blinks for a moment, before sighing as she steps through the doorway.

It’s only when her back is turned to him that she allows herself to smile.

Katarina calmly turns a page of her novel as Anne checks around the room, looking for anything the servants missed and tidying up the remainder in preparation for their departure from the academy.

“I see. Thank you for bringing this to my attention.” The maid softly closes the door to the dormitory. “Apologies, Lady Katarina,” she says, walking towards the noble lady. “There appears to be a development regarding the carriage.”

Katarina marks her place before closing the book and looking up at her. “Hm? What’s going on?”

“Lord Claes is requesting his possessions be transferred to another carriage,” the maid replies. “The academy staff would like me to confirm the ownership of each.”

Katarina rolls her eyes as she places the novel on the table. “Oh, of course. Now he’s too good to even sit with me?”

The maid remains stoic. “I will return soon.” She bows her head. “Pardon me.”

Quietly, she steps out of the room, leaving Katarina alone in the barren dormitory. Though much of the furniture remains, all her personal effects are gone, having been packed by Anne and servants hired by the academy several hours earlier.

She glances to the novel, debating if she should resume where she left off. Yet Keith had ruined that too. At least, for the time being. She doesn’t want her enjoyment of her ally’s gift to be tainted by his latest tantrum, after all.

Her blood boils as she remembers their confrontations. First after the exam, then the incident in the council chambers, and now this? That insolent cur! He’s been antagonizing her the entire day!

Yet now, as then, she’s forced to do nothing. To let the anger simmer within her. Logically, she knows that’s the right thing to do – any other course of action is foolish, and could jeopardize everything she’s been working for – but it doesn’t change how she feels. He has absolutely no idea what she’s been through, or the sacrifices she’s made. She literally died, for heaven’s sake!

The Keith in her past life was far more cowardly. He avoided her as much as possible, trying to escape the consequences of his actions. That was, after all, the reason he’d hid when ‘saving’ the harlot. He rightfully feared her retribution, and so hid behind his magic. It was not as if a giant earth golem left much doubt to the identity of its caster, but it must have made some sort of sense within his twisted worldview.

Even after the harlot sank her hooks into him and transformed him into yet another one of her insipid followers, his defiance merely cooled into a smug condescension, talking down to her as if she was his lesser. He would no longer even make a show of following proper decorum while interacting with her, and would refuse to listen to any of her warnings. Yet he was still recognizably the same coward that wormed his way into her family. He knew better than to act against her directly.

So why the open hostility? Why the bolder and bolder actions? Why any of this, and why now?

Does he think she doesn’t approve of his courtship of the light mage? If so, he isn’t wrong. In her past life, she made no secret of her distaste for the idea of him debasing their family name with that harlot. In this world, there’s a far simpler reason: Maria can do so much better.

Still, as much as something inside her twists in rage at the idea, she has long-since realized it’s in her best interest not to interfere. As distasteful as marrying across class lines would be, it’s not like it’s going to damage the family name any more than his womanizing antics already have. If anything, it’d be the opposite. Considering Maria’s magical affinity, most nobles would be inclined to turn a blind eye to her background. Indeed, there’s only one outcome that could result in the Claes name becoming more tainted than it already is, and Katarina will personally skin Keith alive if it ever comes to that.

After all, the last thing Maria deserves is the same fate as Mother.

There’s a knock on the door. For a moment, Katarina expects Anne to get it. Then, as she remembers her current situation, she rises from her seat, moves to the door, and opens it.

A twisted knot of feelings stir within her upon seeing the light mage standing outside her door. “Maria?”

The blonde flinches back, thatched basket dangling in her hands. “Ah! Lady Katarina!” She averts her eyes. “Sorry about earlier.”

The fire in her veins calms, and she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath as she reminds herself who she’s talking to. When she opens her eyes a moment later to see the girl’s soft blue eyes staring at her with concern, the flames go out entirely.

“It is fine,” she sighs. “You did nothing wrong.” She pauses, turning to look at her skeptically. “Though I very much question your taste in men.”

She tilts her head. “Huh?”

Katarina gestures to the basket swinging in the blonde’s hands. “Weren’t you meaning to give that to Keith?”

Immediately, Maria’s face flushes red. “L-Lady Katarina, it’s not like that!”

She arches a brow. “Pardon?”

Maria frees one of her hands from the basket, gesturing frantically as she lets the other drop to her side. “Not at all! You misunderstood!”

She crosses her arms and rolls her eyes. “Forgive me for assuming that there is some other reason you would be spending time with the academy’s most infamous playboy.”

“We’re just friends!” Maria exclaims, waving both her hands as the basket handle slides up her elbow.

“Perhaps that’s what you think,” interjects Katarina, looking at her suspiciously, “the veritable harem your lookalike gathered makes me doubt he feels the same way.”

“Lookalike?” Maria repeats, before shaking her head and smiling awkwardly. “Lady Katarina, I’m not following you at all.”

The noble lady’s eyes widen slightly before she quickly recovers, tilting her head up and making a dismissive gesture. “Never-mind. It is irrelevant.”

“I see,” replies the light mage, who clearly does not. Her expression darkens. “Though honestly… I’m not sure Keith and I are even friends anymore.”

“I see,” Katarina nods. She pauses to lean close to Maria, examining her skeptically. “Even so, you’re still getting awfully flustered.”

The light mage buries her face in her hands, hiding her iridescent blush. “You’re teasing me on purpose now, aren’t you?”

The lady’s eyes crinkle shut as she chuckles lightly. She pulls away a moment later, curling a finger around her chin as she grinningly appraises the embarrassed girl. “Teasing you? How?”

Maria lifts her head to reply, but something stops her as their gazes meet. The blonde stares, her wide blue eyes filled with an emotion Katarina can’t quite recognize.

Katarina’s smile falls. “What? Is there something on my face?”

“N-No, it’s just…” She groans loudly as she once again buries her face in her hands. “I’m sorry. It’s just a little hard for me to think straight around you sometimes.”

Katarina arches an eyebrow at Maria’s strange remark, but says nothing. Perhaps her unfamiliarity with noble decorum is the reason for her continued embarrassment? She may have to work on that later.

“A-Anyway,” Maria says quickly as she removes her face from her hands, slides the basket down her arm, catches the handle in her palm, and presents it to Katarina. “I meant to give you this after your exam.”

Katarina stares at the basket. After a moment, she raises a gloved hand and points to herself. “This is for me?”

The flustered light mage nods. “I wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for me, and you seemed to really like the cookies I made at my house, so…”

Katarina nods slowly, gently taking the basket from her hands. She handles it delicately, as though it will shatter like glass at the slightest touch. Gingerly, she opens the basket. A delicious smell wafts from inside, and her eyes widen as she looks at its contents. The basket is filled to the brim with heart-shaped cookies. “Wow. You made a lot.”

“S-Sorry,” Maria stutters. “I got carried away. It’s been a while since I’ve baked for someone else…”

A maelstrom of emotions twirls within Katarina’s chest. She’s grateful for Maria’s gift, and she’s glad to know she made Maria happy. Yet there’s another emotion. One sapping the energy from the others.

Guilt.

After all, it’s thanks to her premature judgement that Maria had been barred from kitchen in the first place. She had not even tried to confirm the light mage’s identity before assuming she and the harlot were one and the same. Yet Maria has proven to be a near-unparalleled ally; loyal, kind, and supportive. Before the stunning showing today, and aside from Anne, Katarina knew of only one other ally worthy of being held in such high regard.

Well, that’s what she thought at the time, at least. Evidently said former ally no longer feels the same way.

“Lady Katarina?” says Maria, tearing Katarina away from her thoughts. The light mage is wearing an uncertain expression. “Is something wrong?”

Katarina blinks before realizing she’s wearing a rather displeased expression as she stares at the contents of the basket. “Ah, no, it’s not that, it’s just…” She shakes her head and sighs before turning back toward the light mage and smiling. “Thank you for the gift, Maria. They smell delicious.”

Her expression immediately brightens, and she excitedly clasps her hands over her chest. “It’s no trouble at all, Lady Katarina. If you ever want me to bake any more, please feel free to ask!”

The knot in her chest tightens. “Would you like to eat some of them with me? It’ll be a while before Anne returns.”

“I’d love to!” Maria replies enthusiastically, but then suddenly pauses, eyes widening as she suddenly remembers something. “Oh… sorry, I actually have a carriage waiting for me.” She drops her head and wrings her hands. “Apologies, Lady Katarina. I hope you’re not upset.”

Katarina snorts in amusement. As if she’d actually be mad at her after that stunning display of loyalty, much less for such a perfectly reasonable excuse. Maria could even tear her dress or stomp on her foot right now, and Katarina would still be inclined to turn a blind eye. Well, so long as it was accidental, of course.

So, using her free hand, she gently presses a finger against the light mage’s chin as she brings her face to meet hers. “You’re fine,” Katarina says, wearing a bemused smile as the easily-flustered blonde predictably goes red once again.

Maria stares at her with that strange emotion in her eyes until Katarina pulls away a moment later. Grasping one of her cheeks, the light mage shakes her head as a smile crosses her face. “I’m really glad I met you, Lady Katarina.”

The lady’s heart skips a beat as Maria’s azure eyes lock with hers, her golden hair sparkling in the window light as she continues to wear that adorable expression.

“Me too,” Katarina replies softly. It’s completely surreal to be saying that to someone who shares her face. Yet, in spite of everything that’s happened, she really means it.

“Please visit if you have time!” she pleads. “I’ll bake you more sweets!”

The brunette snorts. “Well, I can’t exactly decline that, can I?”

By the time Anne returns, Katarina’s already eaten most of the basket’s contents.

Her companion looks down at the basket, arching a brow. “Miss Campbell brought these?”

The noble lady nods enthusiastically. “These are the best sugar cookies I’ve ever had!” She holds one out. “Do you want one, Anne?”

Anne’s brown eyes widen slightly. “Lady Katarina, do you find anything odd about the shape?”

Katarina pauses mid-bite, crossing her eyes as she lifts the cookie to her face. “They look like hearts?”

“Do you think there may be some significance to that?”

Another pause. “Maria really likes hearts?”

Anne closes her eyes and shakes her head. “Never-mind,” she sighs.

Katarina scowls. “So do you want the cookie or not?”

“I will pass, My Lady.” A small smile crosses the maid’s lips. “After all, I am clearly not the intended recipient.”

“More for me,” the noble shrugs, popping it into her mouth.

“Are you ready to leave, My Lady? The carriage is ready.”

Katarina holds up a finger. “Just one more.” She takes a bite of another cookie, savoring the sweet flavor as it melts in her mouth. She swallows the delectable treat and sighs wistfully. “So good!”

“You should pace yourself,” Anne warns. “You'll get a stomach ache at this rate.”

“You're right,” she groans, folding the basket closed. “It’s just… not only are they nostalgic, but they remind me of Joana's too.”

“Joana?”

“Why do you sound so confused?” Katarina asks, holding the basket by its handles as she rises to her feet. “Isn’t she your boss?”

Anne folds her hands behind her back.  “As your personal maid, I answer only to you and your parents, Lady Katarina.” Her brow furrows, and she shifts back to a more neutral stance. “Yet I am surprised to hear the head maid would indulge in such matters.”

“Back when she was a scullery maid, she'd make them whenever I asked!” Katarina grins. “I thought they were the most delicious things in the world!”

A smirk adorns Anne’s features as she glances away. “Ah. I see.”

“Maria’s are better, though,” the noble declares. “Of course, I wouldn’t turn down either of them, but if I had to pick, the choice is obvious.”

Anne's brown eyes flit back to her. “Your passion for sweets is evident, My Lady.”

“I’m glad you understand, Anne. Whenever I try to explain it to Mother, she just reminds me to watch my portions.”

“I'm sure she is just looking out for you, My Lady.”

“I know that! And I follow her advice, too! I just don’t understand why no-one else sees the issue with putting all the sweets on one table and letting you take as many as you want, if you’re not actually allowed to take more than a few! It’s completely illogical! Not only that, it’s cruel! They’re intentionally tempting you to take more than you should!”

The maid covers her mouth in horror as her stifled protestations cause her chest to convulse. “I believe I see the severity of the situation."

Katarina nods in approval. “I'm glad someone else can see it! I swear, it must be some kind of conspiracy by noble pastry makers. The whole system is corrupt!”

After a few more moments to come to terms with the unjustness of the situation, her companion finally removes her hand from her mouth, revealing a wide smile. Clearly, she too must be filled with revolutionary zeal!

“Beg your pardon, My Lady, but I believe you’re forgetting your book.”

All thoughts of sweets escape from her mind as she turns around to see the green cover of Sophia and the Emerald Princess still lying on the table. She reaches down to pick it up, only to find Anne holding the door open for her when she looks back up.

“Come along, Lady Katarina,” she smiles. “We can talk more in the carriage, but we should get moving while there’s still daylight.”

Just as Katarina steps into the carriage, a voice carries out over the front gardens. “L-Lady Claes!”

“Hm?” She looks over her shirt to see a white-haired girl hitching her skirt as she bounds over to her, her brother following calmly behind.

Katarina steps down from the carriage, turning to face her. “Lady Ascart?”

The petite noble comes to a stop a few feet away from her, holding up her hand for a moment as she catches her breath. During this time, Nicol halts a bit further back, his expression unreadable as he looks on. After a few moments, she begins to realize why so many of her previous allies were infatuated with the nobleman.

Her eyes flick back to his sibling as Lady Ascart straightens her back and rises to her (somewhat meager) full height.

“B-Before you go, I wanted you to have this.” She raises her other hand, revealing a small thornless red rose that had previously escaped Katarina’s notice. The color matches her eyes.

Katarina brushes against Lady Ascart’s soft hands as she gently accepts the flower, turning the rose over as its sweet fragrance wafts into her nose. A strange sense of déjà vu washes over her. Something about this scenario seems familiar.

Wait… this is a scene from Sophia and the Emerald Princess, isn’t it? Yes, it’s from when Sophia first met the princess in the gardens! The kind-hearted commoner, Sophia, gave a red rose to Princess Emerald to try and cheer her up, which lead to the beginning of their beautiful friendship.

A smile crosses Katarina’s face as she looks up from the flower. Sophia’s long hair may be a strange pale white, and her eyes a piercing crimson, yet there’s definitely beauty in the girl’s exotic appearance. Quite honestly, she makes her namesake from the novel sound quite plain by comparison. As beautiful as she’s described as being, there’s no doubt that the Sophia of the book’s black hair and dark eyes would be far less eye-catching.

Then, the brunette’s smile falls, and bitterness twists in her stomach. Is she the only member of the council not blessed with supernaturally good looks? How is it that even a cursed child surpasses her?

“L-Lady Claes?”

She looks back at the young Ascart, whose pleading red eyes are now filled with anxiety.

“D-Do you not l-like it?”

Katarina’s eyes go wide, and it takes her a moment to process what’s happened. Panicking, she blurts the first thing that comes to mind. “What beautiful hair you have… would you mind if I ran my fingers through it, just ever so slightly?”

The young Ascart stares at her, mouth wide.

Immediately, Katarina cringes. Why on Earth did she just say a line from the novel? It's a total non-sequitur. Not only that, but the reference is vague at best. Lady Ascart might think she literally just wants to run her fingers through her hair. The chance she will even recognize the meaning behind her exclamation is—

“I… suppose it would not be an issue, your majesty,” Sophia recites, a radiant smile spreading across her face. “You’ve been reading Sophia and the Emerald Princess?”

“Well, yes,” Katarina blinks. “Why do you sound so surprised? You are the one who gave it to me, after all.”

“O-Of course I know that!” she nods, “b-but I thought…”

“Thought what?”

Her red eyes glance away. “W-Well, you never told me when you’d like to meet for our reading sessions…”

“Eh?” Katarina tilts her head. “I mean, pardon? Did we not agree to conduct them over the weekends?”

Lady Ascart glances back up. “Y-You’re still interested?”

“Of course I am!” Katarina shouts. “What kind of lady would I be if I went back on my word?”

The white-haired girl pumps her fists. “R-Right! T-That’s what we’ll do then!”

Katarina closes her eyes and nods confidently. “Good! I’m glad that’s settled, Sophia.”

No sooner have the words left her mouth, her eyes fly open. Lady Ascart is again looking at her with wide eyes, a troubled expression on her face. Katarina curses inwardly. She’d been thinking so much about the character that she’d forgotten decorum.

“P-Pardon,” Katarina stammers, trying to recover. “I meant Lady—”

“Lady Claes,” the girl interrupts. Her lips part into a soft smile. “I have told you this before, but I would like it very much if you would just call me Sophia.”

This time, unlike before, her voice does not waver. Her tone belies a confidence in her words that did not exist before. Indeed, her enthusiastic smile seems charged with absolute certainty.

Katarina tilts up her nose as she looks away, ignoring the warmth in her cheeks. “Fine. But you must call me ‘Lady Katarina’ in return.”

“I look forward to it,” Sophia smiles, “Lady Katarina.”

Chapter Text

Sienna sits in front of the vanity mirror, holding the jeweled earring to her head. The resemblance to Lady Claes that she'd once taken so much pride in now causes her chest to tighten. Still, unable to find any other suitable wear, she sighs and reaches to her ear. These had cost a fortune, after all. She may as well put them to good use.

She slips them on and examines her reflection before closing the drawer and glancing around her dorm room. An observer would be forgiven for thinking that the bare walls and furniture were solely the result of her packing, but truthfully, the dorm had not had much in the way of extra furnishings even before the academy servants had gotten to it. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. This is why her presence here is so important.

After a moment, she opens her eyes and continues going about the room, checking for anything she may have missed in her earlier sweep. Aside from the decision on the earrings she’d been putting off until now, she finds nothing of note. Nodding, she pushes open the door and exits into the hallway, closing it behind her and heading toward the entrance.

To her surprise, the door opens ahead of her. She scowls as she sees light blonde hair catch the evening sunset. The commoner’s smile fades as the two of them lock eyes, and she very quickly dives into a neighboring hallway. Sienna knows from experience that’s not where the cretin’s room is located, but she’s hardly going to complain. It’s actually somewhat encouraging to know the upstart has some awareness of her social rank, even if only because Sienna’s pounded it into her skull.

Her frown deepens as she exits the lower-class dormitories. She’s actually somewhat insulted that the academy placed the two of them in the same building. Sure, a commoner attending the academy is rare enough that there are no quarters specifically set out for them, but could they not have given her a space in the servant’s quarters instead of pretending they were on the same level? Of course, it was due to her light magic. It was all due to her light magic. The academy would bend over backwards to favor their precious wielder of light. Perhaps it’s no wonder the peasant has grown such a large ego. It’s certainly not helped by how many people seem to fawn over her.

She sighs again, dropping her head as she continues down the path. That girl has bewitched the whole student council. At first, just the boys, but now even Lady Claes. It’s as baffling as it is infuriating. The last time they had spoken to one another on friendly terms, the lady seemed utterly terrified of Maria. She warned Sienna to not attack her, and claimed that it was somehow playing into her desires. Yet now they’re friends? To the point that Lady Claes would defend her? Nothing about it makes sense. Nor does the lady’s panicked warning that fateful night, where she accurately predicted the events of the following day, and then proceeded to halt them before they could come to pass.

Now, Sienna wonders if she shouldn’t have dismissed Lady Claes’ warnings of the commoner wanting to be attacked. Her research into mind-affecting magic has been stymied by a lack of available sources, but from what little she can scrounge together, she has noticed some disturbing trends. There are odd irregularities within the academy’s library: missing books and references that seem to dead-end whenever she approaches the topic. There aren’t many to begin with, so it’s possible they’ve simply been lost, but she can’t help but wonder if the absence is deliberate. Is it possible such magic truly does exist?

She tries to ignore the chill that runs down her spine at the thought.

Still, it seems unlikely that a peasant would have access to such spells, nor that the commoner would have the strength of will to be capable of performing them. Yet Lady Claes’ warning vexes her. If the actions of that morning were not predetermined, how had she known they would happen? Has she truly gone back in time as she claimed? Time magic is another area the library seems entirely silent on. Yet how could Lady Claes pull off such a spell? Katarina’s magic is no more potent than Sienna’s own, after all. If anything, it might be less.

She shakes her head as she walks to the front gardens, dislodging the thoughts from her mind. There’s no point dwelling on questions she can’t answer.

Her heels clack against the cobblestones as she walks beside the main building, and she’s suddenly aware of how quiet the campus has become. Her group has certainly shrunken since Lady Claes took her leave, but she can’t quite remember the last time she was alone like this. She grips her arms as she continues, trying to shake the feeling.

As she nears the corner, she hears a voice ring out.

“L-Lady Claes!”

Her eyes widen, and she freezes in place.

There’s a quiet reply, and while it’s softer than normal and she cannot make out the words, the voice is unmistakably that of the duke’s daughter.

Sienna glances away, feeling her chest twist with uncertainty. She really should go. She’s not wanted here. Yet something drives her to step forward and peek around the corner of the building.

There, out on the white cobblestone, is the Claes’ ornate carriage, with Katarina hanging out the doorway with a confused expression. At her feet, bowing – or actually, now that she looks more closely, panting – is a petite, white-haired girl. There is only one person it could be: Lady Ascart.

The cursed child lifts her head and presents the noblewoman with a red rose. Sienna’s eyes widen. Lady Claes reaches over, examines the gift, and smiles, a hint of pink appearing on her cheeks as she examines the abnormal girl. Sienna grips the brick wall concealing her. She heard rumors of this, but did not think they could be true. These two are actually friends?

She closes her eyes and glances away, bringing her hand to her chest as she takes a shaky breath. To think that Lady Claes would spurn her company for that of a cursed child… is she truly that inferior? Were the noble lady’s words just lies?

Her eyes fly open as she hears a commotion behind her. Is Lady Katarina hurt? She once again leans past the corner, gripping the brick wall as she surveys the area. She catches a glimpse of the elder Ascart standing a distance away with his arms crossed, and makes a mental note of his presence before turning to her main priority. Yet all she sees is Lady Claes frantically speaking as she waves her hands in front of her, face red with embarrassment.

Sienna’s heart falls as the scene continues to unfold. The two chat happily about some meeting they have together, alternating between embarrassment and wide-eyed excitement.

Lady Katarina never spoke to her that way.

Sienna thought they’d shared a bond, and the lady had always seemed far more eager to spend time with her than her counterparts, but she’s never seen this side of her before. Is it something she kept from her all this time? Has she overestimated their previous friendship?

She almost laughs. What is she thinking? She wouldn’t be in this situation if she hadn’t.

Eventually, the conversation comes to an end, and she watches Lady Claes disappear into the carriage. As the driver pulls on the reigns and the horses begin to trot forward, the white-haired girl waves excitedly as it trundles down the promenade and heads for the academy gates.

Sienna turns away from the corner and crosses her arms as she leans against the wall. Lady Claes looked so happy. Happier than she ever was around her.

She closes her eyes and clenches her teeth, pushing down the emotions that threaten to spill over. Why can’t she move past this? She knows she shouldn’t be so hung up on a single lost friendship, and yet it still feels like a red-hot poker is being stabbed through her chest whenever she sees her.

She’s furious at her. She can’t stand the idea that Lady Claes would throw her away after all she’s done, just because of a single fight! Yet she misses her deeply. She wants to apologize for the things she said to her that night, and admit that she should’ve listened to her instead of lashing out.

“Disgusting, isn’t it?”

Sienna’s eyes fly open to see a noblewoman standing in front of her. She has a long black ponytail and purple dress even more ornate as Lady Claes’. Sienna recognizes her. Several of her former allies had gone to join her.

“You’re that noblewoman from the sticks, aren’t you?” She glances to the side as she taps a finger to her chin. “Miss Nelson, wasn’t it?”

Sienna frowns. “Lady Nelson.”

The noblewoman shrugs before continuing. “I am Noelia Flores, daughter and heir to Marquis Flores.”

Sienna bites down her irritation and curtsies. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Flores.”

Her smile seems to strain. “Yes. Quite.”

Sienna arches a brow, but says nothing.

“It is dreadful, is it not?” Lady Flores continues. “Seeing such a high-ranking noble cavorting with the lower classes…”

Sienna’s eyes narrow. “What do you want?”

Her smile turns into a scowl, and she crosses her arms. “How rude.” She flips her hair before giving Sienna a sidelong glance. “If you must know, I have come to recruit you.”

Sienna blinks, tension leaving her body. “Recruit me?”

A smile spreads across Lady Flores’ lips, and she faces Sienna once more. “I hear that you and Lady Claes used to be quite close.” She rests a hand on her hip. “That could be useful.”

Sienna tilts her head. “What do you mean?”

“I take it you are no friend of our resident commoner, Miss Nelson.”

Sienna looks down at the ground. “No. No I am not.”

“Neither am I,” Lady Flores replies. “We have a common interest.”

She looks back up. “I did not see you taking action against her until recently.”

The black-haired noble narrows her eyes at her. “Pardon me?”

“Forgive me for my skepticism,” Sienna replies drolly.

Lady Flores’ purple eyes bore into her. “I do not have to explain myself to you.” A pause. “However, if you must know, I am simply upholding the social order.”

Sienna narrows her eyes, but accepts the explanation. “What would you have me do?”

“It is quite simple, Miss Nelson. I wish for you to testify against Lady Claes.”

Her eyes widen. “Pardon?”

Lady Flores’ lips purse into a frown. “Are you dense? I wish for you to testify against Lady Claes!”

“How on Earth does that affect the commoner?” Sienna says quietly.

“With Lady Claes off the council, the risk of reprisal decreases significantly.” Her frown deepens. “I’m sure you’re aware of how she’s been protecting her.”

Sienna frowns. She is all too familiar with how hard it is to find the light mage travelling unescorted as of late. Yet there’s something she doesn’t understand. “What do you mean, off the council? Where would I be testifying?”

Lady Flores’ face twists into mock condescension. “Oh, you poor thing. Have you not heard? Lady Claes is under investigation for destroying council documents.” She raises a hand to her chin and smiles. “My sources tell me your name was included.”

Sienna’s blood runs cold. This is why her requests have gone unanswered? Lady Claes has been targeting her?

“Of course, no-one outside of the council and faculty is supposed to know the specifics yet,” Lady Flores continues. “Due to the timing, most of the students will not even learn of the suspension until they return from break.” She smiles. “Yet I am confident they will be asking for your testimony by the time you return.”

“You want me to betray Lady Claes?” she whispers, not meeting her eyes.

“Betray?” Lady Flores echoes, sounding genuinely confused. “Miss Nelson, it sounds more like Lady Claes has betrayed you.”

Sienna’s hands ball into fists. If what Lady Flores says is true, that does seem to be the case. To end their partnership is one thing, but to sabotage her? She is well-aware that the brunette can hold a grudge, yet after she’s done for her, this is her reward? To be stabbed in the back?

“It must be infuriating, Miss Nelson,” Lady Flores says. “She has replaced you. She has even elevated a commoner above you. Elevated her above us all.”

Sienna nods. It is infuriating. She had not realized she could ever hate something so much. How dare she hold herself above them? How dare she treat them as her inferiors, just because of the circumstances of her birth?

“So, Miss Nelson.” She extends a hand. “Do we have an understanding?”

“I understand,” Sienna says softly. She reaches out to the noblewoman.

Lady Flores’ expression darkens as Sienna pushes her hand away.

When Sienna looks up at her, her caramel eyes are filled with anger. “I understand that the only one I can rely on is myself.”

“What is the meaning of this?” Lady Flores hisses.

“Do you think me an idiot? Do you expect me to participate in such an obvious ploy?”

The noblewoman’s violet eyes slide over to her, filled with rage.

Sienna’s arms are taut with anger. “You don’t want a partner. You want a patsy. When the dust has settled, you will allow the blame to fall on me. All you and Lady Claes have proven to me is that I cannot trust anyone who claims to be my benefactor.”

The noblewoman’s purple eyes bore into her. “You impudent brat.” She takes a step toward Sienna, raising her arm and opening her palm. Her sharp features are filled with rage. “I am a daughter of the Flores family, and I will not allow a low-ranking noble to address me that way!”

The hairs on the back of Sienna’s neck stand up as she senses the surge of mana. Her back presses against the wall, and she realizes she needs to move. As she dives to the side, heat brushes against her nape. Her eyes widen as she sees the source: a trail of flame soaring past her head.

She drops to the ground, rolling on her back to face her attacker.

Flames dance in Lady Flores’ palms as she looms over her. “Perhaps your time by Lady Claes’ side has caused you to forget your place, Miss Nelson. I will not tolerate you ignoring it any longer. You are not the daughter of a duke. Do you understand? You are different from Katarina Claes.”

Sienna grimaces. “I already know that…”

The black-haired fire mage swirls her hands around her, the fire growing larger as she prepares another attack. “Then show it in your attitude!”

The blonde throws her arms in front of her, and the flames lick harmlessly against the transparent shield that appears before her in a flash of magic. Sienna grits her teeth as she feels it yank against her mana.

The flames in her attacker’s palms go out as her eyes widen, then narrow. “A shield spell? So you have enough magic to protect yourself.”

She tries to rise to her feet and attack, but her shaking hands aren’t cooperating as she crouches behind her shield. Already, her vision is swimming.

“Yet both your magic power and lineage are second-rate. How pitiful.” Lady Flores says, waving a finger as flames gather around her. Her voice drops low. “Oh well. Since I am so kind, I will thoroughly teach you where you stand compared to me.”

Sienna cries out as the next attack shatters the shield to pieces. The resulting draw on her mana sends her falling onto her back as the flame arcs over her head. Her face stings as the flames lick past, and the bright flame leaves streaks in her already blurry vision. She instinctively raises her arms and closes her eyes as she prepares for the next attack.

“Yet even then, it appears I still overestimated you.”

Sienna peeks an eye open, seeing the black-haired woman scowling at her, her vision still discolored from the bright light of the flames.

“What do you want?” she squeaks.

“For you to learn your place.”

“You…” she shakes her head. “You wouldn’t dare injure another noble…”

“Injure you? How barbaric do you think I am, Miss Nelson?” She brings her glowing palms together, a blaze growing between them. “No. This will simply be a very painful lesson.”

Sienna cries out as fire fills her vision.

The streetlamps spark to life as returns to the dormitory building. She tries to ignore the flame dancing within each.

Her skin stings as a twilight gust blows through the abandoned path, patches of pink discoloration covering her arms and back. Tears drip from her left eye. She can’t open her right; the lashes seem to have fused together.

She pushes open the door, gritting her teeth as her arm protests the movement. As it does, she comes face to face with the last person she wants to see.

The blonde’s blue eyes widen. “You’re injured.”

She wipes a singed sleeve against her good eye, and pushes past her, ignoring her entirely. As she continues walking, there’s a sudden tingling sensation in her chest. She pays it no mind until her right eye flies open, and the pain of her mangled skin fades away.

She stops and looks over her shoulder just in time to see the glow fade from the light mage’s palms. An uncertain smile crosses her face. “There. Do you feel better?”

Sienna looks down at the floor, arms shaking. In that moment, she finally understands the truth of Lady Claes’ parting words.

“I should not have expected anything different from a worthless person like you.”

Lady Claes is right. She was a fool to believe otherwise. The only thing good about her is her title, and even that is second-rate.

She flinches as a hand lands on her shoulder, but the expected pain doesn’t come. The skin is healthy now, after all.

“Are you okay?” the peasant asks. “I… know we’re not on good terms, but—”

“Get your filthy hand off me.”

The commoner’s eyes widen, and her smile fades. “W-What?”

Sienna bats her hand away, turning to her with a snarl. “Do not touch me, peasant!”

The light mage clasps her hands together, averting her eyes. “I-I’m sorry, I just thought—”

“What? That we’re friends now? I didn’t ask to be healed, you know!”

Her eyes flit back to her. “I don’t understand. I was just trying to help.”

“I don’t need the help of a commoner,” Sienna spits, “and I most certainly do not need one’s pity.”

The blonde goes silent, averting her eyes.

“You are not special just because you were born with light magic, or because you stand by Lady Claes,” she growls. “Learn your place!”

The light mage doesn’t say a word.

Sienna walks away in a huff, heading to her dormitory room. She no longer needs the salve she’d returned for, but she continues on her former route simply to put as much distance between her and the commoner as possible.

She doesn’t look back when she hears the door open and shut behind her. Nor does she acknowledge the tear running down her cheek.

They all have their place in life. She should learn hers.

Chapter Text

“Welcome home, My Lady.” The maid’s long brown hair parts from her shoulders as she bows.

“Good evening, Joana,” Katarina replies.

The servant rises to meet her, a smile crossing her lips. Though a small red necktie may adorn her neck now, Katarina can still remember when she was but a lowly scullery maid.

“I trust the journey found you well?” Joana asks, gesturing her forwards.

Katarina grimaces. Certainly, it has been nice to go without Keith staring daggers at her for several hours in a cramped carriage, but it’s beyond obvious that some sort of threshold has been crossed at the council meeting for him to make his distaste so public and so clear.

Joana seems to recognize Katarina’s discomfort, glancing out the still-open door before looking back at her with a forced smile. “Ah. Well, I hope your studies are going well, My Lady.”

Katarina nods as she steps through the doorway into the marble entrance hall of Claes Manor, when another servant strides out of the hall with a platter in her hands. The maid glances at the two, to the shaking china in her hands, and then grinds to a halt, frantically spinning to face them.

“M-My Lady!” she yelps. The platter in her hands clatters to the ground as she dives into a bow, only to immediately jump back to attention at the sound of smashing china. “A-Apologies, My L-Lady.”

Katarina’s befuddlement quickly turns to anger. Of all the unprofessional…!

“Isabel!” another voice shouts.

“A-Ah! Duchess Claes!”

As Katarina looks past the head maid’s shoulder, her mother comes into view, wearing an intimidating glare as she descends down the staircase at the center of the room. “Clean that up immediately.”

“Y-Yes, Your Grace!” the maid nods, looking frantically around the hall.

“And the next time this happens, it will be coming out of your salary. Am I clear?”

“A-Absolutely, Your Grace!” the servant shouts, seeming to finally settle on a direction before quickly running off.

Mother sighs and grabs her head, pausing halfway down the stairway as she closes her eyes and massages her temples. “Joana, I am at my wit’s end with that one.”

“I’ll have a talk with her, Your Grace,” Joana replies. “I think she just needs more time to adjust.”

The duchess opens a single eye, looking at the head maid skeptically. “She’s not going the right way, is she?”

Joana grimaces, shaking her head. “I… do not believe so, Your Grace.”

There’s a long pause. “She’s lucky you vouched for her.” Shaking her head, she resumes her journey down the stairs, turning her gaze toward her daughter. “I apologize for that, Katarina. When did you arrive?”

Katarina dips her head in acknowledgement. “Just now, Mother. Anne is out fetching my items from the carriage.”

“Shall I assist her, Your Grace?”

“You may, Joana,” Mother states, her deep blue dress trailing across the red carpet as she reaches the landing.

The head maid nods, curtsies, and brushes past Katarina as she heads out the front door.

Mother sighs, high heels clicking against the marble floor as she approaches. “When Keith arrived before you…” She sighs, shaking her head. “Never-mind. What happened?”

Katarina clenches her teeth as the memory resurfaces. “Keith refused to take the same carriage as I. While I could have pressed the issue, Anne convinced me it was more expedient to rent another for him.”

“That little upstart!” Mother gasps, halting just before her. “Treating my daughter like that…”

“He has been positively awful at the academy,” Katarina frowns, crossing her arms. “I do not know what has gotten into him.”

Mother sighs, shaking her head. “I would talk to your father, but I do not expect him to be any more willing to resolve this issue than in the past.” Then, almost under her breath, she adds, “Not that I should expect anything else from him…”

For a moment, Katarina is tempted to ask what she means, but she holds back, recognizing the question as improper. “I have been limiting my interaction with him as much as possible, but it is difficult to do with my position on the council.”

Mother looks up and blinks, as if suddenly remembering something. “So that is true, then? You are on the council?”

Katarina nods confidently. “Yes, Mother. It has been…” she hesitates for a moment “…interesting.”

A small smile plays across her mother’s red lips, blue eyes warming with pride. “That’s my daughter! I knew you would blossom into a wonderful young noblewoman eventually!”

Katarina’s lips tug downwards at her remark. Eventually? Is she not a wonderful noblewoman already? Has she not taken her mother’s lessons to heart? Even if she had been more… flexible in their application as of late, she had not suffered through fifteen years of dull etiquette lessons out of sheer passion for being lectured and criticized for the tiniest deviations. Still, in response to the ostensible compliment, she bows her head slightly as decorum dictates. “Thank you, Mother.”

“To be quite honest, I had heard the news much earlier, but I could not believe it. My Katarina? On the Council? Darling, I am so proud of you!”

“Thank you, Mother,” she repeats, a harder edge to her voice this time.

“Oh, and Prince Gerald must be so pleased! I am certain he swept you off your feet upon hearing the news!”

Katarina looks back up at her, feeling the edges of her lips tug in amusement. ”He was… taken aback when I placed higher than him, yes.”

Mother’s smile fades into confusion as she tilts her head. “Placed higher than… That was true as well?”

The Claes daughter can barely fight back the smirk tugging at her lips. “It appears he underestimated me.”

Yet Mother’s expression remains concerned as she leans in and lowers her voice slightly. “Katarina, you did not… cheat, did you?”

The smirk fades, instantly replaced by a scowl. “I did not cheat.” There was no rule against what she’d done after all, and it’s not like she’d had all the answers in her head. She’d just had more time to study, and knew what topics to concentrate on. It still wasn’t easy, so obviously it was justified. Besides, what hope does she have against the genius prince otherwise?

Mother seems somewhat unsatisfied at Katarina’s response as she pulls away, but doesn’t press the matter further, instead bringing a finger to her chin as she glances to the side of the entrance hall. “With all the strange rumors I had heard, I had assumed most them to be unreliable, but…” she glances sideways at her daughter, eyes filled with questioning intent “…I believe we will need to talk more later.”

Katarina freezes in place, eyes going wide as her heartbeat resounds in her ears. “O-Of course, Mother.”

Katarina’s steps echo through the luxurious halls of Claes Manor as morning sunlight filters through the windows.

She is home.

She is happy to be home.

She makes her way past the servants and maids, blue summer dress swishing with each stride. The feel is different. Unfamiliar. Part of her thinks she needs the change in routine, but another part of her wants to keep wearing her usual white-and-blue get-up. Not that it matters. The summer will be quiet. She knows she doesn’t receive any visitors.

Not that she minds the quiet.

It’s been a day or two since she arrived back at the manor, and she’s quickly fallen back into old routine. Wake up, bathe, be dressed, eat breakfast, walk around the gardens, find something to pass the time, eat lunch, find something else to pass the time, eat dinner, be undressed, find a final thing to pass the time, go to sleep.

On a positive note, she finished Sophia and the Emerald Princess last night. On a negative note, she finished Sophia and the Emerald Princess last night. Now she’s not quite sure what to do.

Her homework is an option. She will have to deal with it eventually. Yet after weeks upon weeks of studying so hard she fell asleep to dreams of spell-circles and magical theory… Well, can’t she be forgiven for wanting to take a break? Whether it is memorizing the annals of Sorciéran history or learning the intricacies of channeling raw elemental magic into ever-more-complex spells, it is already a miracle she hasn’t burnt out already. If not for her bet with Gerald, she probably would have.

She allows herself a smirk as she continues down the hall. Oh, it would be so rich to see that handsome face twisted in confusion again. Yet she can’t help but frown the longer she dwells on it. She knows it won’t happen. The fact she beat him the first time was as much due to his own complacency as her own preparation. Also, as much as she hates to admit it, a bit of luck. A repeat performance was vanishingly unlikely. And… If he really had been sincere…

She shakes her head and steps into the solarium, feeling the warmth of the sun on her skin as she walks up to the glass and looks out at the garden. The intricate, vast landscapes are breathtaking as always. Always to be viewed. Always to be appreciated. Never to be interacted with. Not since she was a child.

She is happy.

She tries to ignore her reflection staring back at her.

She can’t.

She closes her eyes and sighs, resting her forehead in the palm of her hand. To think she actually misses going to the place where she dies! It’s beyond idiotic! Perhaps she deserves her fate, if this is any guide to her stunning lack of self-preservation!

Yet, it’s only now, far away from them all, that she even thinks of it that way. In yet another condemnation of her chances of survival, it'd been surprisingly easy to forget her situation as the semester went on. True, things are different, but are they different enough? More importantly, is she willing to bet her life on it?

She hates being like this. She hates how quiet it is. How stiff it is. How it makes her spend so much time in her own head. It all used to be so much simpler. She was Katarina Claes! She had what was rightfully hers, and if anyone tried to take it from her, she ground them beneath her boot! She was confident, commanding, and…

…Unhappy. Even then.

Katarina clenches her teeth and throws down her arms in frustration. She has to get out of her head! She needs something, anything else to think about right now!

She rushes over to the door and throws it open, feeling a warm summer breeze as her sandals clack against the cobblestone and the door creaks shut behind her. She moves quickly, putting as much distance between the manor and herself as possible.

The grass is quite green today. Good, the groundskeeper is doing his job. The birds are chirping as well. Were they always so loud? Actually, did they chirp like that at all? Father has a bit of a fascination with the things, so maybe he'd know? She'll gladly listen to him explain the excruciating minutiae of each. In fact, she’s suddenly decided that banal details are quite intriguing indeed! Say, that tree with the crooked trunk is peculiar! And the staff missed a branch trimming that hedge! And that stone in the pathway ahead is a brighter color than the ones around it! It must be… much… newer…

Katarina stops, eyes fixed on the mismatched stone. It’s a dark gray compared to the stained brown of its brethren. She glances to her sides, taking in the delicately tended hedge garden. They’re all so much shorter than she remembers.

Her chest twists. This feels wrong. She hasn’t been here since…

Her breathing quickens. She reaches to her chest, pressing her hand to her heart. Yet the moment merely reminds of her of the gaping wound that should be there, the pain that should be screaming through her body.

She closes her eyes and clenches her teeth. No, no, no! That didn’t happen here! That was later! The rational part of her brain screams in frustration, trying to remind her of the difference between the two experiences, but it’s drowned out by her heart beating in her ears.

She clenches her fists, takes a shuddering breath, and waits for the feeling to pass.

In a way, she had died that day, hadn’t she? Prince Gerald had not killed her there, but the scar she leveraged into an engagement… Well, she knows how that story ended. Or perhaps how it ends.

“My Lady?” says an unfamiliar voice. “Are you alright?”

She opens her eyes, revealing a man in a groundskeeper outfit. Mortified, she flushes. “Y-Yes, I'm fine,” she lies. Why has she become so weak?

The groundskeeper seems unconvinced, and as he glances at the path beneath her feet, his eyes dawn with comprehension. “I see. My Lady, I ‘ave quite the floral arrangement for you. Would you like to come and see it?”

She nods quickly, ready to leave this accursed place, and feels relieved as the hedge garden disappears behind her.

“What’s your name?” Katarina eventually asks.

“Thomas, but people around ‘ere just call me Tom.”

There’s a long period of quiet as she looks him over. He seems… familiar, somehow.

“Well… Thank you, Tom.”

He looks at her, brown eyes wide.

“F-For showing me the flowers, I mean.”

His expression morphs into a smile, and he pauses to bow. “It’s no trouble at all, My Lady. I ‘ope they'll relax your mind a bit.”

Katarina frowns at his wide grin. He seems a little too happy. “You missed a hedge back there.”

His eyes go wide once more. “I did?”

She can’t suppress a smirk as he looks back over his shoulder.

The floral arrangement is indeed quite grand. It’s a circle of intermixed colors, patterned into sections, made up of many different varieties of flower. Some tall, some small, some vibrant, some dull. Yet the composition was far more than the sum of its parts. Katarina found it absolutely breathtaking.

“I ‘ave to replant them every year, ‘cos they can’t make it through winter,” Tom explains. “Takes a couple weeks to see the sprouts and even know if I've done ‘em right. If not, I ‘ave to dig them up and start over again.”

Katarina nods, unable to tear her eyes away from the mix of colors and varieties. She'd seen something like this before. “It reminds me of Lady Hunt's garden.”

Tom turns to her, a confused expression on his face. “Oh, is that one of your noble friends?”

She grimaces, glancing at him as she continues to face the arrangement. “’Friends’ is putting it… strongly. But I know of her.”

Tom grins sheepishly, making a placating gesture. “Ah, apologies for presuming, My Lady.”

Katarina nods, returning her focus to the display before her. “I had no idea so much work went into things like this. It’s honestly quite impressive.”

“You flatter me, My Lady.”

She shakes her head. “I'm quite serious. You should take pride in it.”

“Well, thank you kindly, Lady Claes.”

They talk for a while longer. Tom explaining the intricacies of his work as Katarina sits quietly and takes it in. This is not at all the kind of diversion she’d been expecting, yet she finds the talk of different soil types and fertilizers strangely captivating. She would never deign to lower herself to working the soil like a commoner… but flowers are an acceptable hobby among noblewomen, aren’t they?

Eventually, however, the groundskeeper is forced to return to his work, and she bids him farewell as she returns to her walk across the Manor grounds, this time keeping a good distance between her and the hedge gardens. She turns over the image of the floral display again and again in her mind.

Yet her thoughts are interrupted as she looks up from the path and realizes just how far she’s wandered. Claes Manor is much smaller in the distance now, and she feels a strange sense of liberation as she looks back at it. Out here, it’s just her and the earth.

Her eyes widen. Wait. That’s an idea…

She glances down at her feet, smirking at the grass at the edge of the path. She closes her eyes and extends her hands, letting her palms face the earth below.

A warm wind blows past her summer dress. Her toes shift slightly in their sandals. She tunes those sensations out, focusing solely on her connection to the earth below. It pulls on her even now, keeping her tethered; grounded. All she needs to do is pull back. Yet the connection is weak; thin. If she pulls too hard, it’ll snap.

Instead, she focuses on the strand, letting her energy flow into the connection. Her textbook called it ‘communing with the earth.’ She calls it ‘terribly misleading.’ It wasn’t her fault she almost got the wrong idea when it was named that!

She sees the thread shrink in her mind’s eye, and bites her lip. No. Focus. She feels the tug of the earth, the shift of the soil. Despite their seemingly-static nature, the rock and soil are in constant motion. The ground below thrums with energy, fueled by an endless cycle of destruction and rebirth. It moves slowly, but it moves with purpose. It cannot be stopped. It cannot be slowed. The earth moves where it wishes, and grinds down anything that stands in its way.

So, instead of tugging on the strand, she tries something different. She drives it deeper, going past the soil and reaching into the depths below. She feels the warmth of the rock, the imperceptible motion grinding beneath her feet, the immense energy stored within it all. Then, carefully, she coaxes a bit of it out, drawing the stream of energy up through the broadening thread until it reaches her, whereupon she wills it to burst forth from the ground as a pillar of stone and soil.

The ground before her groans as the energy flows through her palms, and Katarina grins as she opens her eyes to gaze upon her work.

There’s a glowing bump of earth in the grass before her. It’s no taller than an inch or two.

Katarina’s eye twitches. She blinks to clear her vision. Surely, she is seeing things.

Yet when she opens her eyes, it’s still there.

She throws down her arms, and screams in frustration. She kicks at the air, and a patch of dirt and grass flies from the ground and soars into the distance.

She blinks, freezing mid-tantrum as she watches the clod of dirt and grass sail through the air and disappear beneath the horizon. She can do that? Why can she do that, but not make a taller bump in the ground? She must be doing it wrong.

She closes her eyes and tries again, stretching the strand further and further into the earth, pulling harder and harder.

Then, the thread snaps, and Katarina’s eyes fly open as she remembers what comes next. She tries to call out for help, but it comes out as little more than a hoarse whisper.

As the world begins to swim around her, Katarina feels one last bit of magic – beyond her reach - flare up within her. She doesn’t have much time to muse on it before her vision is filled by the blue sky above.

And then nothing at all.

Chapter Text

The sunlight warms Anne’s skin as she stands in the solarium.

“I’ve never seen her like this before,” says a younger maid, a petite woman with black braided hair. She must be a recent hire, as Anne can only vaguely recall seeing her before. She continues watching her charge bound through the grass in her summer dress, chatting happily to the man beside her. To see Lady Katarina practically dancing across the greenery, a wide smile on her face…

Well, even she can’t resist the tug pulling at the edge of her lips.

There are quiet footsteps behind her, as someone approaches the solarium. Anne doesn’t look back. “It’s good to see you, Joana.”

The new hire jumps at that, green eyes flicking back in fear. “G-Good afternoon, Miss Head Maid.”

“What are you two doing?” her voice booms. “I’d expect this from Isabel, but you as well, Anne?”

“M-My apologies, ma’am!” the new hire squeaks. “B-But—”

“That’s enough. Let Anne explain, Isabel.”

Anne takes a step back from the window, looks Joana in the eyes, and gestures her forward. The head maid’s features immediately shift from frustration to curiosity. The new hire shrinks back as Joana fills out the space between them.

“Oh no,” she sighs. “Has Tom done something to offend her?” Then, a pause as she leans closer to the glass. “Wait… What is she doing?”

“T-Talking, I t-think… um, ma’am.”

Her jaw parts slightly, and her hazel eyes light up. “Oh my. It seems Anne is not the only one who’s all smiles today.”

There’s a long pause as the three of them stare out through the glass, as if a single word will shatter the fragile, precious moment playing out before them.

Joana’s voice is light and breathy. “I haven’t seen her like this since…” She trails off, shaking her head. “Has she ever been like this? It feels unreal.” She turns and looks at Anne skeptically. “What happened while you two were away?”

Anne frowns slightly. What to say? That her charge is convinced she’s died and came back to life? That she has, in fact, accurately predicted multiple events before they occurred? She truly does believe Lady Katarina, yet it’s so confusing and complicated that she doesn’t even know where to start. So, she decides to tell the truth. “She grew up.”

The head maid purses her lips as her gaze returns to the young noblewoman, now utterly entranced by a patch of colorful flowers. “You think so? It reminds me more of how she used to act around me, if I’m honest.”

A scullery maid with a green sash. The sweet scent of cookie dough wafting through the air.

“More! More!” her young charge cries, crumbs lining her face.

The scullery maid laughs nervously. “Oh, Lady Claes, I don’t think I should. Your mother would be upset with me.”

The brunette pouts, crossing her arms. “I don’t care! Make me more!”

The scullery maid looks to her for support.

Anne is silent.

“Well… if you say so, Lady Claes.”

Anne shakes her head, brushing away the images. “You used to make her those cookies,” Anne says softly. It is not a question. She’d forgotten what Katarina had said until now.

Joana chuckles softly. “She was so demanding, even back then. Tearing me away from my duties no matter what I was doing at the time…” Yet as Joana turns back to the scene playing out in the gardens, she smiles. “I guess I kind of miss it, though. Her eyes would always light up when she saw me…”

Anne recalls the enthusiasm with which Katarina had consumed the heart-shaped cookies that commoner girl had given Katarina before they left. Did Katarina always have a sweet tooth, or did her love of sweets stem from those memories? She frowns and shakes her head. Perhaps she’s overthinking the matter.

Besides, she remembers something else from that day.

A woman in rags. Tears running from down her face as she hands away her maid uniform.

The moment she leaves the room, one of the other servants erupts in a fury. “How could you do this, Janice!? Christina needed this job more than any of us!”

The old head maid averts her eyes. Her voice shakes as she speaks. “Believe me, I take no pleasure in this.”

“Then why!? You know it was an accident! She’s worked her for years, and you fire her because she broke a single teacup!?”

The gray-haired woman finally looks up at her, sadness in her eyes. “The young mistress ordered it. I cannot defy her.”

Anne, again, is silent.

Anne’s chest tightens at that recollection. Not from the fear she’d felt that day, at the possibility of returning home to Father empty-handed, but… something else. An emotion she can’t quite name.

“How is Lord Claes?” Joana says after a moment, perhaps sensing her discomfort. “I haven’t seen him since he arrived.”

Anne pushes down the sudden surge of emotion. “I believe he is in his room.”

“Oh,” she replies, disappointment evident in her voice. “I see.”

Anne can’t blame her. It was a hope she shared as well.

“A-Are they at least on b-better terms?”

This time, she can’t push it down fully. “No.” She shakes her head and sighs. “If anything, they’re even more antagonistic than before.”

There’s a long pause after that.

“I… did not think that was p-possible,” says Isabel, voice cracking.

Joana, in contrast, is stoic, a grim determination on her features. “If no-one sees him, I’ll make sure to have someone bring him food,” she sighs. “I don’t know what we’ll do if he stops eating again…”

“Please keep me informed as usual, Joana.”

“Of course, Anne.”

“P-Perhaps I should go c-check on the kitchen?” says Isabel. “M-Make sure they have something ready…”

“You may,” Joana says, pursing her lips. “Please let me know if there is anything requiring my attention.”

The black-haired mad bows. “O-Of course, ma’am.” She walks off quickly, disappearing into the manor halls.

“I hadn’t expected her to volunteer so readily,” Anne states, more than a little surprised.

Joana turns to her, eyes narrowed in confusion. After a moment, she begins to laugh. “Right.” She shakes her head, turning away. “I almost forgot how much of a consummate professional you are.”

Anne cocks an eyebrow, but before she can say anything, notices Joana staring at something over her shoulder.

“Anne?” she says, voice straining. “Where did Lady Claes go?”

The morning sun filters through the curtains, illuminating the blue wallpaper in diffuse white light. Keith’s quill scratches against paper, pausing briefly as he glances between the open spell book and his assignment. The work is a welcome distraction from his current location. He’ll have to find some other way to pass the time once he completes it. But it’s better than thinking about her. Better than thinking about what she did.

Something rips, and he glances down to see that the quill has torn a hole in the paper. Sighing, he leans forward, placing his elbows on the desk and cradling his head between his arms as he massages his temples. He hates knowing she has so much power over how he feels. When did it become so hard to keep himself in check? Why is it so much harder to ignore her now?

He raises his head, narrowing his eyes. No. He’s not going to let her ruin this as well. He drops the quill on the desk, presses his palm into the page, closes his eyes as he lets a trickle of magic flow through it, and shapes the restoration spell with a muttered incantation. Lifting his hand, he reaches over to the discarded quill, picks it up, and returns to his work, letting the topic’s minutia wash away the unpleasant thoughts. By the time his stomach groans, the long morning shadows have shortened. It must be noon.

He places the quill to the side, and presses against his desk, pushing out his chair with a grunt as he stretches his arms and legs. He takes a deep breath and sighs. Time to fetch lunch.

He walks toward the bedroom door, feeling a lurch in his chest as his fingers wrap around the cold metal key. He sighs before inhaling; closing his eyes as he twists the key and hears the lock mechanism click. Opening his eyes, he grabs the handle, and pulls the door open.

He shields his eyes as he walks into the hallway, eyes taking a moment to adjust to the bright sunlight streaming through the large, curtainless windows. The smell of food drifts through the air, making his hunger grow even more ravenous. He turns around, removing the key from the inside of the door before shutting it. A moment later, he inserts it in the front, and hears the mechanism lock once more. Pocketing the key, he begins down the hallway, avoiding eye contact with the various servants and maids as the smell of food grows even thicker in the air.

He can hear clinking silverware and low conversation as he nears the dining room. The delicious aroma begins to dissipate as he passes by the hallway leading down to it, not sparing a glance.

The activity surrounding him begins to dissipate as he walks further away. He’s taking a circuitous route to the kitchen, and thus, these hallways are rather desolate at this time of day.

As he rounds the corner, loud conversation carries through the air, and Keith pauses as he turns toward their source.

Servants crowd the hall, dirt tracked through a nearby open door. A maid with short brown hair and a blue necktie – Katarina’s personal maid, he realizes – and the head maid, Joana, are both carrying something with the assistance of several other servants.

It’s the limp form of Katarina, covered in mud and dirt.

He watches. They’re not panicking. Sure, there’s conversation and yelling and shouting as several extraneous servants are shocked out of their stupor and take off running down the hallways to alert others, but there is no terror, no immediacy. This is a worrying event, but not one that requires immediate decisive action. After all, she appears to be unwounded, and he can see the subtle rise and fall of her chest. She’s dirty, but unharmed.

He looks at her once more, turns around, and heads back to his room. This isn’t his problem.

Facing the other way, he doesn’t notice the golden-brown eyes of Katarina’s personal maid widen in shock.

Katarina sits up in the sheets, looking around the room with bleary eyes. A faint glow emanates from behind the curtains, as birds chirp in the distance. She rubs the back of her head, still feeling dizzy. Is it still morning?

She rubs her eyes and looks to her left. Anne is there, eyes closed and head lopsided as her chest rises and falls. A book sits in her lap. Something about crime in Sorciér? She has to look twice to be certain.

Then, she settles back into the bed, and tries to gather her thoughts. The last thing she remembers was trying to…

She cautiously raises a hand. She can still feel the earth thrumming in her fingertips. She frowns a moment later, letting it drop onto the comforter. Of course. It happened again. She dove too deep, and burnt herself out. Why is it that Keith makes it look so easy?

…Well, she actually knows the answer to that question now. It has to do with a mage’s core and the strength of their connection to their base element. The knowledge of her fundamental limitations doesn’t make her any more pleased with them.

She grunts as she reaches over and pulls over the sheets. The bed creaks and shakes as she slides off the end, stumbling as her bare feet thump into the cool wooden floor. Her arms flail around as she regains her balance, and she has to brace herself on the bedframe until the world stops spinning.

She didn’t have symptoms like this at all last time. Part of her wishes Maria were here to magic the discomfort away again, but she’s not. After all, Katarina is home. Among her family.

So very far from her friends.

She starts to sigh, but it turns into a choke as two arms wrap around her and squeeze. She looks over her shoulder at her assailant, only to find Anne’s contented face. In spite of herself, she can’t help but mimic the expression.

Well, perhaps not far from all of them.

“Look, look, Anne! Look at my drawing!” The little girl proudly holds up a bunch of scribbled paper, droplets of ink messily spilled across its surface. “I drew me!”

“Lady Claes,” she sighs, “you are supposed to be working on your handwriting.”

The girl’s smile falls. “But it’s a drawing of you too!”

She blinks. “I… it is?” She should tell her to focus, like Duchess Claes does. To guide her back to her studies. “Can you explain it to me?” she says instead, stepping closer. The words come unbeckoned, but…

The noble girl’s eyes light up at that. “That’s you,” she says, pointing at a mass of indeterminate scribbles, “and that’s me!”

“I… see, Lady Claes.” Something strange wells up in her chest. “And… Why am I in the picture?”

She rolls her eyes, as if that’s the dumbest question she’s ever heard. “You’re always at my side, so you have to be!”

“I do?”

An uncharacteristically gentle smile plays across the young lady’s face. “Yeah… I mean… it wouldn’t be right, otherwise… Would it?”

As Anne looks at the scribbled mess between in front of her, there’s no doubt in her mind that it’s the most precious object in the whole world.

“No, Lady Claes. No, it wouldn’t.”

Chapter Text

Mother and Father both question her for some time after the incident. Katarina can’t bear to admit how pitiful her magic ability is, so she simply tells them it was a spell gone wrong. It is not completely untrue, after all.

After that, things return to normal, and Katarina finds time dragging on even more slowly than before. At one point, she’d even grown so desperate for diversion that she’d stayed in her room all day to work on her summer assignments. The irony in regards to Keith does not escape her.

She stares up at the ceiling and sighs, feeling the bed creak beneath her as she lies on the comforter, fully-dressed.

If only something interesting would happen today.

Sophia tries to steady her breathing as she steps out of the carriage and finds herself standing in front of the imposing Claes Manor. The beautiful mansion is even larger than she’d imagined, and the imposing marble façade makes her feel even smaller than she already does.

She feels her brother’s hand squeeze hers tightly as he disembarks after her, and she takes a deep breath, steadying her nerves. Though the guards at the gate had seemed confused, they’d let them in. That’s already further than they made it with the other ‘invitations.’ It’s too early to panic.

Turning to Nicol and nodding, the two of them begin the walk up the stone path and climb a few steps to the doorway. Hands already jittery and with height being… not her strong suit, Nicol reaches up and grabs the metal knocker, hitting it against the door twice A few moments later, the door creaks ajar and a woman with black braided hair pokes her head through the crack.

“C-Can I help you?” she stutters.

Even the jittering servant doesn’t compare to the anxiety Sophia’s feeling now, so thankfully Nicol takes care of that as well. “My sister and I are here to see Lady Katarina. She invited her for a book reading.”

The maid glances side to side, biting her lip. “A-Are you sure it was today? I wasn’t told she was expecting any visitors.”

Sophia feels an all-too-familiar sinking feeling. Another prank? Or did the lady simply get cold feet? Both make her chest hurt, but she desperately wants to believe it’s a misunderstanding.

Her brother’s hand shakes slightly, and she squeezes it tightly to calm him.

“No, that’s fine,” he says smoothly, despite the anger she knows he’s feeling. “We must’ve been mistaken.”

The messy-haired servant locks eyes with them for a moment. “P-Perhaps she’s simply forgotten? I can g-go check for you if—”

“That won’t be necessary,” Nicol states. “Come along, Sophia.”

Yet as Nicol turns to descend back down the steps, something gives Sophia pause. Is this really another cruel prank?

“A-Actually,” Sophia interjects, turning to lock eyes with the maid. “I’d appreciate it, Miss…?”

“D-Dean,” the servant nods quickly. “I-Isabel Dean. P-Please wait here.”

The door shuts a moment later, followed immediately by panicked footsteps.

Nicol looks at her, frowning slightly. She shakes her head and offers a weak smile in response, and he sighs before moving back into position, facing the door by her side. They wait there for a while, the anxiety buzzing in her chest even as birds chirp peacefully in the distance.

Suddenly, a muffled shout echoes from behind the door, causing Sophia’s heart to leap from her chest. A moment later, there’s the panicked clacking of boots against tiles.

She realizes what’s happening a moment before the footsteps reach the door, and her heart sinks. The maid must have gone to Lady Katarina, and subsequently been informed in no uncertain terms that the cursed freak is not to be allowed inside under any circumstances. In a moment, a much paler Miss Dean will crack the door open and politely ask them to leave.

She closes her eyes as the door swings back, not wanting to see it come true.

“Sophia?” pants Lady Katarina.

Sophia’s eyes fly open, seeing the very out-of-breath noble lady staring at her in the doorway.

“P-Pardon me…” she says, bracing herself against the door as she continues to breath rapidly. “I… forgot it was… today…”

The maid arrives behind her a moment later, none worse for wear. “L-Lady Katarina, are you alright?”

“Please… fetch me some water.” she pants, nodding weakly.

The servant nods, before running off into the manor behind them.

“Come in,” Lady Katarina says weakly, gesturing Nicol and Sophia through the open door.

Katarina greedily sips from the cup the maid hands to her, abandoning all manners as she enjoys the sensation of the cold water rushing down her throat.

The white-haired girl cautiously sits across from her. Despite her smile, her red eyes dart across the parlor room as she hugs the book to her chest.

“I will be in the study if you need me,” Lord Ascart says, eyes trailing across the two before moving to the doorway.

For a moment, Katarina feels a bit guilty. Coming all this way just to read alone? Then she remembers the way he squeezed her shoulder, and the guilt immediately fades. At least he has the decency to know where he’s not wanted.

Both maid and noble file out of the parlor, leaving the two ladies alone together as the wooden doors close. Having gotten her fill of water, Katarina places down her cup on the table between the two, suppressing a satisfied sigh as she smiles at Sophia. The younger Ascart smiles back, but says nothing.

An awkward feeling begins to pervade the interaction as the two continue to stare at each other, and Katarina’s smile begins to strain as the silence drags on. Resolving to break the silence, she says the first thing that comes to mind.

“Your eyes are really pretty.”

They go wide at the remark, and the girl leans back slightly, lips coming apart slightly.

Katarina grimaces as she once again curses her poor choice of words. This time she doesn’t even have the excuse of getting mixed up with the book character. Such obvious flattery is a terrible way to start a conversation. It makes one look desperate and insincere. Mother taught her that.

“W-What I meant to say was that I hope the journey went well,” Katarina stammers.

Sophia seems to relax slightly. “Our manor isn’t too far from here. It was a short trip.”

There is once again silence as Katarina struggles to keep the conversation going. “It is good to hear your trip was not too difficult. I hope you enjoy your visit here.”

Sophia glances away, pulling the book closer to her chest. “Thank you, Lady Katarina.”

The conversation once again sputters out.

Katarina struggles to keep up her smile as she begins to panic.

“I now call to order this meeting of the Katarina Claes death avoidance committee!”

The assembled Katarinas sit across from each other as the meeting begins.

“Aren’t we the death avoidance committee?” says the glasses-wearing Katarina, glaring at Chairman Katarina. “I’m not seeing any death to be avoided.”

“It is a social death!” cries out Haughty Katarina, clutching her chest and leaning back in her padded chair. “We must find a way to bring an end to this dreadful silence at once!”

“P-Plus, S-Sophia has been really nice to us…” mutters Timid Katarina, wringing her hands anxiously.

“Order! Order!” cries Chairman Katarina, slamming her gavel against the table.

“Oh, great! Who gave that back to her?” hisses Angry Katarina.

In response, Chairman Katarina leans in and lightly taps it against her head.

“Gah!” she yells, trying and failing to swipe it from her mustached adversary. “I want a new seat!”

“Your request for a transfer is heard and denied,” replies Chairman Katarina, settling back into her seat. “Now then, please return to the topic at hand.”

Angry Katarina rubs her head as she gestures to the other personality aspects. “Is this really necessary? How long has it been since we convened, anyway?”

Studious Katarina adjusts her glasses. “Well, technically, we’ve never convened at all. We're just a clever literary metaphor used to personify the abstract concept of thought.”

She and the rest of the council blink at once as the room suddenly shudders.

“Whoa. Just got a weird sense of déjà vu. What were we talking about?”

“Our impending social death,” mutters the Katarina slumped against the table. At least it’s metaphorical this time…”

“Can anyone focus?” shouts Timid Katarina. “Sophia helped us feel better! Shouldn’t we try and do the same?” The uncharacteristic outburst brings all eyes to the personality aspect, and her blue eyes widen as she slinks back into her chair. “I-I mean… I-If you want to.”

There’s a moment of silence as the other aspects bear down on her, eyes narrowed in thought. Even Depressed Katarina raises her head from the table to give a half-hearted stare.

“She does raise a good point,” Haughty Katarina eventually says, flipping out her fan. “Sophia may be cursed, but she is undoubtedly our ally. What example would we be setting if we did not try and reach out to her in return?”

“Her hair is so pretty!” giggles Excitable Katarina. “I want to touch it!”

“She’s going to think we’re strange if you keep making us say things like that,” grimaces Studious Katarina.

“She probably already does,” whines Depressed Katarina. “No wonder she doesn’t want to talk to us…”

“Why are we so bad at this?” growls Angry Katarina. “Didn’t we see the harlot with her a few times in the previous life? If she can do this, so can we!”

“What’s the point? We already know we can’t stack up to her…”

“We can and we will,” shouts Angry Katarina.

Studious Katarina glares at them both. “Can we please stay on topic?”

Excitable Katarina sticks out her tongue. “You’re no fun!”

Depressed Katarina just groans.

Studious Katarina removes her glasses and closes her eyes as she massages her forehead. “This is going nowhere…”

“Just tell her what you think of the book!” replies Excitable Katarina.

Everyone at the table turns to the smiling aspect.

“You are all overthinking it. She came here to read with us, so let’s read with her!”

“We are supposed to open with an unrelated topic,” Haughty Katarina states, waving her fan. “It is rude to do otherwise.”

“Do you actually like doing that, though? It bores me to tears.”

Haughty Katarina glances away, hiding her scowl behind her fan.

“That might actually work,” Studious Katarina says, sliding back on her glasses.

“Oh! Maybe we can also tell her how pretty her skin is!” smiles Excitable Katarina. “And her eyes!”

“We already said that,” Angry Katarina mutters.

“Well… It’s still true!”

Chairman Katarina rolls her eyes. “All those in favor of Excitable Katarina’s original proposal?”

“Aye!”

Everyone at the table raises their hand. Even, begrudgingly, Haughty Katarina.

“The motion passes.” Chairman Katarina brings down her gavel.

“Ow!” cries Angry Katarina.

Katarina takes a deep breath, and smiles. “Ah, the scene where Princess Emerald first meets Sophia is so beautiful!” Katarina swoons, holding the book to her chest.

The white-haired girl looks up in surprise, before the faintest wisp of smile plays out across her lips at Katarina’s obvious enthusiasm. “I-I like it too,” she murmurs.

“Hey, were you named after the Sophia in this book?” Katarina asks, suddenly leaning close.

Her red eyes widen as she shrinks away. “P-Pardon?”

The lady rocks back in her seat, making a dismissive gesture. “Well, your hair is a different color, but the way you style it…”

Sophia just continues to stare, a confused expression on her face.

Katarina’s brows furrow, smile turning awkward. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

The white-haired girl hunches over, hiding her face behind her book. “I-it’s nothing.”

Katarina’s heart falls. “It’s because you’re cursed, right?”

Sophia shifts nervously, glancing away.

“I don’t get it, though,” says Katarina, gently lifting a handful of the girl’s soft white hair. Even through the glove, she’s entranced by its gentle texture.

“N-Nicol says they’re just mean rumors spread by those jealous of our family,” the young Ascart stutters.

Katarina nods. “Makes sense. If I–” she says, pausing. “Er, I mean if someone were jealous of another, that’s what I – I mean, they – would do.” The Ascart’s crimson eyes widen in surprise, and Katarina bites back a swear. Such a delicate slip of a girl surely would not approve. “B-Besides,” Katarina stammers, quickly moving to change the subject, “that would be a pretty terrible curse.” After all, what absolute moron’s idea of punishment is gifting their enemy snowy hair, ruby eyes, and porcelain skin?

“Yes,” Lady Ascart replies, a pained expression crossing her features as she nods. “I am… truly grateful you have been willing to spend time with me, Lady Katarina.”

The brunette blinks, certain she just missed something. “I’m sorry…?”

Sophia just shakes her head before offering the noble lady a soft smile. “Please don’t be. I’m… used to it. If anything, I hope my appearance isn’t too distracting to you.”

Katarina blinks again, jaw relaxing slightly. Distracting? Certainly, the young Ascart’s appearance is eye-catching, but to phrase it that way… She laughs nervously, cheeks burning as she lets the soft strands of hair fall from her gloved hand. “I… don’t quite follow, Lady Ascart.”

Yet the young Ascart continues. “There’s no need to be circumspect, Lady Claes. It’s not like you haven’t been staring,”

“Staring?” Her cheeks burn even hotter, and her throat goes dry. “I’m not… staring.”

“It’s alright.” Her voice is a whisper as she looks at her with those deep red eyes. “I don’t mind.”

Katarina leans back slightly, one hand gripping the wooden frame of the couch as a shiver runs down her spine. What on Earth is happening right now?

“Please don’t be frightened, Lady Katarina!” Lady Ascart pleads, clasping her hands together. “I won’t think any less of you!”

A confusing whirlwind of emotions dance in her chest. Her heart beats faster for no apparent reason. What is she saying? It’s almost like—

“It means a lot to me that you’ve put up with my grotesque appearance so far!”

Katarina’s mind comes to a screeching halt. “What!?”

“I mean, ever since I saw you crying at the library, I’ve been forcing myself on you,” Lady Ascart says, glancing down at the floor. “I keep telling myself that it’s to keep you company, but really… it’s the opposite.”

Katarina just stares, eyes wide with shock, as the strange feelings melt away. That was… embarrassment. Yes. That is what she felt.  “I… don’t understand.”

“It’s hard for me to connect to people like you do, Lady Claes. You’ve made so many wonderful friends in such a short amount of time.” She shifts again, looking down in her lap. “All I did was see you crying in a library. Then, I learned you liked my book, and I tried to force a connection.” She shakes her head before looking up at Katarina, eyes now red in more ways than one. “Yet you haven’t complained or treated me like a burden, even though my appearance clearly bothers you. So… thank you.”

There’s a long pause. It takes Katarina a moment to realize she’s shaking. “Cursed, huh?” Her words come as a low growl. She feels guilty for even referring to the Ascart as such in the comfort of her own mind. She’s angry. She doesn’t quite understand why, but she’s angry. At those who would say such horrid things, at herself for thinking them, but most of all…

“Have you no pride in yourself, Lady Ascart?!”

The white-haired girl shrinks backwards into the cushions as her crimson eyes widen in astonishment. “L-Lady Katarina?”

“Do you have no pride in your birthright? Your family?”

Sophia jolts up to face her. “O-Of course, I do, Lady Claes! I just—”

“Then do you think me blind?” She points at herself. “Do you believe I am not aware of your appearance?”

She looks back down again. “N-No…”

“Then why on Earth would you offer me such pointless gratitude?” Her voice rises. “Do you really believe I choose my associates so carelessly?”

Sophia continues staring into her lap. Several moments pass. A response is not forthcoming.

Katarina sighs as she falls back into the couch, suddenly feeling drained. The white-haired girl across from her is no longer meeting her eyes. A lump forms in her throat, and she looks away.

“I… apologize for that, Sophia,” she says quietly. She tsks, shaking her head. “For what it’s worth, I sincerely doubt you’re cursed. Someone probably just spread that rumor because they were jealous.”

“J-Jealous?” Sophia’s voice is shaky.

She rolls her eyes, looking back toward the white-haired girl, now wiping her face. “Are you really going to make me spell out how beautiful you are, Sophia?”

The Ascart freezes, looking up at her in shock. “Beautiful?” Her tone is almost wistful. Then, she shakes her head. “T-That's not true, Lady Claes! Everyone stares at me in horror!”

“Or perhaps they’re staring because you’re absolutely gorgeous.” She has to resist the urge to roll her eyes again. Seriously, how dense can one girl be?

Her crimson eyes dart down. “I… realize now that you’re trying to make me feel better, Lady Katarina,” she pauses, swallowing, “but… I know that can’t be true…”

Katarina’s eyes narrow. “Are you accusing me of lying?” Her tone is warning.

Sophia looks back up, holding up her hands in a placating gesture. “N-No, Lady Claes!”

“Good. Then you should not hesitate to believe me as I call out this absolute nonsense I am hearing.” She tsks as she shakes her head. “Cursed… What kind of imbecile would cast a curse that gives their target such beautiful features?”

Sophia looks down at herself, clutching her chest. Her face softens, as she considers her words. “E-Even if you’re not lying… I know there are many who find my appearance creepy.”

“So?”

Sophia looks up, confused.

“Who cares what they think?” Katarina perks up her nose, feeling a wicked grin spread across her face as she rises from her seat. “If you’re to follow me, you must always hold your head high with pride!”

For a moment, familiar golden eyes stare up at her. When she blinks, they’re once again the Ascart’s sparkling crimson.

“I… You really think I’m beautiful, Lady Claes?”

Katarina’s smile almost falls, but she shakes off the sudden sadness before Sophia can notice the lapse. “Sophia, why would I lie to you? Are we not friends?”

The words leave her mouth without thinking. The moment she realizes, she opens her mouth to correct herself. Yet as she stares into Sophia’s red eyes… Well, ‘allies’ doesn’t feel right, does it?

And then she hears Sophia crying. As she snaps back to reality, she can see the Ascart hunched over in her seat, sobs wracking her body. Cold guilt surges through her as she nearly trips over herself rushing to her couch. “L-Lady Ascart, I—”

Sophia just holds out a hand, and lifts her head, trails of tears flanking a wide, happy, grin. “L-Lady Katarina,” she sniffles, “D-didn’t I tell you to call me Sophia?”

Before long, the two noblewomen are chatting happily again.

“She really does remind me of you. I actually kept imagining you while reading.”

Sophia glances away, cheeks reddening as she smiles. “I actually used to pretend I was the Sophia in this story. I think that was part of why I liked it so much.”

“Well, I can say why!” Katarina smiles. “The friendship she and Princess Emerald develop is so cute!”

Sophia nods rapidly. “And the kissing scene, where they declare their love—!”

Katarina squeals, hugging her own copy as she envisions it. “It’s so romantic!”

“I’m really happy you like this sort of thing, Lady Katarina!” Sophia says, a wide smile on her face. “I really love how they develop Sophia as a love interest!”

“Yes! She’s—” Katarina’s nose scrunches up in confusion. “Wait, love interest?”

There’s an awkward pause.

“Yes?” Sophia says, a bewildered smile on her face. “Lady Katarina, did you actually finish the book?”

“Of course I did!” Katarina replies, frowning. “I don’t recall anything about a love interest!”

Sophia continues to smile, though it’s now grown somewhat forced. “Well, what do you remember?”

“A beautiful story about a haughty princess befriending a gorgeous commoner!”

The tension in Sophia’s expression evaporates as she leans forward and begins to giggle.

“What’s so funny?” Katarina asks, crossing her arms as her voice pitches up in offense.

“Lady Katarina, this is a romance novel.”

“Yes, and romance novels can be about friendships!” Katarina insists.

“I’m not sure that’s true…”

The brunette shakes her head. “Friendship absolutely can be romantic! Why else would there be so many romance stories about two girls befriending each other?”

The young Ascart leans forward as she struggles to stifle her laughter. Then, suddenly, her eyes widen, and she looks up. “Wait, Lady Katarina, you’ve read other romance novels?”

Katarina blushes slightly. Once again, she’d spoken without thinking. “W-Well, I used to. When I was younger.”

Sophia’s crimson eyes seem to sparkle. “Do you remember any of them?”

The brunette chuckles nervously. “Well, it’s a bit embarrassing…”

Somewhat thankfully, at that moment, the study doors open, and Nicol steps into the room. “Pardon me, Lady Claes, but it’s getting rather late.”

Katarina blinks. “Hm? It’s not that late, is it?” She turns her head to the windows. An orange sky stares back. Her voice is a bit quieter. “Oh.”

Sophia giggles from behind. “It appears we both lost track of time, Lady Katarina…”

Her cheeks burn. “Yes, that would appear to be the case.” Where on Earth did the hours go? After taking a moment to let her embarrassment fade, she turns back to the Ascart siblings, rises from her seat, and curtsies. “It was an honor to have you over, Lady Sophia.” Unlike when she usually recites it, she means every word.

Sophia rises from her seat, returning the gesture with a smile. “The honor is all mine, Lady Katarina.” Then, she blinks, and her eyes widen in realization. “Oh! I’ll have to bring you the next book by that author, next time!”

Katarina’s heart leaps. “There’s another!?”

Sophia shakes her head. “Yes! It’s not as good as Sophia and the Emerald Princess, but it’s really good! It’s about a commoner falling in love with a prince, and rescuing him from his cruel fiancée—” She pauses, smile falling. “Uh, Katarina? You’re making a scary face…”

“Perhaps we should skip that one,” she states, voice clipped.

She swallows. “Right. W-Well… I’m sure I’ll find something.”

The genuine smile returns. “I look forward to it!”

She leads them out to the main hall and down the grand stairway, a servant opening the front door as she sees them approaching.

“A moment of your time, Lord Ascart?”

The black-haired Ascart turns around with a start, his sister stopping on the threshold of the stairway.

“What is it, Katarina?” Sophia asks.

“I need to talk to your brother about something. We won’t be long.”

She hesitates, but after a brief glance between them, nods and smiles. “Well… Okay, then. I’ll be waiting at the carriage.”

Katarina nods, smiling until the white-haired sibling is out of sight. The moment she’s out of sight, the brunette’s expression twists, and her voice drops to a hushed whisper. “I want names,” she hisses.

“Pardon?” Lord Ascart replies, voice flat as usual.

“The people who spread these horrible lies about your sister,” she growls, stepping closer to him. “I want their names.”

For a brief moment, something akin to surprise flashes across his face. Then he’s back to normal. “It’s something Gerald and I took care of a long time ago. Unfortunately, the damage has already been done.”

“Damn it,” Katarina hisses, pacing back and forth with her arms taut. “It’s not right.”

“Why do you care?” he says flatly.

Katarina spins to face him. “What do you mean, ‘why do I care?’ Your sister – my friend­ – told me how grateful she is I’d spend time with her because she thinks she’s a hideous monster! Why wouldn’t I care?”

The elder Ascart sibling just stares at her for a while. “Regardless of your motives, your concern for Sophia is… noted,” he eventually says, accompanied by an almost imperceptible softening of his features, “but there’s nothing I haven’t already tried.”

She stares at him for a long moment. “Ugh. Never-mind.” She shakes her head before turning back to the study. “Brothers...”

She’s halfway down the hall when she hears a voice call out. “Lady Claes!” She stops and looks over her shoulder.

“I…” He sighs, and bows his head. “Thank you.”

She nods curtly, before resuming her path. Not long after, she hears the door shut behind her.

Chapter Text

The crisp mountain breeze sends Katarina’s dress billowing as she steps off the carriage. She feels the edges of her lips perk up as the crisp, cool air blows past her face.

Her sandals clack against stone as she drops to the ground, following behind Mother and Father as they wind up the path to Nelson Manor. Unlike Claes manor, there are no elaborate gardens or manicured landscaping. No, the rolling hills and imposing mountains are more than gorgeous enough. Even the crops running up to the border of the imposing stone manor lend it an undeniable charm.

They do not have to knock once they ascend the stairs, for the doors are immediately thrown open by a tall, thin man. Anxiety darts across the nobleman’s face before he relaxes into a smile and bows his head, revealing a patch of graying brown hair. “Duke Claes! It’s a pleasure to have you.”

The three of them nod their heads in acknowledgment.

“Baron Nelson,” says Father, “it is good to see you.”

He slides to the side, gesturing them through the doorway. “Come in! Come in! You all must be famished!”

The noon sun disappears from view as she steps over the threshold, eyes still adjusting to the dim interior. The doors close behind her, and soon, the Baron is leading them forward.

“Now, for what do I have the pleasure of hosting your wife and daughter, Duke Claes?” His smile is genuine, but there’s an edge of confusion to his tone.

“Ah! My family and I are here to partake in your domain’s lovely scenery, Baron Nelson,” Father states. Then, almost as an afterthought, he adds, “I apologize for the confusion. I thought I had informed you?”

The Baron makes a dismissive gesture. “Oh, do not worry. The more the merrier, yes?” His smile seems a little strained, but Katarina doesn’t have much time to question it.

“Do not worry, Baron,” says Mother. “We have accommodations elsewhere.”

The Baron can hardly hide his relief, though he tries anyway. “I take it you are Duchess Millidiana Claes?” He once again bows his head as he faces Mother. “It is an honor.”

“A pleasure.” Her voice is not hostile, but her disinterest is clear.

The Baron takes the hint, and opens his mouth to move on, but stops in his tracks as his eyes glide over Katarina. “Ah, and you are Lady Katarina Claes.” He smiles. “I have heard much about you from my daughter.”

Mother shoots her a curious look at that one, but Katarina ignores it, merely returning the compliment as it was given to her. “Your lands are certainly quite scenic. I am surprised she did not speak of them.”

A sad look crosses the Baron’s face, but it’s gone a moment later. “Yes, well… Sienna has never been one to dwell on the past.” He smiles weakly. “I suppose she’s just like her mother, in that regard.”

Katarina can’t help but raise a brow at his remark, but Father coughs loudly before she has a chance to dwell on it. “Baron Nelson, what say that we leave Katarina to meet with her while we discuss business?”

Katarina blinks, anxiety gnawing at her chest. “Oh no,” she says, shaking her head. “That is not necessary, Father.”

But he just smiles wider. “Nonsense, Katarina. I insist. There is little need for you to come with us anyway.”

She grimaces, glancing between the two as she tries to think of an excuse. “I would… quite like to hear what you will be talking about.”

“Katarina has every right to attend,” adds Mother, a sharp tone to her voice. “She is our firstborn.”

But Father shakes his head and smiles all the same. “Katarina no longer has to worry about such things, darling.” He turns to her. “I’m sure she would much rather spend the time with her friend.”

Mother shoots him a dissatisfied glare, but then glances toward her with a curious expression. “Is something wrong, Katarina?”

All eyes are on her now: Mother, Father, and Baron Nelson himself. She really has no choice. “I will tour the manor.” She bows her head. “Thank you, Baron Nelson.”

The exchange one last round of pleasantries as they step inside, the door shutting behind them. Then the three of them head off deeper into the manor, leaving Katarina behind.

Katarina’s stomach twists as she thinks of her.

In better times, when Sienna was young, this room would fill with the clinks of glasses and the rumble of conversation. Sweet aromas would drift through the air as hurried servants ducked between tables and attended to the needs of guests.

Those days died long ago.

Now the hall is barren. Its walls no less opulent, but its contents deserted. Dust collects in the corners of the room, and the overall effect is quite eerie. It’s no surprise that the others do not come here often, but that is precisely why it is such a good place to think.

She paces back and forth above the worn marble floor, her heels clacking against the stone like the ticking of a clock. Why is Lady Claes here? What purpose does she have to come here? It’s beyond clear that she is not involved with the talks with Father… is she? She bites her thumb, glancing across the deserted hall. Is it a threat? A show of power? She’s not thought Katarina capable of such things, but if the last months have shown anything, it’s that her knowledge of the noblewoman is woefully incomplete.

From behind, the door creaks open. Lady Claes steps through the door, a smile pulling at her lips as she cranes her neck across the space. Then, her eyes go wide as they lock with Sienna’s. “Ah. S-Sienna.”

The Baron’s daughter keeps an even expression as she surveys her, disregarding the anxiety trickling up her spine. “Are you lost, Lady Claes?”

The brunette steps forward, brushing a finger against the surface of an alcove. She holds it to her face, examining the layered dust on her glove with a frown. “You should really get your staff to clean up around here.”

Irritation flares up Sienna’s chest. “It is rude to go places you are not invited.”

Lad Claes looks up in confusion, only for her expression to sink with some hidden realization. She brushes off her hand, glancing away and crossing her arms. “I see. I did not mean to offend.”

Sienna’s annoyance lessens somewhat, though it still rankles her that the thought has apparently not even crossed Lady Claes’ mind. Of course, she’s not surprised. How can a duke’s daughter ever understand what it’s like to be disregarded and powerless? Still, at least she has the decency to act contrite.

The brunette walks past her, blue dress swishing with the patter of her shoes. She slows as she nears the window, tilting her head back as she steps into the harsh sunlight. Sienna purses her lips as she follows her, wondering if the woman even heard what she’d just said.

The mountains unfold behind the windows them, the river winding gently through the valley below. Small dots mull in the sparse fields, nestled between the roads and creeks, and a single carriage rocks through the road. Katarina gasps softly, no doubt taken by the scenery, but Sienna sees the reality: A brick falls from the bridge, splashing in the creek below. The workers slave away at every crop, taking even the smallest bits of color. The carriage’s load is so light, a single mule pulls it. There is no beauty behind this glass, only the harsh reminder of the consequences of failure. Yet, Lady Claes just smiles and smiles, seeing only the pretty scenery.

For a moment, something truly dark twists into her thoughts. For a moment, the mocking words of Lady Flores repeat in her mind. For a moment, she wishes she could show Lady Claes real suffering.

“If you really don’t want me here… I will go.”

And as her blue eyes dart away from her, the moment passes, and Sienna’s heart sinks with guilt. She closes her eyes, rubbing her temples as she sighs loudly. “It’s not like that.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you glare at me before.”

Sienna’s eyes fly open, nose crinkling in disbelief. “You glare at me all the time!”

There’s a soft breath of air – too limp to be called a snort, much less a laugh – and Katarina turns back to the window, her expression completely neutral.

Sienna bites her tongue, frowning as an all-too familiar urge rises to the surface of her thoughts.

No. Absolutely not. She is not going to give in.

It’s unbelievable how tired Lady Kata… Lady Claes looks as she stands there. It’s so strange to see her despondent. There’s clearly something on her mind.

Still no. Lady Claes is the daughter of a duke: She can handle her own problems or ask her new friends.

The noblewoman is clearly despondent, though. Something’s weighing on her. Sienna can’t recall ever seeing her like this.

It won’t work. It won’t work. It won’t wor—

Sienna sighs in exasperation, crossing her arms as she turns to Lady Katarina. “Will you stop that!?”

Lady Katarina flinches back, blinking in confusion. “Pardon?”

She glares at her. “Moping around like you’re utterly lost. It is irritating.”

The Lady Katarina she remembered would’ve shouted at her. The Lady Katarina she remembered would’ve glared at her. The Lady Katarina she remembered would’ve never admitted to a mote of uncertainty. The Lady Katarina in front of her just slumps over and sighs. “Do you hate me?”

Sienna closes her eyes, rubbing her temple. “I don’t… hate you.” She opens her eyes and looks back to the valley. “I’m just not sure I want to see you right now.”

“I see…” her voice trails off. “I am not sure I am ready to see you either.”

Sienna scoffs at that, rolling her eyes. “Why are you here, then?”

“We are going to a picnic. Father decided to bring me here first.”

Another gust buffets the window panes as the manor creaks around them. Neither one looks at the other.

“Is what they’re saying you did true, Lady Katarina?” Sienna’s voice is terse. “Did you really go behind my back?”

There’s a pause. “Yes.”

Even though she already knows, it hurts to hear her confirm it. It wasn’t much of a problem for her – not like those council requests had been for anything important – but that Lady Katarina treated her as an enemy, even briefly…

“Are you going to tell them?” the brunette asks.

Sienna’s grip tightens. “I don’t know. Maybe.” She feels like she should – reward treachery with treachery – but just thinking about the idea makes her feel bad.

“Sirius is probably going to figure out anyway.” Lady Katarina’s summer dress ruffles as she shrugs. “I don’t know how much longer I’ll be on the council. Probably not long.”

It is honestly probably for the best – Sienna is still not sure how Lady Katarina even got the ranking required in the first place – but she does feel a little bad hearing her distraught. “Is that such a bad thing?” She glances to the girl at her side. “I probably could’ve made council if I cared to study for it.”

Lady Katarina seems surprised at the eye contact, but just rolls her shoulders and sighs. “I don’t know… I guess I just like being with everyone.” She grimaces, seemingly remembering something. “Well… almost everyone.”

Sienna’s eyes narrow. “Did you not feel the same way with us?”

Lady Katarina looks at her. “I think I felt the same way with you.” The past tense makes the statement incredibly bittersweet. “Am I…” her breath hitches, “…a bad person, Sienna?”

It’s a question Sienna would expect to hear from Carmela after being caught breaking into the cookie jar, not the noblewoman she’d served so faithfully for those wonderful months. Yet there’s something so terrifyingly genuine in her eyes as she looks at her – and something far too vulnerable to ignore.

“I don’t know,” she shrugs. “Am I for being by your side?”

Lady Katarina’s back straightens, face morphing into a glare. “What are you saying? Obviously not!” There’s something a little comforting about the familiar tone of voice, but it lapses as soon as her point is made. “It’s just… you remember what I told you, right? About how I died?”

There’s a lump in her throat as she nods. “Yes?”

“Do you believe me now?”

Sienna looks away. “I don’t know. You clearly had foreknowledge about that day’s events, but to say you’ve returned from death…” She shakes her head. “That’s impossible.”

“So you still don’t believe me…”

“I’m saying it could be something else!” To think of Lady Katarina dying… The idea is simply unacceptable.

The lady sighs. “It’s a lot to ask, I know.” She chuckles bitterly. “I probably wouldn’t believe it myself.”

Silence returns to the two of them, yet Sienna finds the interval strangely comfortable; devoid the tension from before. They do not talk because they have nothing else to say. But they are together, aren’t they?

Perhaps that is enough for now.

As she sits on the surprisingly-comfortable sofa, Katarina finds herself warming up to Nelson Manor. While the décor is certainly Spartan and the hallways uncomfortably empty, the old stone walls and dark wood floors have an undeniable charm.

It’s a shame they reverberate with the sounds of the two hellions running through the doorway to the parlor room.

The children are on Katarina in a flash, circling her like vipers as they needle her with questions.

“What’s Sis like at school?”

“Can I touch your hair?”

Heedless of her response, the little demonspawn decides to do it anyway, and Katarina yelps as her head is painfully yanked back. Book tumbling out of her hands, she spins around with a nasty glare. The imps, to their credit, shut up immediately.

Sienna sighs, stepping over to them and placing her hands on her hips. “Rufus! Carmela! What have I told you about interacting with guests?”

With practiced precision they groan, “Sorry, Big Sis.”

Sienna crosses her arms. “I’m not the one you need to apologize to.”

The two turn to her: The copper-haired boy bowing his head and the acorn-haired girl pulling a curtsy. “Pardon us, Lady Claes.”

“That’s better,” Sienna intones.

Then, as if a spell was broken, the children are once again upon her, running to the front of her seat as they pester her with more questions.

“Are you a princess?”

“Can you do magic?”

“Can you do princess magic?”

Sienna opens to intervene once again, but the duke’s daughter beats her to the punch: As Katarina holds up a gloved hand and levels a glare, the children fall silent.

“If you’re going to ask questions, do it properly.” She points at the chair across from her. “Over there and one at a time.”

Sienna does a double-take as the two do exactly as she asks, jumping enthusiastically onto the sofa’s upholstered surface.

“You.” Katarina points at the boy. “Which one are you?”

“R-Rufus, Lady Claes.” He again bows his head, smile not falling despite his nervous stammer.

Katarina nods, and then looks over to the girl. “So you are Carmela, I presume?”

She nods happily. “Yes, Lady Claes!”

“Well then, let’s start with you. What’s your question?”

“Are you a princess?” Carmela asks. “You’re really pretty.”

“I...” Katarina blinks, blue eyes widening. “Pardon?”

“Like, Big Sis is pretty too, but you’re really pretty, so I think you must be a princess!”

Katarina glances over at Sienna, who makes a sympathetic expression as she shrugs.

“No, I am not a princess…” Katarina says after a moment, slowly turning her head back to the girl “…but I suppose I would become one once I am married.” If she is married.

A radiant smile blooms across Carmela’s face at this stunning revelation, but Katarina holds up a hand to stop her. “As for your compliment, thank you, but I’m really nothing special.”

Both Sienna and Carmela give Katarina strange looks at that. She’s not sure why.

She notices Rufus stirring out of the corner of her eye and turns to him, raising an inquiring finger. “Rufus: What’s your question?”

“Is it true that magic eats your soul?”

The finger wilts. “I... beg your pardon?”

“My friend says that mages strap people to tables and rip out their blood and guts to replenish their powers and—”

“Rufus, not this again!” Sienna sighs, cradling her forehead as she steps closer. “You haven’t seen me strapping people to any tables, have you?”

The young boy’s cheeks flush. “Well, no…”

“Then you shouldn’t believe every silly rumor you hear!”

He scoffs, looking up at her indignantly. “How are we supposed to know, Big Sis? You’re the only one of us that has magic!”

Katarina blinks at that. It’s far from uncommon for nobles to be without magic, but for the ability to manifest in only one child… that is rare. “Well, you’re all young enough to not have manifested it yet. Maybe you’ll get lucky?”

The three Nelsons all give her a strange, skeptical look.

“I mean, I guess it’s not impossible,” Rufus says, “but that doesn’t really run in our side of the family.”

Carmela nods her head, looking withdrawn. “Yeah… Big Sis said we probably shouldn’t get our hopes up.”

Sienna sighs, crouching down and patting her on the shoulder. “I also said that only an idiot would judge you for it.”

Carmela smiles a bit, but it is a bitter moment – and one that reminds Katarina how fortunate she is to attend the academy at all.

Still, Katarina’s even more confused now. “Why are you all so convinced?”

“Well… Sienna got magic from her mom,” answers Rufus. He shrugs. “Our mom doesn’t have magic at all, so unless we get really lucky—”

“Yes, but why are you talking about your mother like she’s two different people?!” Katarina interrupts. She only notices how loud her voice is as she stands up from her seat.

Sienna looks up at her, wrinkling her nose in confusion. “Because they are.”

Chapter Text

The sun is low in the sky as the carriage comes to a halt. The meeting evidently ran long, so the ride from Nelson Manor had been filled with the sounds of Katarina’s stomach growling.

Sienna and Katarina had said their goodbyes, in a way. It was stilted, jerky, and uncomfortable… but at least they are talking again. As to her stepsiblings… Katarina tried her best to remain civil with them as well. Hopefully they hadn’t noticed her trepidation.

Katarina tries to put her anxieties aside as Father shepherds her out of the carriage and toward the picnic blanket. Seeing him and Mother there with picnic basket to their side as wonderful food is laid out for the three of them… It is like they are a family again. Just like old times.

“Could you pass me the butter?” Mother asks.

Yet even now there is still tension in the air. Tension her father is utterly oblivious to.

As a child, Katarina never quite learned what transpired between them, but now that she’s grown older, she has a good idea. She’s heard the rumors, and considering the timing with Keith in particular… It is not merely a reflection of her distaste that she does not consider him her brother. How can she ever be family with someone whom she’s not even shared a womb?

Father does as asked, and presses the platter into Mother’s hands. Duchess Claes doesn’t say another word to him.

Sienna’s siblings? A fluke, of course. Or perhaps something more sinister. Katarina will need to warn her lieutenant to be cautious when sees her again at the academy. Their strength is unlikely to surpass Sienna’s the way Keith’s had surpassed hers, but there are two of them, so the Baron’s daughter cannot afford to become complacent.

She bites into a sandwich, feeling Mother squeeze her shoulder affectionately. Yes, that is why it is different — or rather, why it seems different — as Keith too had once pretended to be a mewling, lost little boy as well. It means nothing in the end: One not of your own blood can never truly be family.

Yet, as she dwells on the one element missing from this scenic get-together, the most traitorous thought of all rises to challenge her: What about Anne?

Katarina nearly chokes on her sandwich as she swallows roughly, bending over and coughing inelegantly as she pounds her chest. The blockage unsticks itself after a moment, and she tries to not think about it as she gulps it down.

“My Daughter,” says Father, “are you alright?”

She looks up to see his dark blue eyes filled with concern. The resemblance is beyond obvious. Though, of course, Keith’s eyes would never look at her that way.

So, Katarina merely nods, withdrawing a handkerchief and dabbing her lips. “Pardon me, Father. Must have been the air.” It is a classic polite excuse for such occasions; one that Mother had taught her many years ago.

Father nods, a nobleman like him understanding her true meaning perfectly well, and drops the matter.

A cool, refreshing breeze ruffles the edges of their picnic blanket as the three of them eat, taking in the sights of the rolling hills and forested landscapes surrounding them.

“It really is such a shame,” Mother says, surveying the view. “In terms of natural beauty, House Nelson is the richest of us all.”

Father almost smiles. “Unfortunately, My Dear, you cannot pay debts in scenery.”

Katarina’s stomach roils, and she lowers the half-eaten sandwich from her mouth. “They will be alright, won’t they?” She tries to sound casual, but the upturn in her voice belies her concern.

Both her parents look at her with sympathy, and Father adorns a reassuring smile. “I made them a fair deal, and the Baron accepted. It is not a permanent solution, but it will keep them afloat for the time being.”

It does actually reassure her to hear him say such: Father is well-known for driving hard-but-fair bargains.

“Actually, it was your contact with her that alerted us to her family’s situation in the first place,” adds Mother. She looks at Katarina seriously. “While we cannot afford charity… It was also clear that a mutually-beneficial relationship could be established.”

Katarina nods before returning to her meal. She doesn’t know the specifics, but she doesn’t need to. Assistance in matters of court, favorable trade rates… Whatever the case, a price will be extracted.

Come to think of it, this had probably occurred in the other timeline as well. Mother and Father left the manor around this time then as well: She just hadn’t noticed it due to not suggesting the picnic. That makes her feel a little better, because she can’t remember Sienna acting any differently once they returned… though it worries her to think that her lieutenant’s loyalty may have been inadvertently coerced.

“Speaking of mutually-beneficial relationships,” Mother continues, “I noticed the Ascart siblings paid you a visit.”

This time Katarina doesn’t choke. Barely.

Father seems equally a surprised, eying Katarina with an impressed smile. “Oh? The notorious recluse?”

But Mother isn’t smiling. “Indeed. According to the staff, she spent quite some time with Katarina.”

Father’s smile widens. “Wonderful!”

Mother’s blue eyes narrow. “What I am curious about is why I was not informed.”

And suddenly, her tone seems to register with Father, whose smile falls into uncertainty as he glances at his wife.

Katarina does her best to steel herself as she tilts up her nose. “You say that as if I cannot have guests of my choosing.”

“Indeed, we have not prohibited such,” Mother concedes, albeit in a tone that adds an unspoken ‘for now.’ “Still, it is quite alarming that you would take such an action without consulting me. You are aware of how your actions could reflect on our House?”

Katarina resists the urge to wilt beneath her frigid stare.

Father’s face lights up, and he turns to Mother. “Actually, darling, this explains an encounter I just had with the Count!” Mother looks to him with some trepidation, as does Katarina herself, but Father is positively ecstatic. “He said, ‘Luigi, you’ve really raised a fine young woman. Let her know that she’s welcome with us any time.’ At the time, I brushed it off as a polite compliment, but now I see it was genuine!”

Katarina feels strange at that. Her chest hurts but… in a pleasant way. Why is it such a big deal to him? She just treated Sophia with the respect her name deserved. Yet… she cannot deny it feels nice to be recognized.

Mother seems conflicted as well. “Be that as it may, Katarina needs to be careful with who she associates with.” She glances across the picnic blanket at Katarina. “You and I know that those stories are old superstition, but others…”

Katarina has a sinking feeling as the last bite of her sandwich enters her mouth.

“Nonsense.” Father shakes his head, soft features going stony. “Anyone fool enough to believe such stories is unfit to associate with our daughter to begin with.”

As Katarina dabs her cheeks, she finds herself in the strange position of agreeing with him.

“Luigi, can you not see the risk?” Mother’s nose wrinkles as she raises her arms to her sides. “It could tarnish her reputation!”

“I fail to see why that is not my decision to make.”

Both turn to look at her as she speaks. Mother’s eyes go wide with confusion.

“My Katarina,” she says softly… “Think of what I am saying.”

“I have, and I disagree with it. I believe Father has summed my feelings appropriately.”

Even he seems taken aback. “Katarina?”

But Katarina has no time for either of them right now. “Lady Sophia is a wonderful girl who has suffered enough unjustified pain already.” There’s a strange edge to her voice as she continues. “I cannot — and will not — add any more.”

The two blink as another wind carries over the hill, as if punctuating her statement.

“Lady Sophia…” Mother repeats quietly, looking strangely withdrawn. She looks up at Katarina. “You’re already so close?”

Katarina nods.

Mother looks back down. “I’m sorry. You must think me heartless for what I said.”

There’s a long silence after that.

“I suppose I had someone like that as well, Katarina. I was never any good at making friends, but… I found the most wonderful woman…” Her voice is wistful; nostalgic as she shakes her head. “Sometimes I even wonder what would’ve happened if…” she looks to her side; at Father leaning in “…if I had felt differently.”

Katarina feels a lance of fear as Father’s eyes widen.

“Darling?”

Mother shakes her head, not making eye contact. “No… It is nothing, dear. No point dwelling on the past. I should not have even said anything. “

“Darling, if I have done something to offend you—”

His voice catches as she holds up a hand. “Do not.” Her tone is clipped. “Not here. Not now.”

His expression falls as he pulls back in acknowledgement. “Yes, Millidiana.”

Katarina feels a twisted sense of relief as the three of them return to their picnic. As long as they don’t talk, they are a family. As long as they stay together, they are a family. After all, that’s what family is, isn’t it? Just the people you were born to – those who share your blood.

Yet as she looks at the two of them she cannot stop thinking of Anne, alone at Claes Manor.

And even, for a moment, of Keith.

Far away from Claes Manor, Anne ducks out of the bustling streets of the outer capital. The setting sun tinges the buildings orange as she ventures deeper into the lengthening shadows of the alleyway. The noise of the street behind her fades as she makes her way through the winding intersections of increasingly-decrepit buildings, and she has to resist the urge to avoid pinching her nose as the air fills with the rancid smell of decay.

As she turns another corner, she sees two men, one young, one old, in the distance ahead. Both immediately turn to face her, narrowing their eyes in suspicion. Trying to not be too obvious, she adjusts her path away from them, diving down a different path toward her destination, as her simple brown dress swishes with each purposeful stride.

By the time she realizes that the path she’s chosen is a dead end, it’s too late.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” a gruff voice intones.

She turns around to see the two men from before, blocking the only exit. Her heart beats quickly as anxiety floods her chest. She does not let it show on her face. “I’m looking for a woman known as Renee. I have business with her.”

The two men look toward each other in surprise, before looking back at her. “You have business with Renee?”

She nods calmly, ignoring the sound of her heart beating in her ears. “I’m in need of her services.”

“She talks like a noble,” says one of the men. His brown eyes look her over, sizing her up.

“You really think a noble would be interested in talking to Renee?” the older one says.

“Think, Mike! Look at how clean she is! And that dress is brand new!”

“I work as a servant for a rich merchant family,” Anne lies, “but that’s not why I’m here.”

“Why are you here, then?” The older one says.

“If you promise to take me to her, I’ll tell you.”

The two men glance at each other, brows furrowing.

The door creaks shut behind her as stagnant air fills her lungs. Dying sunlight filters through the many gaps and cracks of the abandoned wooden structure, mixing with the flickering candlelight. A few personal items litter a nearby table, as a makeshift bed sits in the dim corner of the room.

Anne takes a breath and walks forwards, her every step causing the rotting floorboards to creak and groan in protest. Pulling out the wooden chair, she sits across from the flickering candle, pushing herself in as she prepares to wait for her contact.

She doesn’t have to wait long, as she barely notices something stir in the corner of her eye before an arm wraps around her torso, slamming her back into the chair as cold steel presses into her throat.

“Who sent you?” a female voice hisses into her ear. “How did you find me?”

“The jailbird stands on an empty cage,” says Anne. Her voice remains level, even as her blood runs cold.

Anne gasps as the woman lets go of her, clutching her chest as she steadies her breathing. She has to stay calm. Focus on why she’s here.

“Michael, that fool,” the woman mutters. “Of course it was him.”

As she walks around the table, Anne manages to catch a glimpse of the dagger as her would-be assailant slides it into a leather sheathe on her thigh. The woman’s golden eyes never leave her, giving Anne a prime view of the jagged scar running across her face. Her frazzled, dirty, red hair is tied into a braid, and swings wildly as she angrily yanks out the opposite chair and falls into it. “Talk.”

“You are Renee, correct?”

She cuts her off. “Don’t waste your words. You wouldn’t have come all this way if you didn’t know who you were dealin’ with.” She leans forward, placing her elbows on the table. “So what is it? Are you here to offer me a job?”

“Of sorts.” Anne nods, trying to ignore the adrenaline still coursing through her veins. “But not what I gather to be your usual fare.”

The woman rolls her eyes, slouching back into her seat. “I’m not a mercenary. You want someone dead; you’ll have to find someone else. Accidents happen, but I don’t do contract killin.’”

“No killing. No risk to you, either.”

Renee arches a brow, smirking. “Sounds like bullshite.”

Anne reaches down, removing a small pouch from a hidden pocket in her dress before dropping it on the weathered wooden table. “This is your payment. If you accept my offer, it will be the first of many.”

Renee leans forward, loosening the string and gently pulling open the pouch. There’s a momentary flicker of gold before the redhead pulls the pouch closed and tosses it upwards, catching it midair as she weighs in in her palm. “Well now…” A crooked smile creeps across her face. “Aren’t we bein’ generous?” In a quick motion, she swipes the pouch and stuffs it away behind her back, turning her focus to Anne once more. “So, what terrible idea are you tryin’ to sell me?”

Anne takes a deep breath and steels herself for the ordeal to come. When her brown eyes open again, they’re filled with determination. “I want you to teach me everything you know.”

Chapter Text

“This is profoundly unnecessary.”

Katarina shrugs, gripping a branch as she spreads her feet into a fighting stance. Her brown hair shines in the spotted pattern of the canopy leaves; sharp features half-masked in shadow.

Gerald’s frown deepens. “I thought you said we were going down to the lake.”

“And as far as Mother is concerned, we are.” An almost animal grin, so unlike the perfect mask she used to wear, spreads across Katarina’s lips. “Now, will you draw your weapon, or shall I hit you with this stick?” Judging by the sparkle in her eyes, either possibility appeals.

Gerald chuckles in spite of himself, reaching down to the woodland ground and picking up a sturdy-looking stick. He feels its weight in his hands, nodding as he turns to his fiancée. “Right, then. Is this why you sent for me?”

She scoffs as she makes a half-hearted swipe at him, which he deflects easily. “You came to me.” The grin widens. “Is my perfect prince feeling a bit lonely?”

His brow furrows. He swipes to the side, stopping at the last moment before tapping her dress gently. “Distracted again. If this was a real blade I’d have just slashed your knees.”

Her cheeks redden as she glares at him. “Fine. If that’s how you want it to be…” She steps back slightly before swinging with near-reckless abandon. He parries her moves easily, mock-yawning to add insult to injury.

It’s only then that she makes her move, crouching down beneath his thrust and winding up a swing. The resultant blow knocks the wind out of him, pushing him back into a mossy tree. She tilts up her nose in mocking laughter, fixing him with cold blue eyes filled with the kind of derision typically reserved for the downtrodden and less-to-be.

Gerald’s own laughter does not come so easily. He groans as he stands up, stretching his back as he brushes a hand against the stinging bruise. She held back. Barely.

Katarina readies her ‘weapon’ as he approaches, but he simply looks at her curiously. “I thought we were practicing.”

Guilt flashes across her face, and azure eyes look away. “I…” she shakes her head, shoulders slumping. “Yes, you’re right.” Another pause. “Sorry.”

He blinks at the word. “You’re apologizing to me.” It’s not really a question as much as him checking he’s still capable of speech.

She looks up at him in another glare. “Must you scrutinize everything? It is exhausting.”

Again, he almost chuckles, but quickly succumbs to the creeping unease. There’s something darker in those eyes of hers; something wrathful in the way she speaks. He’s not even sure she realizes it. All he knows is it’s far more bitter than sweet.

Perhaps he’s going about this the wrong way.

He lets the stick drop to the ground, holding his arms to his sides as he stands open and ready. “Hit me.”

The brunette cocks a single brow, tilting her head in complete confusion. “Pardon?”

“You wish to hit me, yes?” He offers a princely smile. “So hit me.”

Katarina closes her eyes, tilts her nose up, and scoffs. “I don’t want to just hit—”

A pause.

A frown.

The other stick falls to the ground, and her eyes open. “Perhaps that is enough practicing.” He can’t tell if it’s a trick of the light, but their blue seems a tad softer now. “I do not think these conditions are good for me.”

Something in Gerald’s chest still twists: It’s far more painful than he anticipated for his suspicions to be proven correct.

Katarina turns away, looking through the tall trees back toward the clearing. “I suppose we should head back to the manor now,” she sighs. “I can have Joana brew us some tea, since Anne is away…”

Gerald finds himself stepping forward without realizing it, stopping just shy of touching her arm. “I would actually quite like to visit the lake with you, Katarina.” He stares straight into those clear blue eyes.

Her jaw drops slightly. After a few seconds, she looks away again. Her voice is soft when she answers after several moments. “You needn’t bother with pleasantries. I will be fine.”

“I insist,” he counters, surprised at the desperation in his own voice. It must be curiosity. She has been acting rather uncharacteristic. Perhaps he can coax her to reveal what's weighing on her mind?

She takes a deep breath, turning back to face him. A quick glance to one side, then the other. He thinks he sees suspicion pass behind her eyes, though it quickly fades. “If you insist,” she finally says, leaning back at an angle to better meet his gaze. Then, without pausing, she turns deeper into the forest and steps down the overgrown path.

Gerald quickly follows her, watching as she heedlessly strides between trees and shrubbery. Somehow, her dress doesn’t catch on anything. Her expression seems to lighten a little as she bounds across the dirt, grin returning to her sharp features. Gerald finds it strange how much her movements occupy his attention.

It feels like no time at all before they exit into a large clearing occupied by the clear blue lake. Katarina stands in front of it, taking a deep breath as she’s silhouetted by the radiant blue sky.

“It’s just like you remember, isn’t it?” she muses. “I think you’re the only one I’ve brought here before.”

He takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly. The smell of flowers fills his nostrils; the breeze carries the sounds of birds chirping and leaves rustling. “Yes, I remember. You clung to my arm the whole time.” That whole day, really.

She stares at the water’s surface, nodding. “I haven’t been back since then: I didn’t want to ruin the memory.” Her smile falls slightly. “But… that was a very long time ago, wasn’t it?”

There’s something ominous in her words. Even so, he’s not sure what to think. “I suppose so.” It was only a few years ago, but it certainly feels that way, at least.

“I know I’ve never been very good at explaining myself. And I am not very fond of talking about these things.”

“There is no need to be ashamed,” he replies, almost automatically. “I find your honesty refreshing. Perhaps because I lack it so often.” His eyes widen. Again, he’s surprised by his own words. What on Earth is causing him to say such foolish things?

She laughs bitterly. “Honesty? I suppose you could call it that.” She shakes her head. “If you want honesty, then I honestly don’t know what I’m supposed to be.”

He steps towards her, stopping by her side. She continues to look out at the lake.

“I was raised to be a proper lady,” she explains, a hint of surprising bitterness in her voice, “and I always thought of myself as your future queen. Yet now I wonder: Is that what I really want? Is that the person I want to be?”

“You are changing.” It’s not really a question. It’s… admirable. Something he never thought her capable of. Admittedly, he’d never thought much of her to begin with. Yet as much as it impresses him… he finds the thought surprisingly unsettling. Before he has a chance to think, he speaks. “Does your future include me?”

She finally looks at him, a bitter mirth in those blue eyes. “Oh, I’m sure it does. I’ve seen it, remember?” Her tone is like before, during their ‘practice’ in the trees: Bitter, vengeful, and full of loathing.

He looks away, throat dry as he tries to think of something to say. He’d thought she’d put that ‘vision’ behind her. Perhaps she was trying. Yet even so, he cannot help but turn and retort, “Is that why you bludgeoned me?”

She wilts beneath his gaze, and he feels surprisingly guilty. “Again… I am sorry.” She hangs her head.  Her voice is quiet now, weaker than he’s ever heard it. “I… don’t want to be the kind of woman who hurts people just because I can.”

It’s an admirable sentiment. One he has no hope of ever aspiring to. Yet for Katarina of all people to say it…

He lays a hand on her shoulder. “This really is more than a nightmare to you, isn’t it?”

She says nothing, but the way she shakes beneath his touch is all the answer he needs.

And so, Gerald lays his hands on the hilt of the sword of the Stuart family, priceless heirloom of the Sorciéran royalty and symbol of their power, sheathed in a scabbard that never leaves him…

And tosses it over his shoulder into the lake.

Katarina’s head whips around with a start. Her eyes first trace the splash, and then return to Gerald, widening as they see what is most pointedly not at his side. “G-Gerald!? Your sword!—”

But Gerald shushes her as he falls on bended knee. “I, Gerald Stuart, thirdborn of the King, promise to never harm you, Katarina Claes.”

She looks at him in slack-jawed amazement, blinking rapidly and not believing what she sees. Slowly, her cheeks redden. She turns away in a pout, crossing her arms against her chest as she glances away. “So dramatic. You’re just going to fish it up anyways.”

“If you want it gone, in the lake it stays.”

Her cheeks redden further, mouth opening and closing as she searches desperately for some retort. After a few moments of this, she spins on her heel and faces away. She takes a few steps forward, only to sigh loudly and slump forward.

“Thank you.” Her voice is quiet; almost inaudible.

But in that moment, Gerald feels happier than he ever thought possible.

It’s when the two of them return to the Manor that the real trouble begins.

“Katarina Claes!” a voice shouts out. Mother stands before one of its stone walls, arms crossed as her eyes narrow in a truly fearsome gaze. “What have you done?”

Almost instinctively, the noblewoman freezes. What has she done? There is no way Mother could know about their little training session… is there?

“Duchess Claes, do you mind explaining the situation?”

She blinks as her eyes trace Gerald’s, demeanor instantly shifting as she seems to remember the royal is present. She tilts her head forward slightly. “My apologies, Prince Gerald, but Katarina appears to have sent for other guests.”

Now two pairs of inquisitive blue eyes turn to Katarina, and she wilts slightly beneath their pressure. “No?” she squeaks. “I haven’t sent for anyone, and I’m quite certain only Gerald arrived for me.”

Mother looks back up, a bit of guilt in her eyes as she realizes her daughter is telling the truth. “Oh.” Her voice is surprisingly quiet. Then, her gaze shifts. “In that case, Prince Gerald, do you have any idea why your brother and his fiancée are here?”

The air fills with tension as the two of them enter the parlor room, with Lady Hunt’s auburn eyes fixing a truly menacing glare as she clings to Prince Alan on the luxurious sofa. The fourth prince shoots a similar glare at Gerald, sitting up on his seat. “Hello, brother.”

Gerald, of course, flashes a princely smile in return. “Hello indeed, Alan.”

“Well, this is a surprise!” Katarina laughs, trying to ease the frigid atmosphere. “Erm… Alan, what are you doing here?”

“Yes, Lady Claes, what an excellent question indeed.” Lady Hunt turns to her fiancé, displeasure clear on her face. “What are we doing here, Alan?”

Alan looks back with confusion. “I told you that you didn’t have to go. You were the one that insisted on accompanying me.”

Lady Hunt frowns, quickly covering her displeasure with her extended orange fan. “I am your fiancée. It is only proper I accompany you to visits with other women, don’t you think?” She puts particular emphasis on those words for some reason, though only Gerald seems to have any inkling as to why.

The noon sunlight filters through the windows onto the wood-paneled floor as the ensuing moment of silence drags on uncomfortably long.

“She raises a valid point, Alan.” It’s only due to Katarina’s experience that she can detect the hint of tension in Gerald’s voice. “Surely, your fiancée deserves further elaboration?”

Alan scoffs, tilting his nose up. “Oh, that’s rich. Since when have you cared about Katarina in the slightest?”

Gerald and Lady Hunt both wince at Alan’s casual form of address. Even Katarina feels a bit embarrassed. If one didn’t know any better about the nature of their relationship… but no, that’s impossible. Who would be foolish enough to choose her with a woman like Lady Hunt at their side?

“I am with her right now, aren’t I?” Gerald speaks, voice clipped as his smiling mask slips ever-so-slightly.

“Yeah, and that’s why I’m here too,” Alan retorts, opening a single frigid eye. “So you don’t try anything funny.”

Katarina glances back at Gerald, surprised at how transparently his irritation is growing.

“With all due respect,” Gerald growls, “that’s hardly your place—”

“I quite agree, Prince Gerald,” interjects Lady Hunt, giving Gerald a curious look. “I have tried to dissuade Alan from such foolish and unnecessary actions.”

There’s a lull in the conversation as Gerald’s attention switches to her. The third prince takes her in for a moment, then smiles. “Lady Hunt, I am quite glad to have your support.” His emphasis is very strange as he draws out his words.

The redhead claps her fan closed, genuine smile curling across her lips. “Indeed. I think I am beginning to see the situation clearly.”

Katarina stares at the strange conversation. Watching the way those two are looking at each other, smiling and speaking so slowly… she takes a deep breath and tamps down a hint of jealousy, reminding herself of the words she’d just shared at the lake. “Lady Hunt: I do think you are the one acting out of line.”

The smile doesn’t leave her lips, but her tone turns truly venomous. “Why? Because I simply wish to accompany my fiancé instead of leaving him alone with you?”

Katarina tries to ignore the anger welling up in her chest. How insecure can a noblewoman be? Or is this a mind game, trying to throw her off guard? Whatever the case, she will not fall for it. “I believe it is far more telling that you do not trust him to be left alone.”

The fan is back in a flash, covering Lady Hunt’s mouth as her eyes stare daggers. “You truly are every bit the noblewoman they say.” It is not a compliment.

Gerald clears his throat, interrupting the exchange of barbs. “Alan, if you will not leave, then will you at least clarify how long you intend to stay?”

The fourth prince is characteristically blunt as he relaxes in his chair. “Until you leave. Then, I’ll go.”

She swears she sees a vein bulge in Gerald’s forehead. “I see.”

Something suddenly grabs Alan’s attention, and he cocks a brow upon looking at Gerald’s waist. “What happened to your sword?”

Gerald shrugs. “I lost it.” He glances at Katarina, flashing a grin. “Considering recent events… perhaps it is for the best.”

Katarina tries to ignore the warmth in her cheeks as she averts her gaze.

Alan is far more straightforward. “Mom and Dad are going to kill you if you really lost it.” He almost seems happy about it. “I’d love to hear that conversation.” No, he definitely seems happy about it.

“Not to interrupt this stimulating discussion, but if we are to be stuck at this manor, do we have anything to actually do, Alan?” Lady Hunt’s voice is clipped, clearly frustrated at her failure to convince him.

It’s only as he raises a finger to his chin that she realizes asking him this question may not have been the wisest idea.

Gerald is strangely clingy as Alan sits at the piano and stretches his hands. Ordinarily, she’d welcome the attention, but right now…

Well, right now it feels a little suffocating.

One of the maids stumbles down the hallway, struggling to hold the assorted papers against her chest. Katarina frowns as she recognizes her: Isabel Dean.

As expected, the woman finally loses her footing, sending the gathered sheet music flying through the air. Katarina tenses, anger boiling in her core, but Gerald gently squeezes her shoulder before clearing his throat.

The woman looks up from her panicked scramble to reassemble the pages of notes, and pales. “Your Majesty…”

“Your Majesties,” Alan corrects.

She doesn’t miss Gerald’s smirk of amusement at the woman goes even paler. And while she feels a little guilty… she can’t help but join in.

His smile fades quickly, though. “I believe you’ve done more than enough. You are dismissed.”

Isabel bows quickly before tearing out of the room. There’s a thump as she trips again, just out of sight.

Gerald turns to Katarina as Alan sighs and reaches down to the papers. “I’m surprised a girl like that’s still employed.”

Katarina rolls her eyes. “I think Joana has a soft spot for her. That’s the only reason Mother and I haven’t sent her packing by now.”

He chuckles. “That’s honestly more patience than I’d show.” Then, his expression shifts. “Maybe it’s because she kind of looks like you?”

Katarina’s nose wrinkles. “Pardon?” She states it like the accusation it is.

Even Alan chuckles at that one, laugh bouncing from the floor. “You know what? I can actually see it! Braid your hair, dye it black, make your eyes green…”

Katarina looks at him in utter disgust. “I do not look like her.” It most certainly does not sound as though she is pleading.

“At least one of you contributes to society…” Lady Hunt mutters, though even her tone betrays a hint of mirth.

Katarina closes her eyes, takes a deep breath and, swallows her pride.

Then, she laughs as she imagines exactly what they’re describing.

Chapter Text

With the end of summer break comes the unfortunate matter of Keith.

Katarina has no great desire to see him again. Indeed, if she could remove him entirely from Claes Manor, it would bring her great satisfaction. Yet, he is here, and while he is here, she dreads his quiet almost more than his actions. What has he been doing in the dark room of his? What has he been spending his time on all this while? The break is nearly over: They will be returning to the Academy very soon. Yet Keith remains silent and isolated, avoiding her gaze and not sharing even a withering glare.

In some ways, it’s a return to form. Yet she cannot get it out of her mind. For him to act so uncharacteristically bold only return to the way he had been? The other Keith had no such compunctions. Once the Harlot had wrapped her in her web, he had never been the same. True, her absence from this world can explain the difference – but it makes Katarina nervous all the same.

There is… another matter, as well. Something about what Sienna had told her. What allowed her to have such a good relationship with those false siblings? Keith had certainly been less of a menace when Katarina was younger, but they had never been close.

That is why Katarina stands in front of the door to his room, fidgeting with the airy blue silk of her summer dress. She is not nervous, of course, merely… reluctant. It is not like she often seeks out his attention, and with all that’s happened she does not know how he will react. She simply needs more time to think; a few more moments to strategize. She’s been doing that a lot, these days. When had everything become so complicated?

The moment is stolen from her as the door creaks open, the tall form of the younger Claes towering over her. He’s at first surprised, then greatly displeased. “What do you want?” He almost spits, keeping his hand on the door.

She smirks, opening her mouth to reply, only to realize a little too late that she’s not sure what to say. Why is she doing this? It’s not like he’s going to answer honestly if she asks him what schemes he’s hatching against her, nor does he seem particularly interested in listening to any accusations she might make. She decides to take a straightforward approach. “What are you doing in there?”

“Working on my studies, mostly,” he replies, glaring at her. “Though it’s really none of your concern.”

Katarina crosses her arms, the false smile fading. “Like that little trap you set for me at the council meeting wasn’t my concern?”

Keith shrugs with his free arm, barely concealing a smirk. “Didn’t work out like I hoped, but at least it set you off.”

She struggles to keep her expression neutral. “You’ve got quite the mouth as of late. Always something smart to say.”

The grin doesn’t fade. “At least one of us is speaking intelligently.”

But Katarina notices something. She’s not sure what it is: A flicker of the eye; a twitch of the cheek. All she knows is that a lifetime (or two) of watching Gerald has trained her to notice false happiness.

And Keith’s smile is painfully fake.

“You don’t expect me to believe this ‘devil-may-care act,’ do you? Maybe it works on your pretty little dolls, but it won’t work on me.” Her own lips curl into a sneer. “What’s bothering you?” Her tone turns sickeningly sweet. “Go on, you can tell me!”

Keith’s mask of smug superiority instantly shatters, replaced with a look of sheer loathing. It makes Katarina falter for a moment, to the point she almost doesn’t notice the door being shut. She sticks her heel in the frame, grimacing as the wooden door bites into her sandal as she holds it ajar. Her sneer pulls down into a frown. “No. We’re not done yet.”

Keith glares at her, the same dangerous look she’s seen before. “Will you just go away?” But then it collapses, and there’s a tinge of exasperation to his tone. “Please…”

The sudden shift in tone catches her off guard again, and in that moment of hesitation, her foot slips from the door. Keith capitalizes on it immediately, and slams the door shut. She hears the lock click a moment after.

“This isn’t over!” Katarina yells, banging on the wood for emphasis, but no further response is forthcoming. After a few minutes alternating between various taunts and stewing in her anger, she spins on her bruised heel and marches away down the hall.

Something gnaws at her chest. This isn’t how this was supposed to go. There is no other way it could, but it’s not how it should. Yet, the more she lingers on the encounter, the more she doesn’t understand what she even wanted from it at all.

She’s still stewing on the profoundly frustrating encounter when Isabel cautiously opens the door to her room. “L-Lady Claes?”

Katarina barely looks up from the scrawling coursework. “Yes?” Her voice is a hiss – Anne’s barely gone and it’s already clear how painfully inferior her substitute is. “I am busy, if you cannot tell.”

The black-haired maid shrinks back in the doorframe, hands behind her back. “I-I have mail for you.”

Katarina shifts in her chair, arching a brow. “From Gerald?”

The petite woman glances nervously. “…I do not know.”

She gestures to the desk. “Bring it here.”

To Katarina’s surprise, what emerges from behind Isabel’s back is not one letter, but a pile of them. As the stack thumps against the table, the maid quickly bows, sparing one last glance before her nervous green eyes look away.

Katarina pushes her coursework aside, flipping through the various envelopes and examining them. One letter with the royal seal… no, two letters; a delicate envelope bearing the sigil of House Ascart; a worn letter marked with standard postage; and… a pale envelope marked with the sign of House Nelson.

Katarina pushes down the toxic mix of anticipation and anxiety that swirl in her chest as she grabs the top-most letter, deciding to read them in the order received. She delicately opens the royal correspondence and unfolds the paper to read.

Gerald’s immaculate handwriting spells out a message that is surprisingly rambling in its length… though perhaps it only feels that way since she’s used to his messages being so brief. It starts with the usual pleasantries, of course—asking if she is feeling well, that sort of thing—but it soon turns to the topic of their lakeside meeting.

Father was infuriated when he found out about my blade. I apologize that I was not entirely able to keep my promise to you, for he forced me to return and fish it out of the lake. Still, it is out of my hands now: He is quite adamant that I am no longer trusted to carry it. I must confess that I feel somewhat naked without it, but I will eagerly forgo it to bring you peace.

She reads the paragraph again, not quite believing what she’s seeing. He’s really trying to keep her word to him? She really shouldn’t expect any different, she supposes—the third prince really has a thing for grand gestures—but… she’s not quite used to being the beneficiary.

As the letter comes to an end, she withdraws a fresh piece of stationary from her desk and begins drafting a reply. It’s surprisingly difficult to think of what to say, so she simply resolves to thank him and state her eagerness to see him again at the Academy. It doesn’t feel quite right, but it’s the best she can think of for now. She pushes it to the side before looking to the next letter, hoping she’ll come up with something better by the end.

She frowns as she unfurls Alan’s letter, her eyes instantly assaulted by the scrawl of words on the page. She was mistaken before: Gerald’s letter is of very reasonable length. This is what rambling looks like.

I know I’m not very good at these letters so I’m just trying to write whatever I think and get my thoughts on the page. It’s actually harder when it comes to you for some reason and I hope it’s not too annoying but I guess I just have a lot to say about you I think.

Nonetheless, she feels her lips curl into a smile the further she reads. Compared to Gerald’s concise formality, the rambling, winding prose is almost refreshing. If nothing else, Alan’s enthusiasm is clear.

Anyway I just want to say that I’m really sorry that Mary keeps bothering you. I don’t know what’s gotten into her because she’s usually really nice and sweet. I think you two have a lot in common and maybe that’s why you have a hard time getting along? It’s kind of funny because you’re the only person I’ve seen get her to be so vocal about her feelings.

She’s not sure what to make of that. She knows that Lady Hunt was somewhat of a wallflower in her youth, but the impression she’d gotten from her recent encounters was something else entirely. Katarina’s good mood falls the more she dwells on it: Though Alan didn’t mean it that way; it would hardly be the first time she’s made an enemy.

She simply puts the letter aside for now and moves to the next; planning to draft a reply once her thoughts are in order. Hopefully Sophia’s letter will be more uplifting. Yet, surprisingly, the handwriting that greets her as she opens the envelope adorned with the seal of House Ascart is not Sophia’s, but that of her brother.

Dear Lady Claes,

I have been dwelling on my conduct towards you during and prior to our first visit to Claes Manor for some time now, and I believe I owe you an apology. I conducted myself in a manner not befitting of my station and allowed myself to be prejudiced unfairly. Whatever your motives, you have made my sister very happy, and she has quite literally been counting the days until the two of you next meet.

Katarina feels a bit strange at that. She’s kept up on her reading—the novel is surprisingly gripping—but it’s easy to forget how lonely the white-haired girl must be if this is what she most looks forward to. She resolves to try and resolve that when they next meet: There are certainly other nobles besides herself who will be able to see past such silly superstitions about ‘curses.’

I apologize if I still seem ungrateful in my tone. Believe me; nothing could be further from the truth. My sister is not the only one of us who has trouble opening up to others. If you are willing to forgive my earlier behavior, I would quite like the chance to meet again in person and introduce myself properly

Katarina bites her lip, thinking it over. There’s no harm in it, she supposes. They’ll have to interact as fellow council members anyway. She makes a mental note to draft a reply saying as much as she finishes the letter and pushes it to the side with the rest, moving onto the envelope marked with common postage.

Her brow instantly furrows. Maria’s handwriting is… surprisingly elegant. Not just the quality of the script—she’s already seen that in the notes they shared—but the spacing of the letters; the neatness of each line... She can’t be trained in formal writing, can she? Still, despite the almost infuriatingly perfect script, the actual content of the commoner’s prose is anything but pretentious.

I’ve been talking to Mom a lot since you’ve left. She’s been showing me how to make some new recipes! I’m not sure this letter will reach you before the end of break, but do you have anything you really want me to make? I’ll do my best to find whatever recipe I need!

Her stomach rumbles at the mere thought. There was that delectable treat she’d had in Lady Talys’s parlor… What had it been called again? Panforte? That seemed right. Though, the irony was that she’d had it while discussing the actions of a very different Maria Campbell…

With that letter done, only one remains: The one bearing the sigil of House Nelson. Pushing the others to the side, she opens it gingerly. The message is very short – even by Sienna’s standards.

Lady Claes,

If your past is real, I will not allow it to repeat.

Meet me at the library after your first class.

I owe you that much.

- Sienna

Chapter Text

“You don’t have a plan!?”

Sienna comes to a halt in the hall beside her; heedless of the volume of her voice as she tightens her grip around the book pressed to her chest.

Katarina hisses, making a shushing gesture as she glances at her surroundings. She doesn’t get too many more odd looks than usual… though her lips purse into a line as she realizes she has become uncomfortably used to the student body’s bewildered stares.

“I do have a plan,” she whispers, looking back to Sienna. “It’s just… flexible.” She sighs, rolling her shoulders as she resumes her journey down the academy’s halls. “It’s not just a list I can follow.”

Sienna’s nose scrunches up as she follows closely behind. “Be that as it may, don’t you have any strategy? If you’ve truly died…”

The brunette reaches up with a gloved hand to massage her temples. “I’ve tried strategies. They don’t work. I’ve had more success thinking on the fly.”

She’d thought the Harlot would be her largest threat, yet Maria is now her ally – no, friend. She’d tried to outmaneuver Keith, but her so-called brother has now become far more unstable than she’s ever seen him before. Every time she’s had a victory, it’s come unexpectedly. And, loathe as she is to admit it… she has never been a very good planner. Does it not make sense to simply adapt to events as they occur?

Sienna still isn’t convinced, though. “Why are you even here, Katarina!?” It would sound like an insult, except her whispered words are dripping with concern. “Invent an excuse! Take the semester off! You’d hardly be the first noble to do so!”

Katarina shakes her head. “I know what’s coming here. This is the best place for me to be.” Despite her confident tone, her words ring hollow. It is true, but it’s not the truth. “I do not run from things.” More true, but still not quite right.

Sienna groans in exasperation as the two of them round a corner. “Your pride may quite literally get you killed, Katarina!” Still, she doesn’t seem surprised as she looks back at the brunette, brushing away a loose strand of flaxen hair with her free hand as her golden eyes narrow in determination. “Fine. I can’t convince you to stay home. Will you at least take some precautions?”

Katarina’s lips curl in a wicked grin as she glances over her shoulder. “I already have.”

Her loyal lieutenant seems surprised, but her eyes quickly narrow in skepticism. “Such as?”

“I’m taking swordsmanship lessons…”

Sienna seems to relax at those words.

“…With Gerald.”

The pink-clad noble practically pushes her to the wall. “Him!?” Sienna shouts, once again gaining the attention of every student in earshot. “Katarina, in what world does it make sense to train with your murderer!?”

For most people, such a statement would certainly turn heads. For the student body of the Sorciér Academy of Magic, it does the opposite. The onlookers quickly surmise the episode is yet another instance of Lady Claes’ madness, and resolve to tune out the whole ordeal as they get on with their business.

Katarina, on the other hand, flushes red. “I-It wasn’t my only contingency,” she retorts, tripping over her words. “I have others.”

Sienna groans even more exasperatedly as she brings her free palm to her forehead. “If they’re all the same caliber as this one, then perhaps it’s best for my sanity that you keep them to yourself.”

Cheeks warm with embarrassment, Katarina executes a trick Mother taught her: Changing the subject. “What even is that book you’re carrying, Sienna?” She glances down at the leather-bound tome, now tucked beneath the sleeve of Sienna’s pink dress. “You’ve been hauling it around the entire time we’ve talked.”

Sienna looks up from her head-cradling misery, unamused at Katarina’s blatant attempt to deflect, yet more than willing to go along with it. “This is the only book I could find in the library that had anything to say about time magic.” She steps back from Katarina as she withdraws it from her shoulder, presenting the brunette the worn title in ancient script.

Katarina’s eyes narrow as she scrutinizes the lettering. “On Time… Journeys?”

“On the Passage of Time,” Sienna corrects, “but it’s a very old dialect of ancient script. Even I’m having trouble with it.” She shakes her head. “Even so, it’s just another dead end. I can’t find anything to do with your experience. I was on my way to return it when I ran into you.”

The brunette crosses her arms, frowning. “Nothing at all?”

“None.” Sienna sighs, slipping the book back beneath her shoulder. “It’s either never happened before or someone’s been very diligent in removing all record of it happening.” She glances to the side, scoffing. “Honestly, I’m not sure which one I believe…”

A lance of anxiety pierces Katarina’s heart. “But you believe me, don’t you?”

The flaxen-haired noblewoman looks back at her with a sympathetic expression. “Of course I do. You proved it was real when you told me what was going to happen that day, remember?” She grimaces as she looks down at the floor. “It was easier to be angry with you than to accept you were really in danger of…”

Sienna goes silent for a moment, and Katarina watches without a word. It must be a trick of the light – it must be – but for a moment, the girl’s eyes almost seem… tearful?

With a somewhat undignified snort, however, the flaxen noblewoman regains her composure, shaking her head. “Regardless… You can trust me, Lady Katarina.”

And Katarina knows she can. Out of everyone here at the academy, she really can.

Something in her chest twists at that. She’s not sure if it’s a good or a bad feeling.

“Lady Katarina!” The light mage’s voice rings out over the usual quiet chatter of the library; her outburst earning her a few glares from the assorted patrons. Maria does not care; a wide grin on her face as she runs toward the brunette. “It’s so good to see you!”

Katarina returns the smile, turning toward the light mage as she stops just in front of her. “Maria! How are you?”

The commoner blushes slightly. “Better, now that you’re here. What brings you to the library?”

“Well, I was just talking with another one of my friends…” Katarina steps to the side, gesturing to Sienna. Her voice trails off as she notices the look on her face: It’s hard to ignore the way Sienna is glaring.

Maria pales as she realizes the identity of Katarina’s company, and Katarina realizes a moment too late that where she’s standing had blocked Sienna from Maria’s view.

The light mage does her best to carry a smile, though her expression strains as Sienna’s golden eyes sharpen into daggers.

“I’ll come back another time,” Sienna almost spits, cradling the book against her chest like a shield. Nose upturned, she brushes past the commoner with one last parting glare.

Try as she might, Maria is not able to hide her relief as the noblewoman moves out of sight. “Ah… I’m sorry, Lady Katarina.” She shakes her head, “When I came over to talk to you, I didn’t see her at your side…”

Katarina’s frown doesn’t abate, but she nods. “It is not your fault that she feels that way about you.” It is, after all, not long ago that Katarina would have reacted the same way.

“I am… surprised that you two are on good terms,” Maria says, voice tinged with confusion. “I didn’t think Lady Nelson would want anything to do with you given how you’ve spoken of her before…”

Katarina finally allows herself to crack a smile. “You were not the only one I visited over summer, you know.”

The commoner nods, but her expression is still confused. “Please, forgive me if this is improper, but… How can you stand being around her?” Her forced smile finally falls. “I’ve tried to be kind to Lady Nelson in the past, and she’s done nothing but resent me for it.” She shakes her head. “She’s nothing at all like you, Lady Katarina.”

Katarina’s lips purse into a thin line, body going rigid as she tamps down the sudden spike of irritation. “You should not speak so confidently of someone you know nothing about.”

The commoner immediately realizes her mistake, and holds up her hands in a placating gesture. “Sorry, sorry, I just…” she shakes her head. “When I was young, my mom told me that if you treated people nicely, people would treat you nicely back.” Her expression darkens, and she looks away at a nearby bookshelf. “It doesn’t feel that way a lot of the time. It feels like there are just people in the world who just want to make others miserable.”

Katarina closes her eyes, feeling the tension flow out of her as she lets out a sigh. “I can’t say you’re entirely wrong about the world, Maria.” She opens her eyes again, expression softening as she matches the light mage’s gaze. “But you shouldn’t be so quick to judge.”

The blonde nods, looking down at her feet in shame. “You’re right, Lady Claes.” She shakes her head. “I’m sorry… It’s just frustrating sometimes.” She looks up with an earnest smile. “But I am happy you gave me a chance.”

Katarina feels warmth rush to her cheeks as the blonde’s deep blue eyes twinkle with admiration. She glances away as the feeling overwhelms her. After taking a moment to gather her thoughts, she looks back at the commoner. “It’s nice to have someone who sees the best in you, isn’t it?”

Maria nods enthusiastically.

“Just think about that with Sienna, okay?” Katarina continues. “It’s hard, but… try and see her actions from her point of view.” Her voice is perhaps wearier than she intended – she can’t quite hide her own struggles with the concept.

The commoner’s enthusiasm fades slightly, but she nods once more. Then, she brings a finger to her chin, brow furrowing as she seems to realize something. With wide eyes, she looks back up at the ducal daughter. “Do you think that Lady Nelson is being bullied, Lady Katarina?”

Katarina scoffs, making a dismissive gesture. “No.” She pauses, her own brow furrowing in kind. “I should think no one at the academy is that lacking in self-preservation.” She looks at the commoner, tilting her head slightly. “Why?”

Maria’s expression darkens. “Lady Katarina… I need to tell you about something that happened just before summer break.”

And as Maria recounts the story of Sienna being burnt and injured, Katarina can only feel the beating of her heart… and her fists clenching in fury.

“A student? Attacked on academy grounds?” Sirius leans over the wooden surface of his desk within the student council chamber, gray eyes wide as Maria recounts Sienna’s injuries once more.

“It is an outrage,” Katarina growls, slamming her fist onto the hard wood surface. “According to Maria’s testimony, the injuries Lady Nelson received were nothing less than assault.”

“These are serious accusations,” Sirius replies, lacing his fingers together as he straightens in his seat. “Councilwoman,” he glances at Maria, “do you have any evidence of this attack?”

Maria opens her mouth to reply, then closes it, lips pursing in frustration. “No. She was injured very recently, so I was able to heal her completely. There wouldn’t be any lasting marks.”

The student council president arches a brow. “What about testimony? Surely, Lady Nelson would be willing to tell her side of the story?”

Maria wilts, smiling awkwardly. “Um… We haven’t had time to ask…”

Sirius’s eyes narrow. “Really?”

“Council President, a student has been seriously injured on the grounds of this academy. It is only thanks to the kindness of my fellow councilwoman –” she gestures to Maria “– that said student was able to walk away with no impacts to her health.” Her eyes narrow. “Are you seriously going to penalize her for effectively taking action to help a fellow student?”

“Of course not,” Sirius responds, smiling gently, “but what is the evidence that an attack has even occurred? I do not doubt Miss Maria’s word, but surely you understand that I cannot pursue the matter without actual evidence?” He pauses. “Do you even have a suspect, Lady Claes?”

The brunette simply glares at him, eyes burning with fury.

He makes a sighing motion as he turns back to the blonde. “I understand why you two brought this to me so quickly, but I cannot take action without proof.”

Katarina crosses her arms and tilts back her head as she leers at the president. “This is ridiculous. Are our words as councilwomen not enough to at least begin an official inquiry into the matter?”

Sirius smiles weakly. “Lady Claes… You do remember that you are under investigation as well.”

The brunette grits her teeth. “That has no bearing on this.”

“Yes, but it shows why we must respect due process, don’t you agree?” He shakes his head. “If you two can procure more evidence for Councilwoman Maria’s allegations – which should not be difficult if the events did occur as you state – you will have my full support in this matter.” He looks at Katarina, a glimmer of something strange in his eyes. “But only then.”

Katarina fumes as she leaves the council chambers; her body tensing like a coiled spring. Maria looks on with trepidation as they walk down the hallway.

“Lady Katarina,” she eventually says, “Perhaps it would be best to gather evidence? I mean, you were just talking to Lady Nelson… I’m sure she’d be willing to tell you what happened.”

“I presume she had good reason to not tell me,” she replies, looking straight ahead as she carves a path through the students wandering the halls. “I do not intend to ask her until I find out what that is.”

Already, her head is buzzing with possibilities. Sienna’s attacker is almost certainly a noble of higher standing – but given the current status of House Nelson, that does little to narrow things down. The fact that the attacker is a fire mage is more. “There are not many fire mages who would be capable of this.”

“Right… but are you planning to interrogate all of them?” Maria’s expression is troubled. “It’s an uncommon attunement, but it’s not that uncommon.”

It does not matter. She knows where to start. “Check the council records. See if there were any accidents reported on that day.” With a cold stare, she turns to the light mage. “Leave this to me.”

Red hot rage chills to cold fury as Katarina pushes her way through the academy’s halls. It’s comforting, in a way. This is a familiar feeling. One she had almost forgotten.

As she steps into one of the common areas, she finds her quarry. “Mirabelle.”

The raven-haired fire mage goes pale as she looks over her shoulder. “L-Lady Claes!?” At the tone of her voice, several nearby students take the chance to flee.

In a few short strides, Katarina closes the distance. She stands there, far too close, as her glare bores a hole between the fire mage’s orange eyes. Then, after letting her squirm for a moment, she draws back, putting on a false smile. “I must admit, Lady Brandt, you’ve surprised me. I hadn’t expected someone from such a lowly family to be so bold.”

Mirabelle shrinks back, sweat pooling on her forehead. “B-Bold?”

“Oh, yes! Not many would be willing to falsely ally and betray the firstborn daughter of a ducal house. Perhaps you mistook my past leniency as weakness? Or did you think that your rank allowed you to attack someone under my protection?” She circles the shaking fire mage like a viper, allowing an ugly smirk to crawl across her lips. “Perhaps I could understand if it was petty bullying, but I thought you’d already learnt your lesson about burning people.”

“Lady Claes...” Mirabelle’s breath shakes as she looks her in the eye. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The brunette’s false smile falls, cold eyes narrowing as she scrutinizes every feature of the fire mage’s face. She folds her hands behind her back, leering close as she continues to circle. “Are you certain, Lady Brandt? Because, as severe a punishment I will inflict upon you if you did this…” she takes a deep breath, leaning into her ear as a wicked smile parts her lips “…it will not compare to what awaits you if I find out you are lying to me.”

The raven-haired woman audibly gulps with an expression of pure terror on her pale face. “L-Lady Claes… I have not attacked Maria. That is the honest truth.”

Katarina pulls back with a snort, cold eyes glaring at full bore. “Oh, it is not Miss Campbell that brings me here.” She slows her pace as her boots thud against the wooden floor, expression darkening into a commanding frown. “Where were you the afternoon of the eve of summer break?”

“I-I was in my carriage, riding back to my estate!” Mirabelle stammers.

“Prior to that, did you interact with any students or faculty?”

The fire mage tenses, orange eyes darting around as she scrambles to recall the distant events. “I, uh… talked with Lady Talys, Lady Estella, Professor Gerran…” she clutches the red dress above her heart, biting her lip as she struggles to remember. “I think Sienna as well?”

The duke’s daughter is on her in an instant, leering over her as she quite literally casts her in shadow. “Elaborate.”

“Um… I don’t quite recall exactly what we talked about?” Mirabelle squeaks, shrinking into herself. “I told her some noble had been looking for her, but she didn’t really seem interested.”

“Who? Who was looking for her?”

Mirabelle once again swallows dryly as her back presses against the wall. Her voice jumps several octaves as she again replies. “I-I didn’t talk to her directly! All I know is that she wanted to—”

“Katarina Claes!” shouts another voice. “That is enough!”

Katarina’s head whips to face the interloper, cold fury etched in her features.

The flat expression of Prince Gerald stares back.

In the moment her concentration wanes, Mirabelle makes a hasty retreat. When Katarina turns back to where the fire mage had been only a moment earlier, she finds the girl halfway across the room. Her expression of anger morphs into dull surprise. Frustrating as it is, she has to admit that Lady Brandt clearly knows when to cut and run. She was so close to getting a lead, too! It is unfortunate how difficult it will be now to arrange a repeat audience.

Her focus now returns to her fiancé, marching towards her with an expression that’s as stern as it is confused. He stops at her side, gesturing her forward as he leads her to an empty classroom. Katarina can barely resist the urge to roll her eyes as she follows.

When they arrive, he closes the door behind them. Raising a palm to his forehead, he sighs. “I thought you were past the bullying, Katarina.”

Katarina crosses her arms. “That wasn’t bullying. That was an investigation.”

He tilts his head, blue eyes narrowed in skepticism. “You had Lady Brandt pinned against a wall.”

“Sienna Nelson was attacked by a fire mage.”

The third prince’s composure immediately falters, eyes blinking in surprise. “What? When?”

Somewhat annoyed at having to repeat the story for a third time, Katarina quickly exposits on the details of the assault just prior to summer break, and Maria’s testimony to that end.

The prince nods, bringing a hand to his chin as he’s suddenly lost in thought. “And you think Lady Brandt was responsible?”

“I did.” She frowns. “Even when she denied it, I had to be certain.”

He looks up from his thoughts, lips pursed. “Do you still think so?”

She shakes her head, sighing. “No. But I wasn’t going to let her realize that. Not until I was confident she was truly innocent.” She glares at him, frown deepening. “Until you interrupted.”

The prince’s expression softens as he glances away briefly. “I apologize for jumping to conclusions.” After a moment, he turns back to her with a serious expression. “Still… You were harassing her, Katarina. She was obviously terrified.”

The brunette shifts uncomfortably as he says it, eyes focusing on an empty desk. “I was going to apologize afterward.”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

She snaps back to him, jabbing a gloved finger at his face. “Oh, you do not get to lecture me on this. Where was your measured response when you murdered me!?”

The third prince tilts his head in genuine confusion, and Katarina feels a sudden migraine as she slumps against a table. Oh. Right. This wasn’t… the same him. She closes her eyes and lets out a droning sigh of exasperation.

There’s a long period of silence before she hears his voice again.

“Let me help you.”

“No. I have to do this,” she growls, opening a single angry eye. With a gloved hand, she points to herself. “Sienna is my friend, and my responsibility.”

He sighs, shuffling awkwardly. “Then talk to her. Ask her what happened. Don’t do…” he waves his hand “…this.”

She sighs, closing her eyes as she groans.

“Sienna? We need to talk.”

The noblewoman glances over her shoulder, surprised by Katarina’s stern tone. She closes the book on her desk – another, much smaller tome than the one she was carrying before – and places her quill down beside her notebook. Cautiously, she rises to her feet. “What is it, Lady Katarina?” Voice softening slightly, she tilts her head. “Is something wrong?”

“I know what happened on the last day before summer.”

Katarina’s worst fears are confirmed as the baron’s daughter stiffens. Her eyes narrow in thought, and a moment later, she spits a single word. “Campbell.” She looks up at the duke’s daughter. “She told you, didn’t she?”

She seems almost angry about it, in a way that baffles Katarina.

“You were attacked.”

Sienna goes still. After a long pause, she averts her eyes and nods. “…Yes.”

There’s a grunt of surprise as Katarina suddenly embraces her, squeezing her friend tightly as she buries her face in her dress. She can almost smell the soft pine of her mountain manor…

Sienna is considerably less comfortable with the affection, squirming and gently pushing the noblewoman away as her cheeks flush. “Lady Katarina, please.”

She nods, pulling back from the embrace as her eyes grow cold. “Who did this?” Her tone is dark. “Who dared injure you?”

The noblewoman takes a moment to compose herself; golden eyes glancing at her surroundings as her red cheeks fade. After another moment of hesitation, she relents. “Noelia Flores.”

When Katarina hears the words, it all makes sense.

She has very little involvement with Lady Flores – in both this life and the prior one. But Katarina knows of her.

And she is going to make her pay.

Chapter Text

Katarina is still thinking of revenge as Isabel puts the finishing touches on her evening dress.

It’s not that she’s in the mood to be celebratory. On the contrary, she is still quite livid! But, as a council member, her presence at the ball will be expected: It would be quite the faux pas to fail to attend.

Her vanity mirror reflects her bitter smirk as Isabel brushes her hair. To think that she used to be jealous of the council members for their position! As if it is a joy to devote so much of her time and energy to her coursework and the council bureaucracy.

Still… it is not all that bad. In her past life, she had very little interaction with the council members outside of Keith, Gerald, and the harlot. In this life, she has found most of them to be quite pleasant! Certainly, sometimes her thoughts still drift to Lady Bethany’s get-togethers and Lady Talys’ tea parties… but, she only has so much time in her day, and neither one of them seem too interested in inviting her now.

Her reflection frowns at that. She does hope they are doing alright, even if they have cut ties with her. But most of the events she recalled have not happened. They probably will never happen now, given how much the events of the academy year have already been altered by her actions.

She shakes her head gently as she clears her mind of those thoughts, causing Isabel to accidentally bat the brush into her face. Katarina looks up at the maid with a cold glare, and the green-eyed woman pales and offers a quick apology before resuming at a more deliberate pace.

A darker thought occurs to Katarina. Given what little she knows of her, Noelia seems likely to attend. She may see her enemy calmly dancing across the floor, and she is not sure she will be able to contain herself if she does. It has already taken a great deal of pleading and reasoning from Sienna to talk her down from confronting the absolute wretch of a woman immediately after she’d confirmed the truth. Sienna’s points had been logical, of course, but it bothers Katarina to know that Lady Flores is currently facing absolutely no consequence for her heinous attack.

She closes her eyes and takes a calming breath. She will try and control her anger; wear the mask of a smile as Mother taught her. It is unbecoming of a lady to act undignified to another, after all. Besides… Lady Flores will pay for her actions in due time.

Katarina will make sure of it.

Right on schedule, Katarina hears a knock at her door. The brunette opens her eyes and glances up at Isabel. The anxious maid looks at her, then back to the exit of her room with wide eyes. With a small gulp she nods, bows, and then rushes over to get the door.

Katarina sighs as she rises to her feet and brushes down her dress. She has decided to wear something different this go-around, and while she does not need Prince Gerald’s approval… she hopes he likes it.

That’s why she’s certain she enjoys the way the third prince’s eyes bulge out of his head when she steps out to greet him.

The third prince himself is perhaps unsurprisingly wearing the same outfit he had her last lifetime, which is to say a white suit and overcoat accentuated with golden embellishments not too dissimilar from his usual get-up – minus the cape.

She, on the other hand, has picked out a deep purple-blue sleeveless dress of uniform color, accentuated with studded jewels of light blue and a gradient purple neckerchief, with a matching bow and ribbon clipped to the back of her hair. Still, the true magic happens when she moves – when the enchanted fabric faintly reflects a stationary, starry sky. Like a gap in space, she moves, but the night does not.

She can’t hide her grin as Gerald watches her every movement as she steps toward him; his usually-confident blue eyes wide as this lady of the cosmos approaches her.

The outfit cost her just about every cent of her not-inconsiderable allowance, and the enchanting took much of the free time she’d had over summer outside of studying and hosting guests, plus nearly blacking-out from magical exhaustion multiple times over… but it is hers; it feels nice.

And, hopefully, it will ensure that his eyes remain firmly on her this entire night.

As she steps through the doors to the main common area with Gerald at her arm, Katarina realizes that she may have been entirely too successful.

Slowly, at first, but soon quite quickly, almost every eye in the room is upon her. Even the hired orchestra skips a beat as the conductor glances over his shoulder. Her smile strains. Do they like it? Hate it? She can’t tell what they’re saying, but there are suddenly very many people whispering to each other.

“This was a mistake,” she whispers, feeling a very sudden urge to run right back through the door.

Gerald, the utter cad, simply locks his arm tighter and pulls her forward with a smile.

The anticipated jeers do not materialize, however, and most of the ball-goers’ attentions soon return to each other… though a few seem to focus on her in ways she can’t quite read. Admiration? Approval? Envy? She’s so overwhelmed that she can hardly think – her thoughts are running a mile a minute.

It hadn’t been like this, last time. She’d stepped out onto these marble floors knowing she owned the room and all within it. Even as she tightened her grip on Gerald’s arm – even as his gaze drifted to a certain blonde – she’d quash all voices within her that would say she was anything but exemplary.

Even knowing the fate it leads her to, part of Katarina still misses that blind, stupid confidence.

Still, she manages to keep up her smile as she engages in small pleasantries with half-remembered classmates and faculty members. Gerald even covers for her the few times their names slip from her mind, and she pretends to care about the weather, or the color of their necklace, or whatever triviality they discuss.

Almost insidiously, she begins to find that she’s enjoying herself. There are so many strangers trying to talk to her; so many curious looks as her heels clack against the floor. Sure, it’s banal, but it’s been a long, long while since she’s felt so appreciated. It actually begins to make her feel more invested in the small-talk as well.

“Why, of course that necklace looks good on you, Lady Rhys! The green really brings out your eyes!”

“Oh, Lord Matthew, black really is your color!”

“Yes, the weather has been quite agreeable for the season, hasn’t it, Professor Babcock?”

“Oh, this dress? Why, I enchanted it myself!”

She finds it surprisingly pleasant to see their smiles widen and their faces brighten as she laughs and schmoozes with the lot of them. She’s always been a socialite, of course, but she’s had so little time to relax and talk as of late. Even then, she’s never really… listened before. Not the way she is now, where she finds herself actually caring what these random people think of her.

She almost doesn’t realize how long it’s been when the last of the crowd surrounding them disperses. Only a glance at the room’s tall windows – now showing a sky much like her gown – make her realize how much time she’s spent on small-talk and pleasantries.

“You handled that well,” Gerald says, nodding as he looks at her with a smile. “I wasn’t sure you would have the patience to last through them all.” His voice is somewhat hushed; not quite whispering, but still only loud enough for her to hear. “I was getting quite annoyed near the end.”

Katarina nods before trying to look over the assembled party-goers. “Do you see the other council members?”

Unfortunately, the blond prince is only barely taller than she is. He steps up on his toes as his eyes narrow. After a moment, he falls back to his feet and shakes his head. “Not from here.”

She frowns at that. She probably would not have even attended if her presence had not been expected. Even if she thinks differently now, it would still sting to realize if she and Gerald had been the only two to bother – not to mention that it would seem out of character for the rest of them. She’s not expecting to see Keith (and still has not, thankfully), and part of her doubts the Ascarts will make an appearance (she can’t quite recall them attending last time), but where are Alan, Maria, and Sirius?

“Ah. Speak of the devil,” says Gerald.

Alan frowns as he emerges from the crowd and locks eyes with Gerald. Lady Hunt emerges shortly after, mirroring his expression as she locks eyes with Katarina.

Then, the two turn to their opposites, and their gazes soften.

“There you are, Lady Katarina!” Alan says, offering a wide smile. “We couldn’t see you, and there was this big crowd of people, and—”

He stops, jaw dropping as his eyes look over Katarina’s full outfit. In an instant, he seems to realize what exactly – or rather, who exactly – had drawn in that crowd.

“Hello, Prince Alan,” she curtsies, making sure to emphasize the movement of the fabric as she does. “It’s good to see you.”

Alan gapes at her for a somewhat uncomfortable length; giving Katarina plenty of time to look over his own outfit. Unlike his brother, the fourth prince has traded his usual overcoat and scarf for a more traditional black suit, black tie, and white undershirt. Without all the padding, the breadth of his frame is more readily apparent. Perhaps due his reputation as a sickly child, Katarina has never quite noticed how… well-built Alan is.

Lady Hunt suddenly clutches Alan’s arm, starring daggers at Katarina.

Katarina shakes her head, her warm cheeks informing her she’s perhaps gotten a bit too distracted. “And hello to you too, Lady Hunt.” She tries to keep her distaste from her voice. “You look stunning tonight.” Despite her feud with the girl, it’s not an empty compliment – the tight fit of Lady Hunt’s light-green gown really is quite distracting.

Lady Hunt nods, showing the pink roses in her copper hair. “Thank you, Lady Claes.”

For a moment, the three assembled wait for her to return the compliment… but it’s not forthcoming.

Katarina’s jaw clenches. How petty.

As the awkward moment continues to drag on, Gerald clears his throat and looks to his brother. “Pardon me, Alan… but perhaps you and your fiancée should get some air?” He again puts a strange emphasis on the word. “I think Lady Hunt would love to see the grounds at night.”

The noblewoman’s auburn eyes brighten as she looks toward Alan. “That sounds like a wonderful idea, Alan! Just the two of us!”

But Alan suddenly stiffens. “What? Am I not allowed to stand next to you, Gerald?”

The third prince’s smile strains. “That’s not what I mean—”

But it’s too late. The silver-haired prince closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Nope. I’m staying right here until I feel like leaving.”

Another awkward silence descends upon the three of them. Gerald offers a strangely sympathetic look to Lady Hunt as the woman glares at her fiancé at her side.

Not yet entirely drained of her good mood, Katarina attempts another peace offering. “So, Lady Hunt: How are your studies going?”

The woman, for some inexplicable reason, snaps to her with a poisonous smile. “Oh, much better than before! I would have no difficulties placing on the council now!”

Katarina fights to retain her grin, trying to keep the hostility from affecting her. “Well, it looks like there may be an opening sooner than any of us thought.”

“Indeed,” Lady Hunt replies. “I suppose it shows how little some of us value family.”

Katarina’s pleasant expression immediately falls into a scowl. “You have no right to judge me.”

Chipper as ever and not letting her smile fall one inch, Lady Hunt responds. “I suppose not. I would not have any experience with being rejected for my parentage, after all.”

Now, Katarina is confused. Lady Hunt is absolutely right that she does not understand the situation one bit. So why does her tone sound so sarcastic?

“Come on, Mary,” Alan sighs. “Can’t you try and be civil with her?”

Lady Hunt’s fake smile falls into a frown as she turns to Alan, still holding his arm tight. “What? Like you don’t have any misgivings about the way she treats her brother, Alan?”

Alan hesitates for a moment, but shakes his head. “Mary, it’s a party! We don’t need to be talking about this now!”

For a split second, her expression erupts into one of absolute heartbreak, but the next, she composes herself. “Alan. Perhaps Prince Gerald is right. I think I need a moment.”

She lets go of his arm.

“I will be in the gardens if you need me.”

Then, with surprising speed, she takes off to the edge of the room and disappears into the crowd.

Alan sighs, gripping his forehead. “I’m sorry, Lady Katarina. She’s been getting more and more worked-up about you.” He shakes his head, looking at her with wide eyes. “I’ve never seen her say an unkind word to anyone before! I promise she’s not normally like this.”

Katarina groans. “It is alright, Prince Alan.” She looks in the direction the noblewoman had taken off. “I seem to have a knack for making enemies, it seems…”

“Anyway… I do need to check up on her, so…” He sighs, shaking his head. “I guess I’ll see you later, Lady Katarina.” He turns to Gerald, and adds in a colder tone, “You too, I guess…”

Before she even really has time to respond, he’s gone.

Gerald sighs. “Well… That was something.” With a somewhat strained smile, he turns to his fiancée. “Is there something going on between you two?”

Katarina eyes him cautiously. “No? Lady Hunt will not even associate with me. I have no idea why she’s so angry.”

His smile strains, but he nods. “Not quite who I meant, but I believe I understand the situation nonetheless. Still, to see Lady Hunt acting like that…” He chuckles darkly. “I honestly didn’t believe the rumors about you two.”

Katarina’s nose wrinkles. “There are rumors?”

But the third prince brushes past her question. “You needn’t worry about those two, Lady Katarina. Let’s just enjoy this night like we were before.” He holds out his other hand as he invites her to dance. “Shall we?”

Despite her trepidation… she can’t deny the anticipation she feels as the orchestra suddenly swells.

Katarina excuses herself from another expertly-executed waltz as she feels her stomach rumble, weaving through the spinning circles of dancers as she makes her way to the refreshment table. Perhaps she’s a bit too enthusiastic to fill herself with sweets, as when she looks back, she realizes she’s lost sight of Gerald.

Whoops.

She pushes away her embarrassment as she grabs a plate from the stack and quickly fills it with treats. In a few moments, it’s full, and despite her fervor, she manages to claw back her eager hand from stacking another pastry on the assemblage. She has a figure to watch, after all. No matter how torturous seeing all that delicious food going untouched may be…

She tears her head away, quickly putting some distance between her and the food as she focuses on the more-than-modest assortment of sugary sweetness topping her plate. Gods above, it looks so good. Were she not in public, she fears she may drool.

Instead, she very delicately places it on a standing table, and elegantly and quietly takes her first bite.

That’s when she sees a pale white blur in the corner of her eye.

She can’t quite enjoy the sweet sugary pastry as she sees Sophia stuck to Lord Ascart, shivering slightly as she grips his hand tightly. Has something happened? The girl looks terribly frightened.

Exercising every bit of willpower she’s gained from ten years of etiquette training, she places the bitten-into roll back onto her plate before stepping away from the table, ignoring her stomach’s screams of protest. She will be back, after all.

Sophia sees her before she’s close enough to speak, her crimson eyes going wide as she takes in her dress. Nicol follows his sister’s gaze, his own expression relaxing slightly as she takes her in. Seeing his face under the warm light of the common room, Katarina has to admit that she can see why he’s so popular among so many of her female classmates.

Shame about that personality of his.

She shakes her head, turning her focus to Sophia. The noblewoman brightens up immediately, a warm smile spreading across her lips. “L-Lady Katarina!” Her cheeks redden. “I love your dress!”

Katarina returns the smile… and perhaps a bit of the blush. “You look quite fetching yourself, Sophia.” The girl has styled her long, pale hair behind her head, wearing a set of gold earrings above a pink dress adorned with a purple ribbon. Katarina drops a hand to her hips, bringing the other to her chin as she really examines the get-up. “It really draws out the color of your eyes, you know.”

The noble seems to practically melt at that, her face going beet-red as her eyes dip to the floor. “T-Thank you, Lady Katarina…”

Nicol takes the moment to pat his sister on the back. “See? Lady Claes thinks you look good.”

She looks over her shoulder, still blushing. “I-I know that, b-but…”

Katarina arches a brow. “Hm? What’s wrong, Sophia?” She crouches down on her knees to bring her face closer to hers. “Didn’t I tell you to have pride in yourself?”

The noblewoman seems to be having extreme difficulty in meeting her eyes. “W-Well… yes, but…” She glances to the dance floor, then back to Katarina. “W-Well…”

Katarina’s eyes narrow as she begins to stroke her chin. Then, her eyes narrow as a grin crosses her lips. “Sophia, you know how to waltz, don’t you?”

The little noble has barely nodded before Katarina grabs her by the hands and sweeps her onto her feet.

Nicol looks up in surprise. “Wait—!”

But Katarina ignores him. “You remember the rhythm, right?” She tugs her toward the dance floor as she continues to talk. “Just look at me, and focus on the music.”

A strange calm seems to descend over Sophia, the stars of Katarina’s dress sparkling in her eyes. She swallows dryly. “O-Okay.”

“Now… Step-two-three! Step-two-three!” She begins to move as she speaks in time with the music, pulling the hapless Ascart along with her as the orchestra belts out note after note.

Sophia seems almost petrified at first and Katarina worries if she’s perhaps gone too far. But, after a moment, the girl begins to follow her movements. “S-Step, two, three… Step, two, three…”

It’s not quite the most elegant dance, as Katarina has only academic experience with being the lead, and Sophia seems to have only academic experience at all, but it very quickly resolves into something at least approaching graceful.

Besides, Katarina honestly does not care what anyone else is seeing right now. The only person who needs to watch this performance is right in front of her.

“Okay… you hear the section in the song right now? There’s a big swell coming up.”

The Ascart barely seems to be listening as she nods; cheeks red and mouth agape.

“When that arrives, I’m going to push you back, and you need to spin, okay?” She tries to project confidence, but she’s never actually done this part of the act before. Usually, the man is the lead, after all. Still, she can improvise, can’t she?

Sophia seems to focus on her words, nodding gently as her lips purse in determination. “G-Got it.”

“Alright. Get ready…”

As Katarina predicted, the orchestra swells in intensity. She lets go of Sophia’s left hand, letting the other rise above her head as she takes a step back. The noblewoman hesitates for only a second before closing her eyes, lifting one of her feet, and swirling atop her other.

The display that unfolds is quite dramatic as the girl’s white hair flays out with the spin, encircling her in a shroud of soft white as she becomes little more than a blur. She holds the spin a moment too long – just a moment after the orchestra returns to its sedate pace, and so quickly reaches back out to Katarina as she stumbles forward with a somewhat nauseated grin. “That was—!”

“Step-two-three!” Katarina quickly reminds her, and her eyes go wide as she resumes the motion. After making sure they’re back in sync with the music, Katarina spares her a nod. “Fun, right?”

“I was going to say exhilarating,” Sophia replies, practically sighing the word. Suddenly, her cheeks go deep red. “A-And I just did it in f-front of all those p-people?”

Katarina spares her a particularly evil grin. “In front of every single one.”

The petite noblewoman goes still in her arms and begins to tip backward like she’s going to faint. Katarina stops dancing and moves to catch her, but Sophia manages to right herself at the last moment.

“N-No… I’m… fine.” Sophia says breathlessly, brushing away a strand of white hair as she looks at Katarina with a warm grin. She holds out her hands once more. “S-Step, two, three, right?”

Katarina smiles back at her, taking her hands as they resume the waltz.

When Sophia is finally tuckered out, they make their way to the edge of the dance floor to find Nicol waiting, wearing something actually approximating a smile as he looks at Katarina.

“Nicol, Nicol, I did it!” Practically howling with laughter, Sophia pumps her fists and jumps in the air. “I waltzed! I waltzed with Lady Katarina!”

“I saw,” he replies. It’s all he says, but his voice is full of warmth as he grins at her.

Sophia continues cackling like a madwoman. “Oh, and in front of everyone too! Everyone! And I wasn’t even a little scared!”

“Well… there was that one time,” Katarina teases, and the white-haired girl actually sticks her tongue out at her.

“Oh, don’t be mean!”

It’s childish, un-ladylike, and totally inappropriate for the setting…

So, Katarina sticks out her tongue right back.

That time, they both laugh.

Before she knows it, there’s another crowd gathered around her. Not the strangers she saw before, of course, but her classmates. Her fellow councilmembers. Her friends.

There are a few missing faces, of course. Sienna – never much the socialite – has chosen not to attend, and Keith – being suspended from the council – doesn’t seem to care much to make a public appearance with them. Katarina is not too perturbed by either of their absences, given their context, though she does wonder if she can coax Sienna into being more outgoing in the future. What weighs on her a bit more are Alan and Lady Hunt’s continuing absence.

Still, Gerald was right to tell her not to worry about them. As unfortunate a state their relationship seems to be in, whatever is going on between them obviously has nothing to do with her. It is best that she refrains from being further tangled in their dispute.

So, Katarina takes a bite of a surprisingly good sugar cookie.

Maria flashes an uncharacteristically smug grin as she steps toward the lady’s table. She looks a bit out of place with her white dress – Katarina realizes now that the visual similarity to a wedding dress is not coincidental, the poor thing clearly being unable to afford anything but a hand-me-down – but she doesn’t seem the slightest bit embarrassed as she looks at Katarina with those wide blue eyes. Not that Katarina can blame her: The girl really can pull anything off.

“Lady Katarina,” Maria drawls almost teasingly, “Does that treat remind you of anything?”

Katarina almost doesn’t hear her question over the flavor explosion in her mouth. Gods above, this stuff is good.

Maria doesn’t let up, her cheeks growing pink as she steps closer with an appraising grin. “Does it seem… familiar at all?”

Katarina stops mid bite, swallowing the cookie in her mouth as she turns to the commoner with wide eyes. “You made all of this?”

“Well, not all of it, but…” Her grin widens. “Since I now have official sanction to use the kitchen, I thought I might help out with the catering.” Her voice drops to a low, conspiratorial tone. “Don’t tell the other nobles.”

Katarina looks back to Maria, than the half-eaten cookie in her hand, then back to Maria. “I think I could kiss you.”

Maria reacts a bit strangely to her joke, clasping her hands together and going beet-red as she pulls away. “Um, w-well…” She pauses, seeming to consider it. “If you w-wan—”

“Say, Councilwoman! There you are!”

Lord Sirius seems to slide in from nowhere, joining the other council members as he struts a surprisingly dapper suit on a surprisingly distracting frame. Gods above, are all her fellow council members such effortless teases?

Maria seems a little disappointed by his presence, though. “President?”

Meanwhile, Katarina flashes him a polite smile. “Hello, Lord Sirius.”

He flashes one right back – it almost seems genuine – and turns back to Maria. “How goes the ball?”

Maria frowns, trying to look over his shoulder. “G-Good?” She shakes her head. “Um… President—“

She doesn’t quite catch the rest, as she jumps when she feels Gerald tap her shoulder.

“I saw you on the dance floor with Lady Ascart.” His smile turns a shade strained. “I’m still not sure whether to be jealous or proud.”

Katarina’s lips curl into a cat-like grin. “How about both? Both sounds nice.”

That actually gets a genuine chuckle out of him. “Fair enough.” Followed by a genuine grin. “I suspect you’ll have some trouble getting a ‘thank you’ out of Nicol, but trust me: He’s very grateful.” Then, he frowns. “Maybe a bit too grateful, given his sister’s tastes…”

Katarina’s brow furrows. “Pardon?”

Gerald jumps slightly; seeming surprised at saying the sentence out loud, and waves a hand dismissively. “Never-mind that.” The smile returns to his lips. “You did a good thing.”

She sighs, looking away. “I just wanted her to be happy. You don’t need to treat me like I’m some kind of saint for it.”

“Oh, but when did I say you were a saint?”

She snaps back at him with an annoyed scowl, triggering another bout of laughter.

“No, but seriously,” he says once his amusement fades. “Thank you. From me, if not from him.”

She’s just about to reply when she sees her: The black hair; the purple eyes.

Noelia Flores is looking at her from across the room.

Katarina’s fists clench. Her teeth grind. Her heel clicks as she takes a step toward her.

Gerald’s hand is on her shoulder the moment she follows her gaze. He doesn’t say a word: He just stares at her. But she understands his meaning.

Leaving that wretch with one last dirty glare, Katarina turns her back to her once more.

She has better people to talk to right now.

Chapter Text

Katarina looks down at the state of her dress, mouth widening as she watches the sticky syrup soak into its every seam.

Isabel at least looks appropriately mortified, the already pale-faced maid going an even lighter shade of white as she holds the dripping pitcher with a trembling hand. “M-My L-Lady—”

The words die in Isabel’s throat as her lady lunges at her with cold rage in her eyes.

“You,” Katarina hisses. “Out of all the servants in the house, Joana chose you as Anne’s substitute?” Her eyes narrow as she looms over the green-eyed maid. “Even on a temporary basis… Your performance is utterly unacceptable.”

The raven-haired woman wilts beneath her glare, clutching her braid in both hands as she wisely keeps quiet.

“Anne has served with me for almost a decade. Did you think she was the first?” Her eyes narrow even further. “Do you think I do not know how to deal with incompetents unworthy of House Claes?”

A very particular set of words sits at the edge of her lips, just waiting to be spoken. Mother will not contradict her decision. Neither will Father. She can simply say those words and – like many an inept servant before her – Isabel will never blight her sight again.

Katarina opens her mouth to do just that, and Isabel collapses to her knees. She bows her head all the way to the floor as her body trembles. “P-Please don’t hurt me!”

The anger fades from Katarina’s body, replaced by confusion.

The trembling woman looks up from the floor, face white as a bedsheet. “M-My Lady, I m-mean…”

There’s a story there, but she doubts it’s worth her time to unpack. What stands out to Katarina is the genuine terror in her eyes.

Katarina frowns at that, feeling her confusion morph into trepidation. She’d never hit a servant. She never has. She expects much of them, certainly, but that is their duty as employees of a ducal house. Those unable to fulfill that role do not belong in her family’s employ, and she does not mince words when informing them of such.

But it bothers her that Isabel would think she’d strike her.

Katarina tries to ignore it. To just say the words that were ready to exit her lips just a moment earlier. She doesn’t need to explain herself to this soon-to-be unemployed woman: What she needs is help that won’t carelessly pour pancake syrup on her head.

So why can’t she just say it!?

Katarina groans in frustration as she stomps her foot and closes her eyes. A split second later, they’re wide open and she’s once again hovering over the young maid. “I will give you one last chance to keep your livelihood,” she threatens, crouching down to her knees as she jabs a gloved finger in Isabel’s face. “One. Last. Chance.”

The young woman nods quickly.

“You are going to fix this mess,” she continues. “You are going to finish getting me ready for the day.” Her eyes narrow. “And you will not make any more mistakes, understood?”

Isabel’s head is practically a blur as she nods even faster.

Katarina just frowns as she returns to full height, crossing her arms as the woman picks herself off the floor. If she cannot even manage that, then the noblewoman truly has no sympathy for her.

She does not enjoy the look Professor Lucille gives her when she stumbles into her Sorciéran History class half-an-hour late. The gray-haired woman does not say anything – Katarina surmises that she understands the risks of calling out the daughter of Duke Claes – but it’s hard not to notice the way she glares at her for the rest of the period.

She’s thus very grateful when the distant chime of the clock tower bell soon echoes through the room and they’re dismissed – even as her notes on the Third Founding of Ethnell remain woefully incomplete. She’ll need to ask one of her friends to help her later, she supposes… Regardless of her past life, she is quite confident this will be on the exam now.

As her classmates pour into the hallway, Katarina turns to take an alternate route. She has a detour to make.

Maria beams at Katarina as the noblewoman walks with her down the academy halls. “Thanks again for walking me to my next class, Lady Katarina. Nobody bothers me when you’re around.”

Katarina nods her head, eying a group of noblewoman suspiciously as they catch sight of her and suddenly decide to take another route. “I should hope not,” she replies. Her frown deepens. “In fact, I should hope you are not bothered at all walking around the academy going forward.”

The light mage’s smile strains at that, and she suddenly hugs her book bag to her chest. “U-Unfortunately, I don’t think we’re at that point yet…”

The noble lady purses her lips. She knows that this place can be a den of vipers – she has plenty of experience being one of said vipers herself – but the amount of harassment Maria receives is simply baffling. It’s not like anyone else has the excuse of mistaking the poor girl for a woman who utterly ruined their life.

While Katarina understands the importance of class more than anyone, she also knows that even those of lower status can be truly exceptional: Anne is a prime example, as well as Sienna, and, of course, the girl currently at her side. She would be foolish to look down upon any of them just for the circumstances of their births. What is so hard to understand about that?

“By the way, Lady Katarina,” Maria says, interrupting her confusion. ”Have you talked to Lady Nelson?”

Katarina nods. “I didn’t want to bring it up at the party, but yes. And she confirmed what you said…” her lips curl into a frown “…reluctantly.”

Maria nods, though her expression radiates confusion. “Why wouldn’t she want to tell you what happened?”

“I do not know,” Katarina replies. “It’s not as if I do not outrank that Flores wretch. Why be so reluctant to identify her?”

Maria’s eyes go wide. “Flores?”

Katarina looks back to her, nodding. Her voice drops to a whisper. “Noelia Flores. Marquis Flores’ daughter. She is the one who attacked Sienna.”

Maria averts her eyes. “I am familiar with her.” Her voice is weary, and she does not elaborate.

Katarina’s gloves tighten into fists as she walks. She mentally adds a tally to the debts she will extract in that wretch’s retribution.

Then, her frown morphs into confusion, and her wrists go limp. She turns to Maria, stopping in the middle of the hall as students stream by. “If she has already harassed you, why not report her?”

Maria freezes mid-stride, looking over her shoulder first in surprise, then guilt. “She is a powerful noblewoman. I don’t know what she’d do…”

Katarina’s eyes narrow as she reaches an arm to Maria’s shoulder. The girl yelps in confusion as the brunette grabs her sleeve and pulls her down an intersection into a desolate corridor. When they finally stop, Katarina turns to face the girl, finding Maria looking at her with wide blue eyes as she looms over her.

“Maria,” Katarina sighs. “Have you forgotten that I am a powerful noblewoman as well?”

Her cheeks flush red as she averts her eyes. “Well…”

The duke’s daughter clicks her tongue, shaking her head as she turns up her nose. “Have you not considered that I would protect you from that wretch? Do you believe that I am the kind of woman who abandons those important to me?”

“No!” Maria shakes her head as she looks back at her with a determined gaze. “Of course not!”

Katarina nods. Satisfied with her answer, she relaxes her hold on the blonde’s sleeve, reaching up to her shoulder as she gives it a gentle rub. She leans in close. “Then trust me. I will not let any harm come to you.”

The girl goes red as her lips twist in a strange admiration. Then, after a long period of silence, she speaks. “I… should testify against her,” Maria eventually says, and Katarina sees a determination erupt in her blue eyes even as the red in her cheeks fades. “I know I don’t get along with Lady Nelson, but what that woman did to her was…” her voice trails off, and she shakes her head in disbelief.

“I know Sienna won’t thank you, so let me do so on her behalf.” She gently rubs Maria’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

Maria nods, cheeks reddening once more. It still baffles her why the commoner seems so easily embarrassed around her… but it is not too displeasing to watch.

“Now, come along! I refuse to be late to another class.” She nudges Maria forward as she resumes her walk. The commoner lags behind slightly for a moment, but quickly stumbles back to speed.

“By the way…” Katarina says, still holding the girl’s back as she spares her a wicked grin “…that little stunt at the party was much more daring than I would have expected from you.”

The commoner’s face turns an even more iridescent red than it had just minutes before, suddenly appearing as though desperately wishing she could hide behind the book bag in her arms. “Um. That was…” She averts her eyes. “Lady Katarina… I didn’t intend to—”

“You’re not even a little nervous about what the guests thought of your sweets?”

Maria faces her with an expression of utter bewilderment, then, slowly, of understanding. “Oh! The sweets…” She laughs nervously. “Well…  I didn’t really intend to do more than make you something at the start… but the kitchen was so busy and the cooks were all in such a hurry…”

“You got caught up in it?”

“Sort of?” She giggles nervously. “I mean, I’d feel bad if I didn’t help out after how nice the chefs have been to me in the past…” Her blush fades but doesn’t disappear, as she shakes her head. “I honestly didn’t even think about who all would be eating them until it was already too late and once I got over the panic... she looks up at Katarina with an earnest smile, “…it was kind of exciting to know I’d have so many people eating my sweets!”

Katarina smiles right back, arching a single brow, as the two of them merge back into the stream of foot traffic. “Should I be jealous?”

The light mage shakes her head with a sudden determination. “Lady Katarina: I will make you a twenty layer cake if you so much as ask. You have nothing to be jealous of.”

The brunette quickly looks away to hide the bit of drool that escapes her mouth at the very appetizing thought. She cannot, unfortunately, mask the way her stomach growls. “I will… keep that in mind.”

Maria just laughs.

After a long day of work, Katarina makes her way to the student council chambers for their first meeting since their return to campus. The council chambers are unusually somber as she walks in. It only takes her a moment to realize why.

“Keith?”

The adopted Claes does not meet her eyes as he stands behind an empty seat at the long wooden table at the center of the room. The other council members look at him with a mixture of expressions. Some concerned, some nervous, and some obstinate… but none of them pleased.

“Did you not hear me?” Keith looks across the room, making eye contact with every single one of them. “I said I resign.”

Even Lord Sirius seems uncomfortable. “Lord Claes… Do you not wish to wait for the results of the investigation?”

The boy laughs mirthlessly. “Lord Sirius… Do you honestly believe that will matter?” He spares a glance at Katarina, his lips twisting into a frown. “They’ll never act against her.”

Katarina blinks, still not quite understanding what she’s walked in on. “You’re quitting?” She tilts her head, nose wrinkling in confusion. “You’re not even going to try and fight for your position?”

“Why would I want to work with any of you?” His glare turns venomous as he looks back to the others seated at the table. “You’ve chosen your side.” His eyes narrow as he singles out Maria. “I hope you’re happy with it.”

He spins on his heel and moves to the door, throwing it open and walking out into the hallway even as Lord Sirius calls out after him. The door slams closed behind him.

When Katarina turns her eyes back to the table, she finds Maria staring blankly ahead. The rest of the council members look between Katarina and the light mage with visible concern, clearly discomforted by Keith’s interaction.

“Well,” Sirius sighs. “I guess that puts an end to that, then…” He looks up to Katarina with a weak smile. “Not much use for an investigation at this point, is there?”

Strangely, he seems genuine. Or maybe she’s just gotten worse at reading him.

She tamps down the sudden spike of annoyance as she sees Gerald put a hand on Maria’s back, trying to comfort her. But the third prince simply turns to the council president with a look of complete bafflement. “President, do you have any idea what triggered this?”

The redhead shrugs, looking equally as confused. “I really don’t.” He turns to Katarina. “Lady Claes, do you?”

She grips her arm as all eyes – sans Maria’s – turn to her. She clicks her tongue. “Why do you all assume I had something to do with it?”

“Because he hates you,” Alan replies, blunt as always.

Katarina averts her eyes, looking out through the large windows at the evening sunset over the academy grounds. “I really do not know, Prince Alan.”

“It’s my fault,” a small voice says. All eyes turn to Maria, who looks down at her lap with a tearful expression. The blonde says nothing else, only steeling herself as she seems to just barely fight back tears.

Katarina can barely suppress the urge to scoff as she walks closer to the table. Keith? Maria’s fault? If she did not fear upsetting the light mage, she’d find the statement laughable. Instead, her frown deepens as she pulls back her chair and slides down into her seat.

Nicol shakes his head. “I knew Lord Claes was… troubled,” the Ascart sighs, “but I am increasingly worried about his mental state.”

Sophia nods along with him, brushing away one of her delicately-tied strands of hair as she puffs up her chest and leans closer to the table. “Is there something we can do?” She looks around the assembled group, her crimson eyes taking in everyone’s expressions. “I mean… can he even quit like that?”

“Do we even want him here?” Gerald looks to the stricken light mage, then to the brunette at his side. “If he no longer wishes to be part of this body, I am all for it.”

His statement ends up launching a bit of a debate. No-one seems too broken-up about the boy’s departure, but there seems to be very little consensus on how to handle it.

Katarina looks down at her lap, unable to follow the back and forth above the din of her own thoughts.

This is her victory, isn’t it? She’s forced him out of this space. Maybe not literally – after all, he has departed of his own volition – but she’s won nonetheless. This is quite literally exactly what she wanted from the moment she realized she’d won a seat on this council.

So… Why doesn’t she feel proud?

When Katarina opens the door to her dorm, Isabel practically jumps out of her skin. “M-My Lady,” she stammers. Her knuckles go white as she clutches her broom in her hands.

Katarina sighs, holding a gloved palm to the woman as she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She lets that hand fall when she opens them again, eying the woman with a serious expression as she places the other on her hip. “Isabel?”

She pales. “Y-Yes?”

“Earlier, this morning… Why did you think I would hit you?” Katarina’s gaze softens as she asks the question. “I may not be the nicest mistress, but have I ever given you reason to believe I would treat you that way?”

The raven-haired woman looks down at the floor, practically hanging from the broom in her hands as she eventually shakes her head. “…M-My apologies. Please d-do not hold it against me, M-My Lady. I meant n-no offense.”

Katarina’s eyes narrow, and the maid shrinks back. But the duke’s daughter just looks her over, nose wrinkling as she takes her in.

Isabel is young. She may just have an especially youthful appearance, but she definitely looks a year or two younger than Anne – and only a year or two older than her classmates. And yet, she wonders…

“Have you served another house before ours, Isabel?”

The woman doesn’t have to answer: The way her green eyes widen and her body stiffens is answer enough. And, unfortunately, it makes Katarina suspect she knows exactly why the girl is so anxious to be around her.

“I don’t know where you served before, and I won’t ask…” she frowns, crossing her arms “…but I am not your prior master. I am not the kind of scum that will hurt you for failing me.”

She knows nobles like that exist. It is a mockery of the word. Those of higher class have a duty to reward those who serve diligently in their station. Those who do not should be replaced, not abused.

Isabel looks at her with a strange light in her eyes. “M-My Lady?”

Katarina clicks her tongue, looking up at the ceiling as she avoids her gaze. “I will not make you fight for your position. I no longer believe my ultimatum from this morning is appropriate. Anne will be returning in a matter of days, so while I do expect you to try your best until then…” she lets out a sigh as she looks back at the woman “…you do not have anything to fear from me, Miss Dean.”

The woman clutches the broom to her chest, looking at her with an awed expression. It doesn’t make Katarina feel very good about her earlier behavior – Isabel is looking at her so fondly for simply promising to let her keep her job?

“T-Thank you, Lady Claes,” the maid sighs, averting her eyes as she seems to notice the brunette’s displeasure. “I am sorry for being such a m-miserable failure. I-It’s hard for me to do a-anything right.”

Katarina lets out a mirthless laugh. “Take heart, Isabel: You have almost certainly made fewer mistakes than I have.”

The maid turns to her in confusion, but Katarina has heard enough self-pity for the day. She holds up a halting hand. “You should rest. Take the rest of the day off.” She pretends to be very interested in the gold ring wrapped around her other wrist, sparing the woman only a sidelong glance. “I do expect you to be well-rested tomorrow morning?”

The woman gets the hint, nodding quickly. “O-Of course, Lady Claes.” She quickly takes both the broom and her leave as she opens the door, only to pause in the doorframe. “Good night, L-Lady Claes.”

She raises an eyebrow, but shrugs it off. “Good night, Isabel.”

It’s only when the door closes that she slumps over in relief and rubs her forehead. At least Anne was never this high-maintenance.

Chapter Text

“Alright, ‘Jane…’” Renee actually pauses to make air-quotes with her fingers “…let’s try that again!” She kicks up a cloud of dust as she lunges at Anne with a crooked grin.

Anne’s jaw clenches as her brown eyes go wide, heart beating in her ears as the thief’s swift uppercut grazes her bangs. She scrambles to the side, barely avoiding another jab as her footing slips on the dusty floor of the dilapidated storehouse.

The dust catches the beams of sunlight peeking through the rotten wooden beams, almost obscuring Anne’s brief view of her assailant. Some primal part of her jolts into action; the ill-fitting rags of her so-called ‘training uniform’ billowing out as her legs scurry away from the threat as fast as possible.

“C’mon,” says the utterly insane lunatic she’s hired, voice far too close for comfort. “Can’t run forever!”

Anne begs to differ, adrenaline focusing her mind as she glances over her shoulder.

It’s a mistake. The grinning thief is right behind her.

Anne’s instincts switch tactics, bidding her to fight. She skids to a stop, still trying to get her footing as she curls her fingers into a fist and throws a punch.

The thief’s golden eyes twinkle with amusement as she weaves to the side, rooting herself before balling a fist of her own to punish the maid for her overextension. It plows into Anne’s jaw, sending her stumbling. Head rattling, she fails to see the leg sweeping toward her, knocking her further off-balance as she tips backward. Instinctively, her arms shoot out to her side, and she barely regains her footing as she reels back, putting some distance between her and her assailant.

Golden eyes stare at her coldly. “You’re slow.” A flash of motion, and a fist screws into her gut, knocking the wind out of her as she doubles over in pain. She croaks hoarsely as she stumbles backwards and falls to her knees, clutching her chest as she hacks and coughs.

Renee stands over her, clicking her tongue as she shakes her head. “And now… you’re dead.”

Anne doesn’t dispute the allegation as she gasps for air; chest and face burning with pain. She closes her eyes, trying to block it out. The sensation of burning brings back unpleasant memories.

As if reading her mind, the woman crouches down to her, an unimpressed look on her scarred face. “What are those, anyway?” She tugs at Anne’s sleeve, getting a look at her shoulder. “Those… patches?”

Anne’s eyes fly open as she bats the rogue’s hand away, doing her best to muster a glare. It comes off as more of a grimace. “I don’t… pay you… to ask questions.”

The thief shrugs, returning to full stature. “Fair enough.” Golden eyes examine her nonetheless. “Hm… Patches, huh?” She smiles a crooked grin. “Kind of catchy…”

Anne clutches her chest as she takes a shaky step up. “What are you… talking about?”

“Your nickname.” Renee’s grin widens. “I mean, I know ‘Jane’ isn’t your real name. And you’re not some merchant’s maid, either.” The thief reaches down to her waist, gently tapping her bulging coin purse. “You’re far too happy to spend coin.”

Anne grits her teeth. “Don’t… call me that.”

Renee rolls her shoulders. “Will you tell me who you really are?”

She says nothing.

“Patches it is!”

The injured maid grunts in annoyance, rubbing her battered cheek as she rolls her eyes. To think that she is paying for this treatment… “Regardless,” she sighs, “how did I do?”

Renee looks to the side, placing a finger on her chin. “How did you do?” Her messy braid flies out as she whips her head toward the maid, holding up her fingers as lists off her failings. “You’re slow, you’re weak, you have terrible coordination, and even holdin’ back I am absolutely wipin’ the floor with ya.”

Anne groans, the weight of her battered body suddenly feeling all the heavier.

“Aye, you’re pretty hopeless.” Renee places her hands on her hips. “I mean, you’re real high nobility ain’t ya? Or at least work for ‘em.” She points to Anne’s palm. “Not a lot of wear on those hands! Which is really sayin’ somethin’ considerin’ the state of the rest of your body.”

Anne’s frown deepens. “Do you… have to keep coming back to that?”

The thief shrugs. “Just sayin’. You’ve got a pretty good build and a fair amount of muscle, but you’re still basically a twig.”

Anne looks her over, lips pursing into a thin line. “And you aren’t?” The thief’s build is far leaner than her own: Much thinner than is healthy, to be quite frank.

Renee takes no offense, though. “Aye, but I fight like it.” She drops into a stance, stepping forward with one leg as she flexes her ankles. “Light on the ground. Like I’m floatin’.” She slips to each side, glancing at her ‘student’ after demonstrating each movement. “Then I pull back my arms – see how they’re here at my sides – and…”

In a split second, she roots herself to the ground and jabs at the air in quick succession. Then, airy as ever, she hops back and continues bouncing on her heels. With an exaggerated wave of her hand, she turns to Anne and points. “Give it a shot, Patches.”

Anne’s eye twitches at the ‘nickname,’ but she swallows her annoyance. With a grunt of exertion, she hops to her feet and flings her arms at the air in front of her, feeling a bit more grateful to be out of her usual outfit as her heels bend and flex.

“Better,” the thief says. “I mean, still awful, but… better.”

Anne grits her teeth. She’s always been proud of her ability to control her emotions, but this woman is certainly testing her limits.

“Now… Again!”

This time, she manages to dodge a third punch before Renee’s elbow slams into her thigh.

Anne had thought that first session would be the worst of it. Surely, the thief would be lenient after such a display?

She had been very wrong.

It goes on like that for days: Sparring sessions where she comes out bruised and aching; Training her form until her arms and legs burn with exhaustion. Anne is no stranger to hard work, but Renee proves a brutal master.

“C’mon, Patches!” Renee sports a manic grin as she wipes the sweat from her forehead. “Is that the best you’ve got?”

Anne circles her, examining the woman’s stance as she keeps a good distance. She remembers her lessons. First, she needs to surprise her: Catch her off-guard and break her balance.

Except Renee launches at her before she can.

Anne recoils in surprise, ducking her head as a fist swings over it. Dropping to a crouch, she shifts her weight onto her left leg before sweeping hard with her right.

“Too slow,” Renee taunts, blocking it with her own leg. Then, with a punch, she sends her reeling back.

For a moment, Anne panics. Then she leans into the fall, reaching out her arms and redirecting her momentum into a somersault. As her hands make contact with the filthy floor, she pushes as hard as she can, taking to the air. She braces herself as she spins, skidding backward as she lands on her feet.

Renee’s wild eyes light up. She looks at her, mouth wide in a demented grin. “Oh? That’s new! Not bad, Patches!”

Anne ignores the ‘nickname,’ taking advantage of the distance to analyze her opponent’s stance. Her brown eyes narrow. Renee will slip up eventually…

“Pickin’ it up quick, eh? Don’t think I’d see that last week! I’m almost jealous.” The criminal circles her slowly, like a tiger ready to pounce. “Never trained with anyone before, but my enemies have always been a bunch of feckin’ hotheads: Super easy to piss off or distract. You, though…”

Anne sees the way her legs tense; the way her wild eyes snap to her as they narrow like a predator eying its prey. In a blink, she’s on top of her, fist reeling toward her head.

Anne twists out of the way… but only barely.

“Oh, almost got ya, didn’t I?” Renee winks, taking a step back and brushing her long braid out of her scarred face. “Still, I’m just about proud! You’re different. The focus you have, the motivation… When I first saw you, I was sure you’d give up. But there’s somethin’ keepin’ you in this...”

In a blink, she’s on top of her again, fist reeling toward her head. Anne raises an arm to parry the strike… only for Renee to pull back, shift stance, and slam a punch into her waist. The maid stumbles back, hunching over and coughing as the wind’s knocked out of her.

The thief drops her hands to her hips, crouching over her with a frown. “That’s a weakness too. You’re not thinkin’ about what’s here and now.”

Anne lets out a hacking cough, clutching her chest as she looks up at the thief and channels every bit of defiance she can muster into a glare.

Renee just laughs. “Oh, but I like you, Patches!”

As a token of her affection, she elbows her in the back.

Anne receives another visit to the floor’s filth.

Anne shivers, closing her eyes as the cold water pours over her head. Despite the hour, any semblance of restfulness is banished as the shock of the freezing liquid runs across her skin.

She tosses the now empty bucket to the side, opening her brown eyes as she reaches for a nearby sponge. Gritting her teeth, she rubs a filthy sponge across her ragged, scarred skin, grunting loudly as the last layer of muck refuses to come off.

With a grunt of frustration, she throws the disgusting thing onto the similarly grimy floor, electing instead to wrap her arms around her legs as she shivers in the waist-high water of the wooden wash tub.

Renee says she thinks too much, but often, Anne fears that she is not thinking at all. She knows she is here to learn to protect Katarina, but for what purpose? To attack a crown prince? To attack Lord Keith? Even if she is successful in defending Katarina, what will become of her then? Will she be locked in a dungeon? Will she flee the country?

Anne knows she will follow her, one way or another. That doesn’t make the prospect any less worrying.

She closes her eyes as she rests her dripping head against her leg, breathing deeply as she shivers once more.

She may be a noble in title, but in truth she has far more in common with the commoners she often works with. Her father never intended her to inherit his estate even when he saw use for her, and he most certainly does not now that she’s defied his arranged marriage. She does not have a power base. She does not have magic. Her savings – now significantly reduced – consist only of what she’s earned during her service to House Claes. She is only a simple maid: A scarred, burnt woman whose only positive traits are her diligence and subservience.

Yet here she is, training to hold her own against nobles and mages.

She sighs, opening weary brown eyes as she shifts in the tub. Still… her charge is not the young woman she’d once been. She’d never known Katarina to compliment so readily, and she’d never before heard her openly admit guilt or fault. Anne knows Katarina too well to ever think her charge had been heartless, but the change in her behavior is nonetheless profound. She seems happier and brighter now than Anne has ever known her to be.

Is her charge’s happiness not something worth protecting? Is her charge’s kindness not something worth fighting for?

Her eyes narrow. That is what she needs to focus on. She needs to be able to protect Katarina.

And to protect her, she must be prepared for anything.

She reaches out of the wash tub, grabbing the filthy sponge as she takes a deep breath and begins to scrub once more.

 “Again!”

Anne’s eyes narrow as she sights her quarry. She launches forward, sending a fist screwing into the rogue’s waist.

Renee gasps as she’s thrown off-balance, but her own eyes narrow as she locks her hands around Anne’s arm and falls backward, pulling Anne forward with her own weight.

Anne’s feet lift off the ground as she lets out an involuntary yell, the world spinning as the thief throws her over her head.

Anne briefly recalls the spinning of her ballroom dance lessons as the world twists around her, and an idea crosses her head. She stiffens at the peak of the arc and grips the thief’s calloused hand as she throws her weight to the side.

The thief stumbles, her own grip loosening just enough to let Anne twirl like the dancer she’d once trained to be. When she lands on her feet, Renee’s golden eyes go wide.

She remembers the dirt and muck caking her as she lets out a primal snarl at the woman, suddenly feeling so very unlike that noble girl her father had wanted. Yet her feet move with the rhythm of her heartbeat as the criminal struggles to break free of the reversed hold; Anne’s movements pulling her into a tango of attacks.

That’s when the lunatic lunges at her with an animal grin, reaching her head forward as she bites her arm. It’s not very hard – her teeth don’t even break the skin – but the shock alone is enough to make her lose her grip.

Renee wastes no time in capitalizing on Anne’s mistake, crouching to jab at her chest and stomach as Anne swipes at the air where she’d just been. She swivels down into a low kick, sending Anne stumbling backward.

Anne struggles to keep her balance long enough to see the woman reach to her pocket and toss an object at her. She catches it… but the weight sends her crashing to the floor. She sits there for a moment, breathing heavily as sweat runs down her forehead. Then, she closes her eyes and lets out a groan of frustration.

“Oh, relax,” sighs Renee, sounding similarly out of breath. “No need… to be a big baby… about it.”

When she opens her eyes once more, her blurry vision quickly resolves to the form of Renee standing above her, the woman’s scarred face sporting an uncharacteristic grin as she breathes heavily. “Look at your hands.”

Anne blinks in confusion before turning her gaze to the object she’d caught. She raises it to her face with a quizzical expression. It’s a stone symbol of some kind; so crudely carved from its original pebble that she can’t even tell what it’s meant to be. She turns back to the thief with the same baffled look.

Renee snorts, rolling her eyes as she steps across the dusty floor. “It’s a luck charm, Patches.” She smiles, revealing her crooked teeth. “Think of it as a partin’ gift.”

Anne has had far too much exposure to actual magic to believe that the piece of crudely-carved rock in her hands has any power to change fate, but she nods anyway before slipping it into a pouch at her side. Then, she frowns, looking at the dirty floor of the dilapidated storehouse. “I wasn’t able to beat you.”

Renee shakes her head, crouching down as she offers Anne her hand. “Aye. But you came closer than anyone else. And it only took ya a few weeks!”

Anne sighs as she takes Renee’s hand, grunting as she’s helped to her feet. Her body still hurts… but nowhere near as much as it used to.

“So, goin’ back to your noble world, aye?” Renee snorts, withdrawing her hand as she wipes the sweat from her brow. “Or do ya have somethin’ more dangerous in mind?”

Anne bites her lip. After a moment of consideration, she shakes her head. “I do not know. I hope I never have to use what I’ve learned here.” She means it, too. She doesn’t want to dwell any longer on the fears that drove her here. Or what she worries she sees in Lord Keith…

“So, that’s why you looked for a master criminal to give all your gold to instead of learning from some hoity-toity noble tutor?” Renee snorts, crossing her arms as her stance shifts askew. “Sorry, Patches, but I don’t buy it.”

Anne glares at her. “It’s the truth.”

The woman’s crooked smile falls. “Aye? Well, looks like you could use that luck charm, then.” She drops a hand to her hip. “Not familiar with the current noble shite, but if you’re desperate enough to come here… sounds like you need it more than me.” She shrugs, and then offers her hand, cracking a small smile once more. “Good luck, Patches.”

Anne nods, reaching out her own hand and shaking it. “Same to you, Renee.”

Chapter Text

There’s the sound of a door opening and closing. Katarina sighs, eyes closed as she relaxes in front of the vanity in her dorm room. “Isabel, is that you?”

“I’m afraid not, My Lady.”

Katarina’s eyes fly open as a smile parts her lips. “Anne!” She jumps up from her chair in front the vanity and runs over to embrace the woman. The maid lets out a sharp breath of air as Katarina squeezes her, and the brunette backs off with a quick apology. “Ah, sorry! I’m just so happy to see you!”

Anne returns the expression. “It is good to see you too, Lady Katarina.” Then, her expression falls. “Did you say Isabel?”

Almost on cue, the dark-haired woman steps through the door, holding a tea cup in one arm and a kettle in the other. “Lady Katarina, I brought you—” Her eyes widen as she sees Anne, and she stiffens mid-stride. “L-Lady Anne!” The porcelain shakes in her grip, but she does not drop or spill them.

Anne’s brown eyes shift to Isabel, then back to Katarina, then back to Isabel once more. “Joana sent you to substitute for me?”

To Anne’s surprise, her charge speaks up on the maid’s behalf. “Do not be so harsh on her, Anne.” She offers the black-haired woman a gentle smile. “I have been pleasantly surprised with her performance this last week.”

The petite woman’s cheeks redden as she respectfully dips her head. “T-Thank you, Lady Katarina.”

Then, with a more devious grin, she turns back to Anne, leaning in conspiratorially. “She also makes a very interesting blend of tea.”

“Really,” Anne replies flatly.

The young woman nods quickly as she moves to Katarina’s side and places a cup on a saucer sitting at the edge of the vanity. Her lips purse and eyes narrow as she steadies at the white ceramic, steadying herself as she concentrates intently on pouring the kettle.

“Oh yes,” Katarina continues. “It’s a very…” she waves her hand in the air “…gentle flavor?” She shrugs. “I don’t quite know how else to describe it.”

The black-haired woman lets out a small sigh of relief as she finishes filling the teacup, nodding intently as she returns to full height. “A-An old friend taught it to me. I thought Lady K-Katarina might like it.”

Anne’s brown eyes stare back. “Well… It is unfortunate that you will be returning to Claes Manor, then.” They narrow. “Especially given that your services are no longer required as My Lady’s personal maid.”

The black-haired girl clutches her braid with her one free hand as she shrinks back. “I-I see…”

Katarina’s eyes widen as she holds the teacup just inches from her mouth. She holds up a gloved finger. “Oh! I almost forgot!”

Both maids turn to her in surprise.

“Joana says that there’s a work shortage back at the Manor right now, so she sent me a letter asking me if I’d be okay with Isabel staying a bit longer. I wouldn’t have even considered it before, but with her recent performance…”

Anne closes her eyes, knowing exactly where this conversation is heading. “My Lady…”

“…I thought it might make sense to have her act as your assistant!”

“That is not necessary, My Lady.”

Katarina just shakes her head, making a dismissive gesture as she takes a sip of Isabel’s tea. “Oh, I won’t hear it, Anne! If there’s one thing your vacation made me realize, it’s that I ask too much of you already.”

Anne nods her head, opening her eyes with a small sigh. “…Very well, Lady Katarina.”

“Is that alright with you as well, Isabel?” Katarina asks.

The woman’s green eyes go wide before she responds with a gentle smile. “…Yes. I think I would like that, Lady Katarina.”

The young noble closes her eyes and nods her head in triumph. “Good!” She places the teacup back on the vanity’s surface, looking into the mirror. “Now, both of you help me get finished up, please: I want to look proper at today’s council session.”

Both maids quickly comply, with Isabel nodding her head before running off out of the room to fetch something or other. Anne grabs a comb and begins to run it through her charge’s long hair, though a question bubbles at her lips the longer she thinks about it.

“A council meeting, My Lady?” She tilts her head, looking at her charge through the mirror’s reflection. “It is the weekend, is it not?”

Katarina’s chipper smile fades as her eyes open. “Well, yes… but it is a special session. We need to figure out how to replace Keith’s empty seat.”

Anne’s arm jerks forward, snagging a tangle as her charge lets out a small yelp. Her brown eyes go wide. “Apologies, My Lady. I am afraid I did not quite hear—”

Katarina holds up her gloved hand, silencing her as she shakes her head. “No, no. It’s quite alright, Anne. I forgot you wouldn’t know about his latest episode.”

The maid stares long and hard at her through the mirror, her expression unreadable. “Latest?”

Katarina nods, her expression sinking into a frown. “Aside from his surprise resignation, it was about how these things usually go: He denounced me, said his usual spiel about how horrible I am, and left in a huff.” Her blue eyes go icy. “Although, this time he actually made Maria cry, so I guess he surprised me in one respect.”

Anne stares at the mirror, feeling a chill run down her spine as she processes her charge’s words. For a moment, she’s once again sitting in the cold water of that tub, hoping desperately that her fears are just fears and that she has nothing to worry about.

Katarina looks over her shoulder, eyes softening. “Are you alright, Anne? You’re shaking…”

The maid closes her eyes, steadying herself as she remembers where she’s standing and regains her composure. “I’m fine, My Lady.” She opens them once more, reaching out with the comb. “Let me finish getting your hair ready for the council meeting.”

And after that… perhaps Anne needs to hold a meeting of her own.

Katarina stares vacantly at the empty chair across from her as she places her arm on the council table and leans her head on it. It’s not exactly the most dignified position for a lady to take… but she’s quickly losing patience for this session.

“The Charter says nothing about filling a vacancy, President.” Gerald smiles. “Why insist on the matter? We can function perfectly well with Councilman Keith absent.”

Nicol shakes his head. “I think he has a point, Prince Gerald. We’re not that far into the year. We should find a method to pick a replacement.”

“No, I think Prince Gerald is right,” Sophia says, to the minor shock of all those sitting around her. The white-haired girl hesitates only slightly as all eyes turn to her. “We don’t need someone here who’s just going to cause more problems.”

Nicol arches his brow at that, but says nothing as Alan leans over the table to speak. “I don’t know,” he sighs. “It would be Mary next, wouldn’t it?” He glances at Katarina, his blue eyes softening. “She is my fiancée… but she doesn’t get along well with Katarina.”

Katarina raises a brow at that, shaking her head as she lifts it from the table. “Is that the issue? You’re worried about how Lady Hunt will react to me?”

Maria’s eyes are downcast. “I think I can understand why. I… don’t think I’d want to go through this again with someone else.”

“That’s why I’m proposing we just leave the seat unfilled,” Gerald adds. “Everyone currently in this room can at least be productive with each other.”

Lord Sirius flashes a weak smile. “Prince Gerald, I understand your concern, but I don’t think it’s justifiable to avoid extending an invitation to Lady Hunt just because she may have trouble getting along with another council member.”

“I… actually agree?” All eyes turn to Katarina as she makes the statement. The brunette flushes slightly, but continues without pausing. “I know Lady Hunt and I have a bit of a troubled past… but I think she’s fully qualified for the position. Why wouldn’t we invite her?”

Prince Gerald looks at her with a confused smile. “You… actually want to go ahead with this?”

Katarina muses on it for a moment before shrugging her shoulders. “I do not know much about Lady Hunt, but I know she is a woman of high status and principles. I fully believe she will be capable of upholding her duties on this council if asked to.”

She leaves out that the lady had actually been a councilwoman in the last timeline – and had ironically been one of the few to never bother her then.

“Lady Katarina,” Alan sighs, not looking at her, “the issue isn’t that she’d be incapable, it’s that she’d be hostile.”

“Then let me remind you that I am not some delicate flower to protect.” Katarina purses her lips as she turns to Sirius. “President? I call for a vote.”

“Anne?” Lord Keith eyes her warily as he pokes his head out from his dorm. After seeing no one else in the hall, he sighs, stepping fully through the doorway. His hands slide to his hips as he looks down at her. “What does Katarina want now?”

She’s seen him like this before, back in Claes Manor: Gaunt and unkempt whenever he stepped out of his room. But he’d taken pains to improve his appearance at the academy. She’d noticed it, whenever they crossed paths. Her charge had accused him of wanting to toy with the hearts of girls… but, as much as Anne loves her, she knows better than to blindly trust Katarina’s assessment of her brother’s behavior.

“How are you, Lord Claes?”

The sandy blond tilts his head in surprise. “…Are you asking?”

Anne silently swallows her anxiety as she nods her head. “Yes. I am not here on Lady Katarina’s request.”

Lord Keith narrows his eyes skeptically. “Fine? Why do you care?”

She averts her eyes, crossing her hands before her apron as she remains silent. What can she say? That she’s worried about him? That she fears what he might do? That she regrets not doing more for him when she had the chance? It all seems just as likely to set him off.

After a moment of silence, Keith speaks once more in a softer tone. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that, Anne.”

She looks back up at him, seeing his expression has softened considerably. She struggles to find the right thing to say. “I heard what happened in the council chamber.”

He snorts, offering her a bitter smile as he crosses his arms. “Which time?”

She tries to hide her shock: So there had been others. She quickly recovers her composure. “This last session. The one My Lady states you resigned in.”

“Well, for once she’s telling the truth, then.” His eyes darken as he looks at the doorframe, lips pursing into a frown. “There’s no point in staying there now. Katarina has turned them all into her puppets. I have no idea how she even got in to begin with.” He shakes his head, letting out a sad chuckle. “I studied so hard… it was the one place I thought I could be free of her… and she’s made it her fiefdom.”

Anne admittedly does find it hard to understand – but she’s already seen Katarina pull several impossible, uncharacteristic feats in these past months. It is part of the reason she so readily believes her claim of living these events a second time. “I know she has been acting different, Keith, but—”

“It’s maddening,” Lord Keith continues, turning to her with a grim expression. “Nothing about it makes sense! Katarina is many things, but since when has she been sharp?!”

Anne averts her eyes. She takes a small breath to steady herself. “She is changing, Lord Claes. Have you considered she may be changing in other ways as well?”

He chuckles. “Oh, yes. She’s far more cunning now. It really is quite irritating how excellent she’s become at putting on these performances to woo those she considers useful.”

Anne’s heart sinks. This is not the response she’d wanted to hear. “Have you considered that her behavior may be genuine?”

“You were there when I first arrived at Claes Manor, Anne. You saw how she reacted when I tried to reach out to her.” His voice takes on a darker tone. “Not that you did much to stop it…”

She snaps back to face him, her brown eyes wide. “It was not my place.” The words come to her automatically. She’s not sure whether they’re for his benefit or hers.

His frown deepens as he looks at her with crossed arms. “Regardless… No. I know it’s not genuine.” His eyes narrow. “Did you come here to try and convince me otherwise?”

“I came here because I am worried about you, Keith.” She tries to keep her voice level; keep the anxiety out of her tone.

Keith stares at her a while, scrutinizing her. Then, he huffs, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing something in his fist. “Here.”

Anne blinks at the sudden change in subject, but reaches out to take it.

It’s a handkerchief: One embroidered with the label ‘Maria Campbell.’

Anne looks up in confusion, but Lord Keith makes a dismissive gesture. “If you want to help me, then tell Katarina she may return this to its owner. Or throw it away. I really don’t care.” He spins on his heel, retreating into his room. “I don’t need it anymore.”

The door shuts behind him, followed by the soft click of its lock.

Anne frowns as she looks down at the fabric in her hand. She doesn’t quite understand the significance of the handkerchief… but she has a sinking suspicion it’s not good.

In the outside of the academy, nestled away in a small courtyard, Mary crouches down in her garden as she tends to her petunias. She reaches down into the dirt, pruning the greenery with gloved hands. This one needs more attention in the coming days: Its petals are sagging slightly compared to its neighbors.

In truth, she’s distracting herself. She doesn’t want to think about the way Lady Claes and Alan looked at each other on the night of the party. She wants to keep her mind from the knowledge that in all likelihood her fiancé is currently advocating against granting her a position on the council.

How has it all gone so wrong? She just wants him to be happy. Why can’t she make him happy? Certainly, she has a tendency to lose her composure around the woman… but can he not understand why? Can he not understand the feelings in her heart that make her want to protect him?

When a droplet lands on the wilting flower petal… it’s not from her water magic.

“Lady Hunt?”

Mary’s eyes widen, and she quickly wipes her arm against her face, barely holding back a sigh as she recognizes the voice. “Lady Claes.” She dusts off her apron as she rises to her feet, feeling a lump in her throat as she steadies herself for yet another encounter with this cruel woman. “Can I help you?”

The brunette seems lost for a moment, as if forgetting why she’s there. Then, shaking her head, she produces an envelope, holding it in front of her as she speaks. “Lady Hunt: You are hereby invited to sit upon the Student Council of the Sorciér Academy of Magic.”

Mary can’t hide the flood of confusion that comes with those words. “Pardon?” She had been invited? They hadn’t kept the seat empty?

The brunette nods, stepping around the topiaries as she moves closer. “Why act so confused? You are the most logical replacement for Keith.”

Mary frowns at that. She knows that the Claes siblings get along about as well as oil and water, but she knows that Lord Claes had resigned rather than spend more time with the girl in front of her. Regardless of her surprise at the outcome of the vote… is that not a warning she should heed? “Why are you doing this?” she asks. “How does this benefit you?”

Lady Claes’ lips purse, and Mary can tell from the way her eyes darken that the girl considers her forwardness an insult. “It is not just me. The entire council voted on your admission. I simply volunteered to deliver the invitation.” However, to Mary’s surprise, her anger fades into weariness, and the girl’s sharp eyes look away. “I know you will not take my word for it, but you are qualified. It’s… something I am familiar with, if you take my meaning.”

Mary really does not – unless this somehow relates to Lady Claes’ delusions of living a ‘second life,’ in which case she really does not care enough about keeping up with the gossip about her insane ramblings to parse it out.

“It may be naïve of me, but I hope we can put our past conflicts behind us.” The lady steadies herself, looking back up at Mary with a weary gaze. “I would really like that, to be frank. It is not something I was able to accomplish with your seat’s previous occupant…”

Mary feels herself soften at her gaze… and then tenses at the realization. Why does she trust a single word coming from this woman’s mouth? How can she fall for this act of false repentance? She knows exactly who Lady Claes is! Not only does the noblewoman’s rotten reputation precede her, but Mary herself has suffered from this woman’s callous advances! And to say nothing about the way she treats her brother…

“Why do you act like you have nothing to do with Lord Claes’ behavior!?” Mary retorts, lips pressing into a frown. In times past, she would care about once again losing her composure in front of the brunette, or at least withdraw her fan to hide the crass expression… but Mary is long past the point of caring what Lady Claes thinks of her. “You ran him off the council!”

The lady across from her looks on with fury, suddenly pressing the envelope against her chest as her lips twist into a snarl. “That is not—!” Yet, at the last moment, she catches herself, letting out a breath of air as her eyes close and her expression relaxes. When she opens her eyes again, they’re a cool, deep blue. “Lady Hunt: How can I convince you that I am not your enemy? What can I do to prove that my intentions are genuine?”

Mary is taken aback by the sudden intensity of the girl’s gaze. Despite their sharp lines, her eyes are very striking. “I…” She swallows dryly, shaking her head. No. She won’t fall for this. She won’t give in! “I do not understand why you care so much to lie to me, Lady Claes. You expect me to believe that you will be upset if you return to the council to tell them I will not accept this invitation?” She glances down at the yellow envelope in Lady Claes’ grip. “I do not know what your game is, but I want no part of it.”

The brunette is silent for a while, examining her with an expression that belies only a hint of the frustration Lady Hunt is sure she is feeling. Finally, she crosses her arms and looks to the side, still holding the envelope in her grasp. “Fine. But let me remind you that I voted for you, Lady Hunt.” She shakes her head. “Maybe it was out of guilt. Maybe I wasn’t thinking. But I voted for you.” She glances to her side, withdrawing the envelope one more time. “You can choose if that was a mistake.”

And with those words, she lets it fall from her fingers, spins on her heel, and walks off. The delicate yellow letter flutters through the air before coming to rest on the stone path of her garden.

Mary feels strangely empty as Lady Claes steps through the doorway of a nearby building and exits her sight. Her eyes snap back to the letter, sitting discarded on one of the stones making up her garden’s paths. Her name is written in elegant script on the front, in what she can only assume is Lady Claes’ handwriting.

She should pick it up.

Her jaw clenches as swats the alien impulse from her thoughts, staring daggers at the letter as though willing it to disappear. No, she should not pick it up.

The yellow material flutters as a slight wind shakes the leaves of the foliage surrounding her. It is going to blow away. She should pick it up before it does.

Mary sighs as she brings a finger to her temple, finding herself rooted in place as she continues to glare at the offending piece of paper. Good. Let it blow away. She does not need false kindness.

Is it false kindness? Lady Claes had not been very kind, but she had been quite diplomatic. As a noble lady – and a prince’s fiancée herself – shouldn’t she at least consider the offer?

She closes her eyes. Gods above, why does Lady Claes get under her skin like this? She can deal with any number of rude, arrogant nobles without ever losing her temper, but this one girl gets her more exasperated than the rest of them combined!

When she next opens her eyes, the envelope is in her hand.

She glares at the accursed thing. She can tear it. Or crush it. Or try out one of the more destructive spells she’s learned.

She sighs as she slips it into a pouch for later, brushing off her gloved hands as she crouches back down and resumes her gardening.

Maybe she will save it for later.

Just for a look.

Chapter Text

At the end of first period, when Maria meets up with Lady Katarina in the hallway outside her lecture hall, the noble pulls her to the side, withdrawing an object from a bag and presenting it to her. “Did you know that Keith had this?” Katarina asks.

Maria’s smile shatters as she sees the handkerchief in Lady Katarina’s hand. She looks down at it, nodding slowly. The memories it conjures are bittersweet. She’d almost forgotten how lonely she’d felt those first few weeks at the academy; to be so grateful to have someone take a positive interest in her, no matter his motive…

“He… gave this to you, Lady Katarina?” Maria asks, looking back up at Lady Katarina.

“He gave it to Anne,” the noble replies, frown deepening as she looks down at the small slip of fabric. “He told her that he didn’t want it anymore.” She pauses, extending her hand to Maria. “Do you?”

Maria nods hesitantly; lifting the handkerchief from Katarina’s gloved hand as she stares at her own embroidered name. Mom had made this for her a long time ago. She’d told her that it would be something she’d need when she grew up and became a lady.

That was before her light magic, of course, and… before Dad left them…

The noblewoman must notice her distress, as she moves her now-empty hand to her shoulder, gently rubbing it as she moves to comfort her. “I must admit… I am surprised at the way he’s been treating you.” Her voice softens. “It is much… harsher than I would have expected.”

It does hurt. They hadn’t known each other well, but there’d been something between them. Of course, there was the flirting – the playboy persona that she’d heard so much about… but she thought she’d seen something more familiar underneath it all. A desire – no, hunger – for attention and affection that Maria understands all too well. Even with his sister swooping into her life and snatching away her heart… Maria would have liked to remain his friend.

She knows how much it hurts to be alone. She can’t understand why he prefers to stay that way…

Maria rubs the soft fabric between her fingers, sighing before looking and offering Lady Katarina a weak smile. “I guess it just wasn’t meant to be.”

Katarina eyes her skeptically. “…If you say so, Maria.”

Despite Maria’s words, Katarina can’t shake the thought of her brother as she continues with her classes. It constantly nags at the back of her mind, addling her thoughts as she struggles to keep her quill writing her professor’s words.

She does not understand why thinking of Keith bothers her so much now. Certainly, she recognizes him as a threat… but is that why his unhappy frown lingers in her mind? Why does she feel like there was something wrong in hearing the despair in his voice during that council meeting?

This feeling of success is unfamiliar to her. She had thought it would be more satisfying than it is. He is gone now, after all: Completely defanged and unable to threaten her position of power.

Why does she pity him?

She grits her teeth as her quill presses harder into her notebook’s paper, writing thick black lines as she scrawls words onto its page. It is unfair that the world will not simply let her enjoy her success. This is her triumph! He has failed! She is victorious! Why can’t she just be happy about it?

The quill breaks through the paper’s surface, and her next stroke instead creates a loud rip.

Several students glance to her; the professor momentarily pausing as his worn face turns to her. “Is there a problem, Lady Claes?”

She looks down at her work, seeing the torn paper covered in sprawling black ink. Her words are barely legible, even without the gash running through the center. She sighs, leaning onto the desk as she nurses her forehead. “No, Professor.”

The gray-haired man nods, and the class continues on.

Katarina steps out onto the large clearing surrounding the main building of the academy. Even at this relatively early hour, the grounds are full of students practicing their magic. The practical exam is approaching after all, and while it is still a ways off… fortune favors the prepared.

She is not surprised, then, when she finds exactly who she’s looking for in her usual light pink dress.

But this blonde is no commoner.

“Sienna!” She quickly makes her way over to the noblewoman.

“Good morning, Lady Katarina,” Sienna replies once she’s closer, her gold eyes only briefly leaving the pages of her spellbook as she offers her a small smile. “If you want to study, I’m afraid I’m indisposed at the moment…”

She thrusts her palm forward as it erupts in miraculous light, lips pursing as the ensuing breeze barely stirs a nearby leaf. The glow disappears as she reaches back to the spellbook, thumbing to another page and squinting at its contents.

Katarina momentarily forgets her purpose for being here as she examines her friend’s form. “What are you practicing?”

“This book details a mana amplification technique that’s more efficient than the one I’m using.” Her brow furrows as she flips yet another page. “I’m training to incorporate it into my regular casting flow.”

Katarina blinks. “Ah. I see.” She really does not… but honestly, this is a subject that Sienna can probably outmatch even Gerald and Maria on. “I hope you do not mind, but I've come to ask a bit of a personal question.”

Sienna cocks an eyebrow, but her gaze remains on the tome’s pages. “What is it?”

Katarina steadies herself. “Would you happen to have any idea how I can stop Keith from plotting against me?”

Sienna tears her eyes away from the spellbook in her hand, looking over her shoulder as she shares Katarina a thoughtful look. “Lady Katarina… You’ve never told me why your relationship with Lord Claes is so poor to begin with.” Her lips purse as she glances away. “I know that he is adopted, but…”

Katarina bites her lip, averting her eyes from the flaxen blonde. “It is a personal matter. I would rather not discuss it.” She trusts Sienna to keep a secret, but the truth of Keith’s parentage is not information to be shared lightly, even with her most loyal lieutenant.

Sienna nods, glancing back to her spellbook before throwing forward a now-glowing palm and summoning forth a light gust. She frowns as the energy fades, thumbing through the spellbook as she makes a thoughtful hum. “Without knowing more about your situation, I don’t think I can say, Lady Katarina.”

She sighs again, knowing that she is getting dangerously close to revealing House Claes’ darkest secret. Still… “When I was at your house, you said you were raised by a different mother than the one who birthed you. Is that right?”

Her gold eyes widen as she freezes in place. After a moment, she turns her head to the brunette, nodding. “Yes. That is true, Lady Katarina.” She seems surprised that she’s remembered.

“Well… What was that like?”

Sienna grimaces, letting the spellbook fall closed as she tucks it under her shoulder. She crosses her arms. “Is this really necessary, Lady Katarina?”

Katarina looks back at her. “Please, Sienna. Can you tell me?”

She sighs, shaking her head as she closes her eyes. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at, Lady Claes…” her voice grows quiet “…but I will say that it was hard.”

“Because the current Baroness Nelson was cold to you,” Katarina states.

Sienna opens her eyes, nose crinkling in confusion as she shakes her head. “What? No. Mother – I mean… Baroness Nelson – has always been kind and loving to me.” Her gaze grows distant. “She is the only mother I have ever known.”

Now, Katarina is confused. “But she didn’t give birth to you?”

Sienna shakes her head again. “No. My birth mother died after giving birth to me.” She pauses, pain suddenly clear on her features as she looks at the grass beneath her feet. “I never met her.”

Suddenly, Katarina realizes that she’s walked into territory she is ill-equipped to traverse. She holds up her hands. “I’m sorry, Sienna. I had no idea…”

Sienna looks up at her. “It is alright, Lady Katarina. I have had plenty of time to come to terms with it.” The pale blonde looks across the field, watching for a moment the other students practicing their magic in the wide, green spaces of the academy grounds. “It is thanks to her that I am able to stand here with you at all.”

Katarina lays a hand on her shoulder. “I am sorry for asking you about something so personal, Sienna. I just…” she shakes her head, voice suddenly small “…I wondered if you might understand how Keith feels.”

Sienna looks back at her, glancing at the gloved hand resting on the shoulder of her pink dress before giving Katarina a single nod. “My Mother – the one who raised me – never saw me as anything less than her daughter, Lady Katarina.” Her gaze sharpens with determination “We may not be blood… but we are family. I am sorry, but I do not understand why Lord Claes would feel differently.”

Katarina can imagine. After all, the family Sienna describes seems utterly alien to the one she knows.

Perhaps that is why something very painful chokes her heart at those words.

When Lady Hunt enters the council chambers, Katarina can hardly muster a polite smile. Far from putting her mind at ease, her conversation with Sienna has only accelerated its deterioration. That bastard still harasses her even as she stares directly at his replacement. It is certainly ironic… but more infuriating.

Lady Hunt makes a face at her, and she realizes a moment too late that she is being addressed.

“—for inviting me to the council.”

Katarina blinks, focusing as she pushes back the maelstrom of distracting thoughts. She smiled awkwardly. “Pardon?”

Lady Hunt suddenly glares at her like she’s spat in her face, but the lady quickly regains her composure. “I was thanking you for inviting me to the council, Lady Claes.” Her voice is suspiciously absent of any gratitude – though it may be because Katarina has now made her repeat herself.

Katarina offers a single nod. “Think nothing of it, Lady Hunt.”

The woman returns the gesture before sitting down in the seat across from her. Lady Katarina averts her eyes after realizing her stare has lingered a moment too long. Blood rushes to her cheeks as she suddenly realizes how distracting the girl’s placement is going to be.

Gods above… to think that in her past life she believed she was the biggest beauty in the academy! What arrogance! Luckily, Katarina manages to regain her composure before anyone sees. The last thing she needs right now is Lady Hunt noticing her envious stare. Because envy is what she just felt.

As Sirius eases the Marquis’ daughter into the council’s usual routine, Katarina tries her best to stay focused on the meeting as those thoughts of family once again invade her mind.

“So… how’d you manage to convince Mary to show up?”

The light of the library chandelier highlights Alan’s features as Katarina lays her books on the table.

“I genuinely have no idea,” the noblewoman admits, lowering herself into the chair at his side. “When I tried to talk to her about it, she fought me the entire time.” She shakes her head. “I really did not think she was going to attend.”

“Hey, I’m surprised too!” Alan chuckles. “When you insisted on giving her the invitation yourself, I think everyone in the room figured it was a lost cause.”

Katarina rolls her eyes before offering a smirk. “Well then: Serves you right for underestimating me.”

Alan chuckles, shaking his head. “It’s more that I expected Mary to get just as stubborn about spiting you.”

The brunette’s smile falls at that. “She was civil to me during the session, at least.” Though not particularly warm. “I still do not understand why she dislikes me so…”

Alan sighs, his own grin morphing into a grimace. “That is indeed a mystery for the ages, Katarina.”

There’s a small moment of tension as those words permeate the air.

“What happened with you two after you left the party last week, anyway?” Katarina frowns. “I didn’t see you the rest of the night.”

Alan sighs, running his hand through his hair. “I really don’t know. I tried to talk to Mary, but she wasn’t having it. I ended up stuck outside her room, trying to convince her to come out.” He shakes his head. “I still don’t know why she was so upset… but I didn’t really feel like celebrating after that fell through.”

Katarina nods her head. “That’s understandable.”

“The weird thing is that I honestly can’t remember the last time we had a fight.” His frown deepens. “Mary’s been at my side since we were little. She’s always been there to listen to me when I have problems.” He sighs. “I don’t know… just makes me feel bad that I can’t seem to help with hers.”

“Well, she is your fiancée,” Katarina points out. “Isn’t it normal that you don’t always get along?” She and Gerald have had more than their fair share of fights, after all – though none quite so dramatic since her resurrection.

Alan begins his statement with a bitter snort. “Yeah, and I’m sure she’s just thrilled to be engaged to a second-rate prince like me.”

Katarina sighs, leaning closer to him on the table as she shakes her head. “Come on, don’t say that about yourself.” Then, her lips curl into a cat-like grin as she shakes his shoulder. “You are at least better than Prince Geoffrey.”

That gets him to laugh – then shiver. “Point taken.” He turns to her, arching a brow. “You’ve met him?”

“Only once.” And one time too many, as far as she is concerned.

“Oh, yeah! Back during Gerald’s birthday party!” He offers her a sympathetic look. “My condolences.”

“Honestly, Gerald was the one who really suffered.” Her voice takes on a slightly bitter tone. “Prince Geoffrey pretty much just ignored me.”

“Trust me, Katarina…” he reaches over to ruffle her hair “…That’s a good thing.”

She bats his hand away, whining softly as she tries to restore her immaculately combed bangs. “Still… do you really think Lady Hunt resents your engagement?” That thought doesn’t sit right with her, for some reason.

“Maybe? I don’t know…” Alan shrugs. His eyes glance down to the book on the table as his frown deepens. “I always feel like she’s wearing a mask around me, you know? I don’t know where I stand with her at all.” After a moment, he turns to her with a smile. “Not like you, Katarina. I always know where I stand with you.”

Maybe it’s just the lighting… or the way his blue eyes glimmer… but the smile he gives her is truly enchanting.

She hides her blush with a scoff, turning her head away as she bats her hair. “Yes, I do hold no reservations about calling you an absolute dunce.”

“Says the girl whose notes on magic theory are half as long as mine,” he retorts.

Once her cheeks cool, she turns back to him with a glare, crossing her arms. “If they’re anything like your letters, I think I know why.”

The two make angry expressions at one another… before promptly bursting into laughter.

However, Katarina’s mirth soon fades as she looks back down at her book. “Hey, Alan?” Her lips purse. “Why don’t you and Gerald get along?”

The silver-haired prince groans. “Oh, you know how he is, Katarina.” He runs his hand through his silver locks. “He’s just… good at everything. Everyone always compares me to him.”

Katarina frowns, looking up from her book. “And he doesn’t easily give out praise.”

Alan chuckles, glancing at her with a bitter smile. “Exactly.”

Still, Katarina’s frown remains. “I don’t think he dislikes you, you know. I think he just has trouble relating.”

Alan seems to consider it a moment before shrugging. “Maybe. I have been feeling less angry at him, lately.” His brow furrows. Almost under his breath, he adds, “Though more jealous, for some reason…”

Katarina arches her brow at that, but decides not to press him on what clearly seems to be a sore spot. “I’ve been feeling less angry at Keith as well. I do not understand why, but it bothers me...”

“Maybe it’s because you’re growing up,” Alan offers.

Katarina thinks it over. She had not felt this way the last time she lived this year – if anything, her hatred toward Keith had only increased as time went on. But, she is also older now – in mind, if not body. Maybe that is indeed the reason? Though, for some reason, that answer does not seem to satisfy her.

“In any case,” she sighs, “it is a rather pointless feeling. There is nothing I can do for him now, even if I wanted to.” Her frown deepens as she shakes her head. “He would certainly not accept my assistance, anyway.”

Alan looks at her for a moment, smile falling as he seems to consider something. “You know… I think it would have meant a lot to me if Gerald ever told me that he was proud of me. Or that he thought I was special as well.” He shakes his head. “I mean, I know I’m not exactly in a bad situation. I’m a royal, I got the fourth-best scores on the council exams, and I have an amazing friend like you.”

Katarina’s cheeks warm as he points to her and smiles, though he continues a moment after.

“Frankly, I think your brother is kind of an ass. But maybe he just wants some acknowledgement too?” He shakes his head, smile falling as he runs his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know. I’m probably just projecting my own feelings, here…”

“Maybe…” Katarina replies.

The thought nonetheless lingers in her thoughts the rest of the night.

“You want me to help you bake, Lady Katarina?”

Maria looks at Katarina with wide eyes as she stands across from her in the academy hallway the following morning.

Katarina nods her head. “I know that Keith likes your muffins, so maybe he would like muffins that I made?”

“Keith likes my sweets?” Maria shakes her head. “Lady Katarina, I never made any for the council. I was going to, but then…”

The brunette’s blue eyes widen, and she tugs on her collar as she clears her throat. “J-Just call it a sister’s intuition,” she stammers.

Maria looks up at her skeptically. “I would be more than happy to help you out, Lady Katarina…” she hesitates, dropping her voice as she steps forward “…but are you certain he would even accept them from you? I doubt he would even accept mine at this point.”

Katarina crosses her arms, looking away as uncertainty crosses her face. “I have to try something. This is the only thing I can think of.”

Maria stares for a moment before a bright smile crosses her face. “Well… it makes me happy to see you trying to reconnect with your brother.” She closes her eyes, tilting her head as her grin widens. “I’ll do my best to help you out!”

Katarina returns the grin, though she holds up a gloved finger. “By the way, I’ve asked another one of my friends to help out. Is that okay, Maria?”

Her smile does not lessen even slightly. “Of course, Lady Katarina! Any friend of yours is a friend of mine!”

A frigid atmosphere descends across the kitchen as the two women stare at each other.

“U-Um, L-Lady Katarina…” a bead of sweat runs down Maria’s forehead “…when you said I’d be working with one of your other friends… I didn’t realize you meant Lady Nelson.”

Sienna returns a frigid glare, her flaxen hair tied back in a short ponytail as she crosses her arms over her white kitchen apron. “Likewise, Lady Katarina… I did not think you meant that I would be working with Miss Campbell.”

It’s very clear that neither one of them is comfortable with the situation. Katarina thought that things might be different now that they were both working to bring down Lady Flores… but perhaps she has been naïve.

She bats a lock of her hair – the bulk of it now tied back in a long ponytail, courtesy of Anne and Isabel. “If you two cannot get along… I suppose it cannot be helped.” She crosses her arms over her apron, glancing away. “I just thought we were all on the same side, now.”

Their expressions soften as they glance at each other, then turn back to Katarina.

Sienna closes her eyes, rubbing her forehead before crossing her arms and tilting her nose high. “I suppose if it’s for you, Lady Katarina…” she pauses, opening a single gold eye to glare at Maria “…then I can hold my tongue.”

The commoner grips her apron anxiously, but she nods. “Yes… I will do my best as well.”

Katarina nods. It’s not quite what she had in mind… but it’s something. “Well then… let’s get started.”

“L-Lady Katarina! You have to crack those, first!” Maria rushes to her side, face pale as she glances down at the eggs knocking against her whisk.

Katarina frowns, looking back to the cookbook. Her eyes narrow as she points at the passage she’s reading. “It just says ‘mix in eggs’ here, though.”

Sienna brushes against her other shoulder, making a small gasp as she sees the mixture. “Is that an entire stick of butter?”

“It said ‘add butter!’” Katarina tilts up her nose, crossing her arms. “It’s not my fault these instructions are so unclear!”

Sienna glances at her. “You’ve never cooked before, have you, Lady Katarina?”

She frowns. “No... I’ve had no reason to. That’s why I invited you, Sienna.”

The blonde on her left slides in front of her. “P-Perhaps we can still salvage this, Lady Nelson…”

The blonde on her right does the same, looking towards the commoner as she nods and nurses her forehead. “Perhaps, Miss Campbell… but it’s going to take a miracle.”

Maria reaches over her shoulder and lifts the whisk from Katarina’s hand as the two women look at the mixture with dread.

Katarina realizes a moment too late that the matter has quite literally been taken out of her hands.

When Katarina knocks on Keith’s door, she’s surprised when he opens it quite promptly.

The Claes heir stares at her, dark blue eyes cold as they come to rest on the small tray in her grip. “What’s this?”

“A gift,” Katarina replies softly. “I tried to think of something you’d like, but…” she shakes her head, frowning. “Look, you should be grateful I made anything for you at all!”

Keith crosses his arms and sneers. “You call those malformed lumps a ‘gift?’”

Katarina swings the tray as she steps forward and scowls. The muffins are only prevented from flying by the fact they are stuck to the implement. “You ungrateful little—”

His blue eyes widen ever-so-slightly as the brunette takes a deep breath and steps back.

“Look. I know they’re not fantastic. But I tried my best.” Katarina’s frown deepens. “My friends had to help me out a lot, already… I had to fight just to contribute at all…”

Keith is not impressed. “Does Mother know you’re working in the kitchen now?”

Her scowl deepens. “Must you make our every interaction a battle?”

He frowns. “I told you to stay away from me.”

“Why? So you can continue to sulk in your room, only departing when you need to eat or attend lectures?”

“Why are you pretending to care?” he retorts.

“You’re my brother, Keith, and—”

The tray clatters onto the ground, sending the malformed muffins free to smash into the floor. One or two shatter into a powdery mess on impact. The others rather uncharacteristically bounce before coming to rest at Katarina’s feet.

It’s only when Keith looks down at his own clenched fists that he realizes the identity of the culprit.

When she looks up at him, her lip is quivering. “Why?” she asks, her tone uncharacteristically pained. “I know they weren’t very good, but I made them for you. That’s what I’m supposed to do, right?”

Keith turns away, reminding himself that he is the victim here. “Just leave me alone.”

“Why are you being so cruel?”

He freezes in his room’s doorway, knuckles going white as he grips its frame. “You have no right to lecture me on cruelty.”

There’s a long pause. When Katarina speaks again, her voice is quiet. “I suppose we’ve both been cruel to family.”

When he looks over his shoulder, she’s already started down the hallway.

A burnt muffin rolls beside his feet.

Chapter Text

Sienna rubs her bleary eyes as she steps into the candlelit atrium of the academy library. Its tall glass windows are dark, the sun having yet to rise. A male student lies slumped over on the table nearest to her, snoring softly as his face rests against the pages of some rare, priceless tome. Sienna purses her lips as she moves past him, heading to the main desk as the similarly bleary-eyed librarian offers her a weak smile.

“Lady Nelson,” the old woman says, barely holding back a yawn. “What can I do for you this morning?”

Sienna reaches into the bag at her side, withdrawing a book and presenting it to the woman. “I am here to return this, Mrs. Lydia.”

The librarian adjusts her glasses as she examines the tome, taking it from her hands after nodding confidently. “I see.” She smiles as she tucks it behind the desk. “It’s always nice when a student returns their books on time.” Her smile strains. “I am afraid not many of my patrons are as diligent as you two…”

Sienna blinks, not sure if her lacking sleep has caused her to mishear the librarian. After a moment of consideration, she decides it doesn’t matter. “Do you have the fifth edition copy of Advanced Spellcasting Techniques I asked for?”

The librarian shakes her head, swaying her bob of graying hair. “I apologize, Lady Nelson. I was going to hold it for you once it was returned… but the current lender asked if she could hang onto it until sunrise, and… well, she’s been rather reliable about returning these things, so I didn’t see the harm.” She lifts a hand, pointing over Sienna’s shoulder. “She’s over there, if you’d like to ask her for it now.”

Sienna turns to see the woman pointing at a table lodged in the far back corner of the room with books and papers stacked a head high atop it. Sienna arches a brow before nodding her head and turning towards the fortress of books.

She only stops when she’s close enough to get a look at the girl behind them.

Sitting there is Maria Campbell, dark shadows beneath her eyes as she stares intently at the book unfurled before her while she takes notes. Despite the sheer volume of material encasing her, it’s not at all messy or disorganized. Rather, each aspect of it is laid out in a thoughtful, diligent manner: One that reminds Sienna of her own study sessions.

Sienna’s eyes dart to the book currently unfurled before the light mage. Even from here, she can make out the blue leather at its edges: It’s the one she needs.

Campbell stares intently at it, brow furrowing as she brushes a hand against her bleary eyes and takes neat, precise notes in her notebook.

How many times has Sienna stayed up through long nights doing the exact same thing?

Sienna bites her lip, crossing her arms as she stands across from the light mage’s table. Campbell still hasn’t seen her: She’s too focused on her work.

Perhaps… if that light mage needs that book for her studies right now… then she’ll just wait a little longer.

After all… it can’t be helped, can it?

When Katarina greets Sienna over lunch that day, it doesn’t take the brunette long to realize that her longest friend is in a bit of a mood.

“Are you alright, Sienna?” Katarina reaches across the table and cups Sienna’s chin, examining her face carefully. “You look tired.”

Sienna flushes as she gently pushes her hand away, crossing her arms as she returns a cross frown. “I am fine. You do not always need to be so… grabby, Lady Katarina.”

Katarina just closes her eyes and shrugs. “Well, I can’t have my faithful lieutenant feeling unwell, now can I?”

Sienna just sighs… though when Katarina sneaks a glance, she thinks she sees a small smile cross her lips.

“How’s Mirabelle?”

Sienna rolls her eyes. “She has informed me she still does not wish to talk to you. I gather that she is rather upset about your…” she waves her empty hand “…interrogation.”

Katarina picks at her plate, frowning. “You did tell her that I know she is innocent now, yes?”

“She is aware. It has not lightened her mood.” Sienna’s eyes dart to the side. “She feels… unwanted, I think.”

Katarina groans, stabbing a piece of salmon with her fork. “Fantastic. Yet another enemy.”

Sienna tilts her head. “An enemy? Lady Katarina, I would not go that far.”

Katarina takes a bit of the meat before shaking her head. “I suppose not. But it is hard for me to tell what other relationships I have damaged irreparably.”

Sienna’s caramel eyes widen as she leaves a piece of salad on her plate. “Ah… This is about Lord Claes, is it?” She glances to the side. “I take it he did not enjoy the muffins?”

Katarina snorts, dropping her fork at the plate’s side. “He didn’t even try them.” She crosses her arms. “I know I was… insistent… about my involvement, but you and Maria did help, did you not?” Her expression softens as her arms drop and she leans over the table. “Were they really that bad?”

Sienna can’t quite hide the grimace that crosses her lips as she looks back to Katarina. “They were… probably not very appetizing to look at, no…”

Katarina leans back in her chair, looking back down at her plate as she picks up her fork and resumes her meal. “I am sorry about that, by the way. I did not realize you still hated Maria.”

Sienna is quite for several moments before responding. “I still don’t understand why you like her now.” She picks at the lettuce covering her plate, again avoiding the brunette’s eyes. “The last time you told me about her before summer, you told me you thought she wanted to be attacked.”

Katarina nods. “I did.”

Sienna looks back up at her, nose crinkling in confusion. “And you do not anymore?”

Katarina shakes her head. “No.”

Sienna frowns, realizing her friend is being evasive. “You will not elaborate?”

Katarina sighs, closing her eyes and tilting back her nose as she lifts another piece of salmon just before her lips. “What is there to say? I was wrong.” She slips the slice of meat between her lips, taking several moments to savor the flavor before swallowing it and continuing. “She is not the woman I thought she was.”

When Katarina opens her eyes again, Sienna is looking elsewhere.

After several more long moments of silence, Katarina sighs. “I do not like dwelling on my past life, Sienna,” Katarina admits. “It is… painful to think about.” She shakes her head before lightly dabbing a napkin to her lips. “Much better to focus on the future, I think.”

Sienna nods, still looking away. “I can respect that...”

“Speaking of,” Katarina begins, looking down at her now salmon-free plate, “it appears it is about time for me to meet with Councilman Ascart.”

Sienna looks back at her with a curious expression. “Lord Ascart?” She tilts her head. “I thought you told me he disliked you?”

Katarina grimaces. “I think he does… but he has been grateful enough to invite me to tea.” She shakes her head. “I would rather not create yet another obstacle through my own misplaced pride.”

Sienna purses her lips, again looking down at her plate. “I see.”

The ducal daughter rises from her chair, stretching her body as her extensive jewelry shakes and clinks. “Oh, and Sienna?”

The noblewoman in question suddenly feels Katarina’s gloved finger on her chin, pushing her gaze up to face her. “Keep your head high, okay?”

Sienna flushes. “Lady Katarina, please!”

The ducal daughter laughs to herself as she withdraws her gloved hand.

“Pardon the short notice, Lady Claes,” Lord Ascart states. He sits in a chair across from her, eyes closed and legs crossed as he gently sips from a teacup. “We do not have long before class, so I will keep this brief.” He shifts in his chair, opening his dark gray eyes as she looks at her very intently. “I was wrong about you, Lady Claes.” He dips his head. “I do not ask for your forgiveness… but know that I am sorry for how I treated you when we first met.”

She wants to laugh at him; tell him how his attitude serves him right, or that he is wrong to have underestimated her in the first place.

But… she feels strangely happy to hear that someone wishes to make peace with her. Especially after what has transpired with Keith.

“I know you did not ask me to accept your apology…” Katarina begins, feeling her lips curl as she holds the teacup just before them “…but I think I will, nonetheless.”

The prime minister’s son looks up to Katarina with a faint hint of confusion on his normally-emotionless face. Katarina tries to avoid thinking about how much she enjoys the sight as she instead sips her tea.

It does not take long for Lord Ascart to compose himself, of course, and very quickly, he tugs at his green overcoat and clears his throat. “That is… generous.” He looks up at her, then back at his lap. “To be honest… I do not think you should forgive me, Lady Claes.”

That catches her attention, and she arches a brow as she puts her teacup back on its platter. “Why not?”

 “I should know better than anyone how wrong it is to judge someone based on rumors.” He shakes his head. “I let what I heard of you rule me, to the point that I almost convinced Sophia to ignore your invitation because I could not believe it was sincere.”

Katarina’s lips tug down at the thought, but she nods anyway. “From what Sophia’s told me… that would not have been the first time she was invited to a manor as part of a cruel prank.” She takes another tip of sea. “I understand now that you were rude because you were simply being overprotective of her.”

“Still… I am not often wrong about people, Lady Katarina…” his dark eyes soften as he looks at her “…but I was wrong about you.”

Katarina tries to fight a blush, suddenly understanding exactly why so many of her lady friends had eyes for him.

“Oh, big brother… always so dramatic!”

Both occupants at the table turn toward the source of the voice. “Sophia?!”

The white-haired girl offers them a gentle smile as she closes the door to the common room. “I am glad to see you two getting along, though!”

That is stretching it a bit… but Katarina is finding this conversation surprisingly enjoyable, so it’s only a little bit past the truth.

“You know, Lady Katarina…” a truly devious grin parts Sophia’s lips “…he doesn’t have a fiancée~”

Lord Ascart’s eyes widen ever-so-slightly. “Sister?”

Katarina just nods, taking a sip of her tea as she eyes the beautiful duo. “Of course. Lord Ascart is practically infamous for his bachelor status.” Especially given how much of a heartthrob the man is considered to be.

Sophia’s smile falls at Katarina’s remark, as though the brunette has missed some hidden meaning. Before she has another chance to speak again, Lord Ascart clears his throat.

“That aside—” Lord Ascart’s monotone face glances at his sister before returning back to her “—thank you again, Lady Claes.”

Katarina’s grip tightens on her teacup as she’s suddenly subjected to the full force of the nobleman’s radiant smile.

When Sienna spots a slip of blond hair poking up from a circle of noblewoman on her way to class, she pauses in the hallway junction, pursing her lips as a strange sinking sensation floods her chest.

She is quite confident she knows what she is witnessing right now. Before summer, before Lady Katarina’s change of heart… she might have even counted herself among those noblewomen.

After all, she knows just how contemptible Maria Campbell is. It is infuriating to see the academy bend over backwards to favor her, just because she was born with powerful light magic.

Yet… in the months since Lady Flores’ attack… it has been hard to dredge up the sheer contempt she once felt for the girl. Indeed, when she looks back on the vitriol she spewed toward Miss Campbell in the aftermath of Lady Flores’ attack and then thinks to seeing her study in the library that morning… Sienna is not sure what to think.

Still, she glances down the hallway away from the junction where Campbell is cornered. There is no need for her to intervene. This is not her fight. She can continue to her class. The blonde will never even know she was here.

“Perhaps your time by Lady Claes’ side has caused you to forget your place!” A loud, obnoxious laugh echoes through the halls. “As if someone as low as you deserves to stand by her side!”

Sienna’s fists clench. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath… and spins on her heel.

“Excuse me!” she shouts, striding towards the assorted girls as she tries her best to imitate Lady Katarina’s fearsome glare. “Just what do you all think you’re doing?”

For a moment, the noblewomen turn to her with fear in their eyes… but the emotion soon passes as they recognize who’s confronting them.

“Why, Lady Nelson! What a pleasant surprise!” The one closest to Sienna smiles, her lips curling into a cruel grin as her green eyes sparkle with anticipation. “We were just informing this commoner girl of some business we had with her! Would you care to join us?”

Sienna’s eyes narrow as she comes to a stop some distance away from her, holding her head high as she pushes down her fear. “I actually have some business with Miss Campbell myself.” She makes a shooing motion. “If you all would kindly move along…?”

The green-eyed noblewoman immediately realizes what is happening, and her gaze narrows as her lips pull into a frown. “You are just like Lady Claes, aren’t you? Choosing her over us.” The girl’s gaze darkens. “You have forgotten who your true friends are.”

“I tend to know the names of my friends.” Sienna’s expression softens as she turns to a face in the crowd. “Like you, Lady Bethany. What are you doing here? Did you not tell me that you wished to be a kinder noblewoman than your mother?” She gestures at the wide-eyed light mage trapped at the center of their circle. “Is this how you wish to achieve that goal?”

A short-haired brunette in a light green dress suddenly hangs her head. She mumbles a quiet apology as she first walks, then runs, down the hall in the opposite direction.

The green-eyed noblewoman first looks over her shoulder in shock, then turns back to Sienna in rage. “Hypocrite!” the noble shrieks, pointing a shaking finger. “You would have been here with us, not so long ago!”

Sienna nods. “I would. Yet I am not.”

“Well… perhaps Lady Bethany was weak, but we are not!” She scowls, and the other girls mirror her expression. “You are not Lady Claes. You are not the daughter of a duke. You are merely the daughter of some backwater country barony! We do not have to listen to you!”

So, Sienna walks forward, uncrossing her arms and thrusting them to her sides as she pushes through them the nobles and stands in front of a very startled Miss Campbell. She snatches the commoner’s hand, spinning on her heel and pulling her back through the gap she’s created before the noble girls can catch on.

The green-eyed noble is faster than the rest, however, and Sienna’s journey is quickly halted as the blonde is pulled taut between the two nobles gripping her wrists.

“No,” the green-eyed noble growls. “She stays here.”

“What is wrong with you?” Sienna asks, face curling in confusion. “Are you a child? I understand your anger, but we are ladies. How can you take pride in this behavior?”

The green-eyed girl’s resolve falters for a moment, but she shakes her head. “You of all people should understand, Lady Nelson.”

Sienna’s face reddens, and she tries not to squeeze Miss Campbell’s wrist as her body tenses with anger. “Then maybe one day you will understand why I won’t let it continue.”

She gives the commoner a firm tug, pulling her free of the green-eyed girl’s grip before quickly walking down the hall with her away from the group of nobles. The commoner lags behind, stumbling awkwardly as she gives Sienna several confused glances.

It’s only once the two of them are back in the bustling crowds of the main corridors that Sienna releases her grip.

The commoner nurses her wrist for a moment before turning to Sienna with wide blue eyes. “Thank you…?”

Sienna stiffly nods her head.

Miss Campbell looks down at her arm. “When that woman touched me...” She rubs her wrist before looking back up at Sienna. “Did you feel something... off about her, Lady Nelson?”

But the noblewoman she thought she’d been talking to is already halfway down the hall.

Later that afternoon, Sophia eyes Katarina mischievously as Anne beckons her into the brunette’s dorm room. “So, Lady Katarina… I have a different book idea for you!”

Katarina returns the smile. “Really?” She looks confused as she glances down at the tome open in her lap. “But I thought we were reading—”

The young Ascart snatches the tome out of her hands, slipping it into her book bag. She shakes her head, grinning wildly before dipping her hand into its depths. “Nope! I have a better one for you!”

Katarina crosses her arms, pouting as she looks down at the girl. “But I liked that one!”

The young Ascart produces another tome, jumping in place before shoving it in her arms. “You’ll like this one even more!”

Katarina tilts her head as she lifts the book to her face. “The Devilish Count?” She looks up at Sophia. “I thought you were normally into stories about girls’ friendship, Sophia?”

For some reason, Anne chooses that moment to bang her head into a table.

The noble lady looks over her shoulder in surprise, turning to her maid as her short brown hair drapes across a decorative end table. “Anne? Are you alright?”

Her personal maid shakes her head against the wooden surface, letting out a series of sounds that Katarina can’t quite distinguish between laughter or sobs.

Isabel quickly emerges from some unseen corner, holding up her hands as she steps between Anne and her charge. “She’s j-just feeling a bit unwell, M-My Lady.” She spins on her heel to help her superior to her feet. “D-Don’t mind us…”

Katarina turns back to Sophia with a shrug, the white-haired girl seemingly looking back at her with a smile even wider than the one she had before.

“You can like both,” Sophia replies. “Even I like both!” Her grin turns positively impish as she looks intently at Katarina. “Although, I have a very strong preference.”

Katarina hums, briefly thumbing at the pages of the book before glancing out the window to see the evening sun. Then, turning back to the girl, she smiles. “Alright! Let’s see how far we can get before the sun goes down!”

Sienna looks out the large library windows at the setting sun, pursing her lips as the scene from earlier that day replays again and again in her mind.

Why had she done that? For Miss Campbell, no less? Is it just because the light mage healed her after Noelia’s attack? It is just because she saw her studying? What difference does it make to be kind to her? Why does she care to see that the light mage is diligent?

“Um… Excuse me, Lady Nelson…?”

Sienna looks up from her book, pursing her lips as the commoner stands at the foot of the table with a blue-covered book in her hands. Of course. “What is it?” She hardly hides the irritation in her voice.

The blonde doesn’t flinch, instead taking the book and placing it as Sienna’s side. “Mrs. Lydia said you wanted this.” She glances away, looking guilty. “I apologize… I shouldn’t have kept it past its due date, even for a little while.”

Sienna just nods, averting her eyes as she grabs the book and stows it to her side. “Indeed.”

There’s a moment of silence between them before the commoner speaks again. “Forgive me if this is rude, Lady Nelson… but you’re studying ways to increase your magic power, aren’t you?”

Sienna sighs, closes her eyes, and nods her head. There’s no point lying… even if the commoner is the last person she wants to admit this to.

“I figured as much,” the light mage replies. “It’s something Lady Katarina has asked about as well. I’ve looked into it because of her, but what I’ve found…”

Sienna opens a single golden eye as she leans back into her chair with a frown. “I am no longer so delusional as to think I will ever be able to match someone as powerful as you, Miss Campbell.” She crosses her arms, tilting her nose up. “Still, I want to show everyone who’s ever looked down on me how wrong they were.” Then, she hesitates, her other eye opening as she stares down at the tome. “I… also want to be able to support those I care about.”

Mother, Father, Rufus, Carmela… even Lady Katarina. Even if she can never become a great mage… she wants to have enough power to be able to support them all. She needs enough power to hold her head up high with pride.

Her family is relying on her.

The commoner raises a hand to her chest, fiddling with the maroon ribbon around her collar as her blue eyes glance away. “I am sorry my presence at this academy has caused you distress–”

Sienna clicks her tongue as she holds up her palm. “Do not apologize,” she growls. Then, she looks away. “You do not have anything to apologize for.”

Miss Campbell looks back at her, head tilting in confusion. Then, after a moment, she smiles. “I see… Then maybe I can offer you something else you might be interested in?”

Sienna looks back at the commoner girl in confusion as she dips her head and scurries off to some far corner of the library. A few minutes later, she emerges from behind the bookshelves with a heavy brown book in her arms.

Sienna glances at the cover, lips parting as she stares at the book. “This is a potionmaster’s guide.”

Miss Campbell nods as she resumes her position at the side of the table. “Yes, but I think the author had trouble with magic as well. There were some really interesting techniques in here that I couldn’t understand.” She smiles. “Maybe they’d interest you?”

Sienna arches a brow as she takes the book from Miss Campbell’s hands, flipping open the cover and skimming through the pages. Her eyes widen as the brief, perfunctory potion recipes are interrupted by pages of treatises on mana compression, guides to spell amplification, and self-replicating casting charms. Sienna’s eyes narrow as she stares at each page in disbelief. “This was published as a potions reference?”

The commoner has a surprisingly gentle laugh. “Yes… it’s silly, isn’t it?” She offers Sienna a wide smile. “I thought the same thing when I first opened it.”

Despite herself, Sienna finds her returning the grin… though it quickly fades. She brushes a strand of her golden-brown hair as she looks down to her lap.

“I know you are friends with Lady Katarina…” she places the book down on the table before clenching the pink silk of her dress “…but you should not feel obligated to be kind to me just because we are both close to her.” Her frown deepens. “I have done nothing to deserve it.”

There’s a small pause as Miss Campbell hums thoughtfully. “I think we both know that’s not true, Lady Nelson.” A surprisingly Katarina-like grin curls across the light mage’s lips as Sienna looks up in surprise. “Or was that some other noblewoman who stood up for me?”

The tension between them evaporates as Sienna lets out a small laugh.

She thinks she understands what Lady Katarina meant now.

“Very well…” She smiles. “Thank you, Miss Maria.”

Chapter Text

The longer she serves on the student council, the less Mary understands Katarina Claes.

She’s heard the rumors, of course. Who hasn’t? The ducal daughter who woke up one morning claiming to be a time-traveler… now supposedly a master seductress with both men and women wrapped around her fingers.

Mary had guessed there to be a kernel of truth to the insane stories that reached her ears, but her own experience with Lady Claes had left her baffled at the idea that the lady’s affections could at all be reciprocated. Yet, as she watches the councilors fawn over her… Lady Claes hardly lifts a finger. Instead of the woman throwing herself at suitors, it seems that the suitors are throwing themselves at her.

Behind the lively, jovial conversation that fills the council chambers, there’s an uneasy tension in the air; a shared suspicion that most of the councilors seem to hold, but don’t dare vocalize.

Almost all of them have feelings for Lady Claes.

Even, painfully, her Alan.

It’s not that Lady Claes isn’t fetching. The brunette has been described as a cold, haughty beauty, but that hasn’t quite been Mary’s impression. She smiles much more readily than such a description would suggest, for one, and there’s an undeniable intrigue in seeing those cold, sharp features light up with warmth. While such an ingénue act would usually grate on Mary, the longer she spends with Lady Claes, the more she’s faced with a seemingly impossible conclusion:

Maybe Lady Claes really doesn’t know.

It seems inconceivable at first. After all, Lady Claes has always had a reputation as a proud beauty. Yet despite the gazes of Prince Gerald, Prince Alan, and – to Mary’s minor shock – even Lady Ascart and Miss Campbell… Lady Claes seems almost entirely oblivious to their affection. Even with her own fiancé – Prince Gerald – Lady Claes seems hesitant, as though she does not trust that his affection is genuine.

Even with all their feelings seemingly unreciprocated, it’s hard for Mary to not despair at the implication of it all; to sink deeper and deeper into her seat as the council sessions pass. How can she compete with a seductress so charming, Lady Claes has no idea she even is one? How can she be angry at a woman who does not even understand that she has stolen Alan’s heart?

Lady Claes may not be an exotic beauty, but she is very beautiful: A well-proportioned princess with eyes that shine like jewels and a radiant smile. Mary is not at all like her, with her rust-stained hair and overripe figure. She knows at an intellectual level that she herself is considered beautiful, but how can that be true when Alan’s eyes hardly glance at her? When all the others fawn over Lady Claes’ brown hair and genuine smiles? No matter how hard Mary tries to catch his gaze… his eyes look to Lady Claes, not her.

She is a statue. An elegantly-sculpted art piece to be marveled at from a distance, briefly… but never for long. And never to be loved.

Yet… if she truly loves Alan… If she wishes him to be happy…

There is only one option left, is there not?

“I really am no match for you.”

The voice is so quiet, Katarina almost doesn’t hear it. She looks over her shoulder, finding Lady Hunt standing in the courtyard behind her. The lady offers a warm, dignified smile before closing her eyes. Her copper hair catches the evening sunlight as she dips her head forward. “You really aren’t anything like I imagined, Lady Claes.”

Katarina’s lips part as she turns to face her. Even though Lady Hunt is complimenting her, something feels off. “Thank you, Lady Hunt?” Has she followed her from the council chambers?

The girl opens her eyes, returning to full height as she folds her hands before her yellow dress. “Please… call me Mary.” She raises a hand to her chest, offering a warm smile. “It is the least I can offer, after how I have treated you.”

The smile she wears does not reach her eyes.

Katarina’s eyes narrow. “What is this really about, Lady Hunt?”

Lady Hunt’s composure falters, and her perfect smile strains as she tilts her head. “Lady Claes… Please do not make this harder than it already is.” She takes a deep breath, stiffening as she forces the smile back to her lips. “I was wrong about you, can’t you see?” She closes her eyes, flashing a grin. “I know you’ll be a good companion to my prince.”

Katarina crosses her arms, raising a brow as she scrutinizes her. “Companion?” Her expression softens. “What do you mean? Why do you seem so distraught?”

The marquis’ daughter stands statue-still, the expression of forced happiness stuck on her face. “Distraught? I am simply letting you know that if you decide–“

“Lady Hunt, do you not trust me enough to be honest with your feelings?” Katarina’s frown deepens. “You are clearly upset. I can tell you are forcing a smile.”

She is silent for another few moments. “You are really making this quite difficult, Lady Claes.”

Katarina shakes her head. “Have I made you upset, Lady Hunt?”

Her eyes open, and her lips fall into a frown. She steps forward, straightening her arms. “Lady Claes, please!” She blinks, realizing she’s lost her composure, and snaps back to her perfect form, struggling ever-more to keep up her smile. “I just want you to know that I am… happy for you. No matter what happens… I will not stand in your way.”

Katarina tilts her head. “Lady Hunt, please speak plainly to me.”

“Why do you care?” she says eventually, and her voice wavers as her façade shatters. Tears run down her cheeks as her lips pare into a grimace. “I can’t…” she wipes her orange sleeve against her face, shaking her head. “I can’t stop it from happening, anyway…”

Katarina’s arms fall to her sides as she steps toward the noblewoman, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Stop what from happening?”

Lady Hunt shakes her head, clutching her chest as her eyes wince shut. “It doesn’t matter. I… just thought… I thought saying it would give me closure. Make it feel like it was my choice…”

Why Lady Hunt seems unable to simply spit out the cause of her anguish annoys Katarina… but she feels so much worse at seeing her distress. There is something uncomfortably familiar about the pain in her voice.

“Lady Hunt… if I have upset you in some way, I would greatly like to know.” Katarina feels a lump in her throat as her hand tightens around the girl’s shoulder. “I want to get along with you. I told you as much, didn’t I?”

Lady Hunt chokes back a sob, still shaking her head. “It is not your fault, Lady Claes. I thought it was, but…” Her grimace grows ever-more pained. “Why are you even wasting your time on me, Lady Claes?” She steps away from the lady’s grip, folding her hands across her chest as she clutches her shoulders and looks away. “Please… just go and be with the people you care about. This was a poor decision. I will not try something so foolish again.”

Katarina considers it for a moment. This encounter has been confusing. She’s not sure what it is even supposed to be about. Lady Hunt is congratulating her on her friendship to Alan? Giving Alan to her? It cannot be that: There is not a man alive that will pass up a woman as stunning as Lady Hunt for herself.

Maybe Lady Hunt simply needs a reminder of that.

“Do you remember when we first met, Lady Hunt? At your family’s tea party all those years ago?” Katarina begins, not waiting for her response before continuing. “Frankly, at the time… I hardly noticed you. You seemed boring. Just a shy wallflower girl that I had no interest in whatsoever.”

Lady Hunt’s expression sinks further, clutching her shoulders even more tightly.

“Imagine my shock when I next saw you at the palace with Gerald, holding Alan’s hand. You were chosen to be my future sister-in-law? A future royal? I thought that was funny… until I saw you at Gerald’s birthday gala the next year.”

The girl looks up to her, tilting her head as she watches with tearful eyes. Katarina averts her gaze, crossing her arms as her cheeks start to burn.

“You were stunning. Your etiquette was flawless. Even at that young age, I could tell you were everything a noble lady should be; everything I wanted to be. I was very, very jealous.”

Lady Hunt blinks, rubbing her face with her orange sleeve as the tears dry up. “I remember the faces you made at me…” She smiles, though it quickly fades as she looks up at Katarina. “Why are you telling me this?”

Katarina doesn’t look her in the eye. It is still very hard to admit what comes next. “Because I am still jealous of you, even now.”

Lady Hunt lets out a small gasp, clutching her chest as embarrassment reddens her cheeks. Then, she looks down, shaking her head. “No. Lady Claes… You should not envy me. What I have given up to become what I am… I wonder if it was worth it all.”

“You did it for Alan.” It’s a guess, but Katarina knows the moment she says it that it’s true. “You changed yourself, because you wanted to be worthy to stand at his side.”

Lady Hunt says nothing, but the silence is all the answer Katarina needs.

“I am the same. I wanted to be the perfect wife for Gerald. The epitome of nobility.” Katarina looks at Lady Hunt. “That is why I became so jealous of you: You are much better at it than me.”

Lady Hunt lets out a sharp breath of air; almost a chuckle. “Thanks… I suppose.”

Katarina nods. “We are both princes’ fiancée’s. We understand each other, do we not? We both know what we have discarded on the journey there.”

Lady Hunt nods in turn.

“I don’t know what has caused you so much distress, Lady Hunt, and you do not have to tell me if it makes you uncomfortable, but…” Katarina steps forward, offering her gloved hand “… I’d like to at least soothe your nerves.” She smiles, tilting her head. “Perhaps share a cup of tea?”

Lady Hunt looks up in confusion, but smiles as she takes Katarina’s hand. “I… think I would like that, Lady Claes.”

Lady Claes thanks her maid as the short-haired woman places a tea platter on the table between her mistress and her impromptu guest. Mary takes the teacup, sipping gently.

It’s a strong flavor… but not an unpleasant one.

The ducal daughter’s dormitory is as resplendent as one would expect for a woman of her status; it is practically a small house unto itself. The guest room is patterned with elegant blue wallpaper, and full of extravagant furniture. The chair she sits on, the table Lady Claes sips tea over… all exquisitely-crafted. All very comfortable.

Lady Claes is blessed with everything: Money, beauty, love… Why make such an effort for her?

“So, Lady Hunt…” Lady Claes places her teacup on its platter before leaning back in her chair. “…Are you feeling better now?”

Mary’s cheeks flush as she avoids her azure gaze. “Yes. Thank you, Lady Claes.” In truth, she’s quite grateful that Lady Claes failed to understand her intentions from earlier. What had possessed her to think that ‘giving’ Alan to her would be a good idea? Neither he nor Lady Claes are even aware of their attraction!

The brunette, ignorant to her thoughts, simply claps her hands together, smiling broadly. “Glad to hear it! I find a cup of Anne’s tea calms my nerves as well.”

Mary nods, genuinely feeling much better as she replaces the teacup on its platter and sinks back into her plush seat. She turns to the brunette, offering her a smile. “I very much appreciate your hospitality, Lady Claes.”

The lady nods. “Is there anything else I can get you? My other maid – Isabel – brews a very relaxing blend if Anne’s is not to your taste.”

Mary blinks. Katarina has two personal maids? Well… the Claes can certainly afford it, she supposes. Nonetheless, she shakes her head. “I am quite content with what you have given me.” She looks away again. “Truthfully… I do not deserve this kindness at all, Lady Claes. I have been very foolish in how I have treated you…”

Not just this whole debacle… but in her earlier refusal to believe the woman is exactly what she has proven herself to be:  A woman of principle, unaware that she has even caught Alan’s eye.

Lady Claes waves a white-gloved hand dismissively, the gold bracelet around her arm jingling as she does. “Water under the bridge, Lady Hunt. As I told you…” she glances away as well “…I have not always been very kind to you either.”

They both look back to each other, smiling as a bit of the tension lifts from the air.

“You are right,” Mary replies, lifting the teacup up once more as she takes another sip. “You were right earlier, as well. We are both the fiancées of princes.” She grins. “We are more similar than we are different.”

Lady Claes shakes her arms, clearly giddy at the response. Then, her eyes widen, and a moment later, she’s once again the picture of nobility, gently nodding her head. “Of course, Lady Hunt.” It does not take long for that glee to seep back into her smile, though. “I am very excited to finally get to spend some time with you, you know. Even now, when I realize that maybe I want to be a different kind of noblewoman than I was trying to be…” her eyes dart to the side, cheeks reddening “…It’s hard not to admire someone who works so hard to embody the ideal.”

Mary feels her teacup shake in her grip; heart beating in her ears as she struggles to swallow. “That… is very kind of you, Lady Claes.” She steadies herself with a deep breath. “Forgive me… but I did not think you the type to ordinarily give out compliments.”

Lady Claes scoffs, waving her hand dismissively as she turns back to Mary. “I do not.” A small grin parts her lips. “But you are not ordinary, Lady Hunt.”

Her cheeks burst into an inferno. She places the teacup back on the table, clearing her throat as she averts her gaze. “Thank you… I just…” she sighs, shaking her head as her eyes sink to her lap. “I wish my Alan could see it the same way…”

The lady across from her is silent for a while, and Mary knows she’s said too much. “Lady Hunt… is Alan mistreating you?” There’s a hint of terror in her voice as she asks it, like the idea scares her on some visceral level.

Mary is not sure why: She’s seen the way Prince Gerald looks at her during the council meetings. How can someone as cherished as Lady Claes understand what it’s like to be neglected by the one you love the most?

Still… the anger she expects that question to summon never arrives, and she merely sighs instead. “Mistreat? No,” Mary replies. “Rather… I wonder more and more if Alan really feels the same way for me as I do for him.”

When she gains the courage to look back at Lady Claes, the brunette’s features are wide with shock. “You love him, do you not?”

Mary smiles sadly into her teacup, looking at her despondent expression in the ripples of its surface. “I do.” Even now, as her feelings fray from neglect and envy… she still holds feelings for the first man to tell her that she is special and holds wonderful talent. Those words had given her the strength to endure the cruel mockery of her stepsisters over the ensuing years; granted her the confidence in herself to become a woman worthy of standing at his side.

Or, at least… they had.

“Then…” Lady Claes says, tone unsure, “…will you not fight for him?”

Mary blinks, looking up from her teacup. “What do you mean?”

“If you fear he does not love you, then…” Lady Claes’ expression sharpens “…you should fight for him. Show him you are the woman he needs.”

A strange feeling grips Mary’s chest, even as she resists the urge to laugh. “Lady Claes, it’s not that simple—”

“Isn’t it?” The brunette’s eyes narrow. “I find it hard to believe Alan would not be clay in your capable hands if you merely allowed yourself to mold him.”

A different feeling takes her with those words; one utterly unfamiliar. “L-Lady Claes,” Mary chokes. “Surely, you must be joking?”

“Am I, Lady Hunt?” Her frigid blue eyes glare at her as she crosses her arms. “Do you not think I do not notice how differently you act when you clash with me?” Her soft lips purse into a frown. “Do you think I do not notice how you unleash your passions, instead of hiding them behind a mask?”

For a moment, Mary finds herself at a complete loss for words as her hands grip her dress. Then, she sighs. “That is… an ugly part of me, Lady Claes.” Her eyes again drop to her teacup. “I am not proud that I have shown it so readily to you…”

Lady Claes clicks her tongue. “You will not be doing any favors to Alan if you simply relegate yourself to being a smiling face.” Her tone softens. “You do not need to yell at him like you did to me… but have you even once told him, ‘I love you?’”

Mary’s face contorts in sadness. She has not. She is too afraid to say it, and too afraid to hear his answer. Especially now.

“Men are… strange,” Lady Claes says, clearly understanding Mary’s answer despite her silence. “They expect us to know their feelings without ever telling us.” She goes quiet for a bit. “Have you considered that Alan may not believe he is worthy of your love?”

That, she laughs at. “Oh, Lady Claes, you misunderstand.” Mary looks up at the brunette with a sad smile. “I am the youngest and lowest of my siblings.” Her false smile sinks. “I am the one unworthy of him.”

The answer doesn’t seem to sit right with Lady Claes, who uncrosses her arms as her gaze travels down and up her figure. “Well,” she says eventually, looking at her very intensely, “I respectfully disagree.”

The strange feeling rushes back to Mary as she takes another sip of tea to hide her blush.

“Anyway,” Lady Claes continues, sighing as she leans back in her chair and takes a sip of tea. “I want you to know that I am very grateful you have been trying so hard to get along with me, Lady Hunt.” A genuine smile curls her lips. “I would like to continue getting to know you better. Wouldn’t you agree?”

The feeling intensifies as Mary nods her head.

“Just please consider my advice, okay?” Lady Claes’ expression shifts to one of concern as she takes another sip. “It breaks my heart to see someone as lovely as you unhappy.”

Mary places her teacup back on its platter, feeling oddly light-headed as she smiles. “Thank you, Lady Claes...” she hesitates, then adds “…but please. I meant what I said earlier.” She looks up at the brunette, closing her eyes as she grins. “I would be very happy if you simply called me Mary.”

Chapter Text

As the morning sun pours into the library atrium, Lady Katarina slams her book down on the table. “I want to make Alan and Mary realize their love.”

Sienna looks up from her textbook with a start, face contorting in confusion. “What? Why?”

Katarina’s expression hardens. “Because Mary is a wonderful woman, and I cannot bear to see her feeling as I once did.”

Sienna raises a brow at Katarina’s casual address of Mary, but shakes her head. “Well, from what I can tell from when Alan studies with us…” Sienna glances away, a pained smile parting her lips “…that may be more difficult than you think, Lady Katarina.”

At that moment, Maria rounds the corner, holding another book as she drops down into the seat next to Sienna. “What are we talking about, now?”

Katarina blinks, momentarily distracted by the sight of the two sitting side by side. It’s not the first she’s seen of their new friendship, of course, but… it is something she has yet to adjust to. “You two are studying together?”

They both glance at each other, nodding as they look back to Katarina.

“Yes,” Sienna replies first. “Miss Maria has proven quite insightful in my studies.”

Maria returns the grin. “Lady Sienna, you are far too humble.” She looks back to Katarina. “She has been helping me improve my spellcasting form.”

Sienna closes her eyes and makes a dismissive wave of her hand, even as a small grin remains on her face. “Oh, it’s nothing. Anyone can incorporate a Simon-Lautrec Polythaumic Amplifier into their casting routine if they drill it enough!”

Katarina just blinks. “I see…” She does not. “Anyway,” Katarina continues, looking between the both of them as she lowers her voice. “Like I said, I want to get Alan and Mary together. Do you two have any ideas?”

Maria flushes, looking at Sienna before glancing back to the brunette. She grimaces. “…I think that might be harder than you think, Lady Katarina.”

Sienna opens a single gold eye as her lips pull into a frown. “That is exactly what I told her as well.”

Katarina groans. “But why?”

The girls once again glance between each other before looking back to Katarina.

“Lady Katarina…” Maria begins, “…don’t you think Alan might have feelings for someone else?”

Katarina stiffens in her chair, eyes widening as the terror of that idea seeps in. She clamps it down, closing her eyes as she shakes her head. “No. Alan wouldn’t do that to Mary.” She refuses to accept that the fourth prince would take after that other world’s version of his brother in that respect.

She hears Sienna speak next. “Even if he doesn’t realize he’s doing it, Lady Katarina?”

Katarina scoffs at the idea. “No-one is that dense.”

There is a long, uncomfortable silence at that. Eventually, Katarina opens her eyes to find both light and wind mage staring at her. “What?”

“N-Nothing, Lady Katarina!” Maria assures her, holding up her hands as she forces a smile.

Sienna just glances to the side, grinning sadly at a random bookshelf.

Katarina crosses her arms, pouting. “Well, hilarity aside, this is something I feel rather strongly about.” Her eyes narrow. “I will not abide seeing Lady Hunt in such a state. Will you two help me assist her?”

They both snap back to face her, offering expressions of confidence as they nod their heads.

“Have you tried asking Lady Sophia?” Maria asks. “I know she’s very interested in romance.”

It seems so obvious now that Katarina feels embarrassed that the girl hadn’t been her first stop. “No,” she replies, glancing away as her cheeks flush, “I hadn’t thought of it until now.”

“Lady…” Sienna’s brow furrows “…You mean the cursed child?”

Her gold eyes widen as Katarina glares in response.

“Do not call her that.” Katarina’s tone is level, but clearly displeased.

Sienna glances away. “My apologies… I know she is a friend of yours as well…” She shakes her head, looking back at Katarina with a resolute expression. “It is also a stupid prejudice, and I should know better than to believe in stupid prejudices. You are right to call me out for using that term.”

Katarina nods in agreement, though her features soften when she looks back at the wind mage. “Assuming you can fix your language… I’d quite like to introduce you two.”

Maria smiles, looking at the brunette. “That sounds like a lovely idea, Lady Katarina!” She gasps, blue eyes sparkling. “We could even introduce her to all your friends on the council!”

Sienna seems less than enthused at that prospect, offering a weak smile as she glances to Maria. “I believe just Lady Ascart will do for now…”

Both Maria and Katarina share a laugh.

Sienna grips her arm awkwardly as she stands behind Lady Katarina in the Ascart’s luxurious dorm.

It’s not that she’s unfamiliar with the level of accommodations afforded to Sorciér’s most influential nobles. She has, after all, seen the interior of Lady Katarina’s dorm before, and that is practically a small house. Lady Ascart’s accommodations are more modest in comparison… even as she struggles to believe this elegantly-furnished parlor can in any way be described as modest.

It’s also not that she genuinely believes any of that nonsense about Lady Ascart being cursed. Her gaffe at the library aside, she’s really only picked up the term from hearing some of Lady Katarina’s old followers – her former underlings – use it. Her contrition upon seeing Lady Katarina’s reaction had been genuine – she’s heard it so often, she’s forgotten that it is an insult.

Sienna is hesitant, rather… because she still does not quite know how to handle the idea that Lady Katarina has other friends.

Maria is one thing. In an odd way, the two of them were already well-acquainted: Only the nature of that relationship has changed. The others? Sienna is anxious. What if they do not like her? What if she does not like them? Certainly, she understands that she needn’t be friends with all of Lady Katarina’s other friends… but could such a spat not strain her friendship with the brunette herself? Perhaps even drive her to end it?

She jumps a little as the door to Lady Ascart’s room opens. The white-haired girl steps out with clear excitement on her pale features, but trepidation fills her crimson eyes as she sees Sienna.

“O-Oh.” Her voice is quiet as she glances down to the floor. “H-Hello…”

Sienna has seen Lady Ascart from a distance, but never quite so close. Here… it is very easy to see why Lady Katarina must be so taken with her. The young woman’s porcelain skin and long white hair... Like a doll brought to life, she is a finely-crafted beauty.

It is something she very much shares with her brother, in Sienna’s assessment.

“Sophia, this is my friend, Sienna Nelson.” Lady Katarina points to Sienna, and she does her best to wave and smile despite her own anxiety. “She’s the firstborn daughter of the Nelson Barony, and a very good friend of mine.”

There’s a moment of silence, and Lady Katarina elbows her shoulder to remind her to speak.

Right. She is only talking to the daughter of the prime minister. Definitely no pressure, so she most certainly does not panic when she executes perhaps the worst curtsy she’s ever performed in her life, or try to keep her voice level as she starts her formal introduction. “Hello. I am Lady Sienna Nelson. It is nice to meet you, Lady Ascart.”

The white-haired noble falls into a matching routine – complete even with mirroring the horrible, nervous shaking – and the atmosphere seems to lighten a bit as Lady Katarina guides Sienna into a plush sofa across from the one the petite woman takes a seat in.

“Sophia… I come to you with a matter of grave importance,” Lady Katarina begins.

Lady Ascart lets out a soft gasp as she looks up from the floor, suddenly looking at Lady Katarina with a vibrant intensity. “What is it, Lady Katarina!?”

Lady Katarina clutches her chest, swooning as though an actress in a play. “It is a matter of the heart…” She closes her eyes, tilting her head back. “Of broken love!”

Sienna just stares at her in utter confusion. What is she doing?

Somehow, Lady Ascart seems to take it in stride, gasping once more as she sits on the edge of her seat, brushing her long bangs away as she looks at Lady Katarina seriously. Her eyes narrow. “This sounds dire indeed!” She glances to Sienna, only a moment of hesitation creeping into her demeanor as she looks her over. “Is this your doing, Lady Nelson?”

For a moment, those red eyes seem to glow.

Sienna holds up her hands, shaking her head. “Ah… No. Not me.”

Lady Katarina nods her head, snapping back to her seated position as she holds her nose up high. “My friend speaks the truth!” She pumps a gloved fist. “It is the romance between Alan and Mary I speak of!”

Sienna turns to her friend, finally working up the nerve to ask the obvious question. “Why are you talking like that?”

Lady Katarina opens an eye for a moment as her lips curl into a grin. “Because,” she continues in that overwrought, sing-song voice as she strikes yet another pose, “it is fun!”

Sienna’s jaw falls, and she gapes at Lady Katarina. Then, after another moment of thought, she shrugs. Lady Katarina will do as she pleases. There’s no point belaboring it.

Lady Ascart interjects with a thoughtful hum, her snow-white hair catching the afternoon sunlight as she shifts in her seat and brings a hand to her chin. “Those two are just like the couple in Romance of Autumn Hearts,” she whispers, in the same reverent tone one would use to announce a great insight into the nature of the universe.

“Then tell me, great sage,” Lady Katarina pleads, opening her eyes as she claps her hands together in a pleading hold, “what is their path to happiness?”

Sienna quietly decides that it actually is a bit amusing to watch.

The pale-haired girl makes a sweeping motion with her arms, palms glowing as she summons a soft breeze. She clasps them together in front of her chest, closing her eyes as the soft winds cause her white hair and green dress to billow dramatically. “You must find a way to make them admit their love to one another, noble heroine. You must make them both see what they cannot on their own. Only then, can their love be repaired!”

As the glow disappears from Lady Ascart’s palms, the two friends hold their poses for a moment longer… then erupt into laughter. Sienna feels a bit awkward as she tries to laugh along. In truth, she feels a bit like she’s intruding.

Still, neither one of them seems to mind as they relax back into their seats, offering big smiles to both each other and to her.

“Sorry,” Lady Katarina giggles. “We do a lot of stuff like this usually… but it was also so funny to see how you were reacting!”

Lady Ascart holds a hand to her mouth as her crimson eyes crinkle with amusement. “We got a bit carried away!”

Sienna is not too pleased at the laugh at her expense… but she does notice that Lady Ascart seems much more relaxed around her now. Was that Lady Katarina’s intention all along?

“Oh, I’m being a terrible host,” Lady Ascart finally says, shaking her head as she forces her laughter to halt. “In truth… I am very happy to meet you, Sienna!”

Lady Ascart says her name very casually, but Sienna decides to go along with it, mirroring the action as much as her own status will allow. “It is good to meet you as well, Lady Sophia.”

Lady Sophia seems to take a shine to that, squealing softly at the noble calling her by her first name. Not that Sienna is high enough in social status to drop her title as Lady Katarina does, but… still. It’s surprisingly endearing.

“Lady Katarina has told me all about you,” Lady Sophia says, suddenly very interested in the fellow wind mage. “You’re a bit of a bookworm too, yes?”

Sienna flushes at that. “Mostly non-fiction… but I do dabble from time to time.” It had been hard not to, given how little she could do at the estate. Or afford outside it. “Still…” she glances away “…I’ve focused on my research since arriving at the academy.”

“I understand. Still… if you’re interested…” she flashes a wide smile at Sienna “…you’re more than welcome to join our next book meet-up!”

Despite herself, Sienna finds herself hesitantly returning the expression.

“As for you, Lady Katarina…” Lady Sophia looks back to the Lady Katarina “…I did mean what I said earlier. You need to show them that they both want the best for each other!” Her smile falls a bit. “Sorry I can’t be of more help.”

Lady Katarina shakes her head. “Not at all, Sophia! Your advice is very helpful!” She lingers on the question for a bit, bringing a finger to her chin. “Still… How can I get them to see it?”

Then, in a decision that Sienna fears she may come to regret, she raises her hand above her head. “Pardon… but I think I have an idea?”

“You want me to join your study group?”

Katarina nods at Mary, offering the lady a large grin as she stands at the threshold of her dormitory room. “At first it was just Sienna and I, but then we had a falling out and I ended up studying with Alan, but now Sienna is back studying with me and also Maria too which caught me off guard but I’m happy about, and I think Sophia’s going to be coming to this next one as well so I’d really like–” A bit too late, Katarina catches herself, cheeks flushing as she catches her breath. “Ah… Pardon me. What I mean to say is that the practical examinations are coming up soon. Does it not seem like a good time to brush up on our fundamentals?”

Mary shifts in the doorway, offering a small grin at Katarina’s inadvertent rant before her lips fall into a hesitant frown. “I do not know, Lady Katarina.” She crosses her arms, looking to the side. “I am not sure I am wanted there…”

“I want you there!”

Mary snaps back to Katarina, cheeks aglow.

Katarina feels a rush of embarrassment, but she pushes through it, shaking her head. “It is my study group, is it not?” She grins, swinging a gloved hand out to her side before gesturing at herself and tilting up her nose. “I would like you to join. That is all that matters!”

Mary stares at her for another moment before erupting in a grin of her own, laughing softly as she reaches out an arm to steady herself against the doorframe. “Lady Katarina… You are quite the jester, you know?”

Katarina’s smile weakens, but she shakes her head. “No, it’s true! Besides, Maria, Sienna, and Sophia all know you are coming.” She shifts a hand to her hip, holding the other at her side. “You have already met two of them, and the third is who suggested I invite you!”

Mary looks up at her, a hesitant expression again crossing her features as her mirth fades. “It is not them I am anxious about…”

Katarina suppresses a frown looks down at her dress, watching the blue, white, and cyan fabric ripple as she taps her boot against the hallway floor. How can she break this deadlock? Mary must be present for Sienna’s plan to have any chance of success! For her own good, she cannot allow her to decline. Yet it is not as though she can force her to attend, either.

She looks up, eyes narrowing. At the very least, she will make her circumstances extremely clear.

Katarina steps forward, grasping the peach skin of the Mary’s ungloved hand. The woman looks up with a gasp, turning to face her. “Lady Katarina?”

“Listen to me, Mary.” Katarina leans forward until her face is all that’s reflected in Mary’s auburn gaze. “You must have more confidence in yourself. You are the fiancée of a prince:  A future royal. Do you think you stand beside me by mere chance?” She squeezes the lady’s hand, eliciting a soft gasp. “You are here because you deserve to be.”

For a moment, Mary just stares at her, mouth agape. Then she smiles. “A-Alright, Lady Katarina.” She nods her head. “If you insist."

The library of the eastern building, despite its grand size and well-stocked shelves, is largely spurned by the students of the academy in favor of its larger, more centrally-located sibling. Sienna has been here several times before, but each time she’s found no more than a handful of students wandering the aisles and the several large study rooms empty.

This, of course, makes it a perfect place for them to bring Alan and Mary.

Of course, Lady Sophia’s participation isn’t something Sienna originally anticipated, nor is Prince Gerald’s. Still, the towering, octagonal study room has more than enough room to accommodate them all – and space to spare at that.

Katarina lets out a small gasp as she steps past the oaken doors into the large room, her boots clacking against the white marble floor as she looks up at the towering shelves of books. “This has been here the whole time?” She turns to Sienna, raising a brow. “Why haven’t we been studying here, Sienna?”

Sienna gestures at one of the shelves. “Most of these books have copies in the central library as well. The only reason you would come all the way here is if there was not a copy, or if you wanted quiet or privacy.”

She knew the latter desire well: It was exactly what she wanted while she had been… estranged from Lady Katarina, after all.

Her fiancé, Prince Gerald, follows closely behind, putting a hand on her shoulder as he too takes in the sight. He glances toward the large window on the wall at the opposite side of the room, raising a brow at the cast-iron grid and floral pattern overlaying it before turning his gaze to the dark oak paneling lining the walls. “Quite an expensive room to see so few visitors.” He smirks, seeming to find the contrast amusing.

Prince Alan and Lady Hunt file in shortly afterward, the auburn-haired woman tugging on Alan’s purple coat as his eyes dart straight to Lady Katarina.

“Alan,” Lady Hunt says, gesturing to the octagonal table ringed by eight red chairs. “Would you mind sitting next to me?”

“Oh, sure, yeah.” Despite Lady Hunt’s pull, Prince Alan’s eyes don’t leave the brunette. “Anywhere is fine by me.”

Lady Hunt hides her frown with a flick of her fan, bringing the yellow implement before her lips even as her auburn eyes shine with irritation. It’s only for a moment before she lowers it though, grinning with inauthentic cheer. “Certainly, Alan!” Her heels clack against the marble floor as she turns to the table.

Lady Sophia files in second-to-last, heading up the rear with an unfamiliar black-haired and green-eyed maid holding an assortment of bags. Sienna raises an eyebrow at the latter figure: Given the uniform, she’s definitely one of the Claes’, but she’s always seen Katarina with a different servant.

Lady Katarina seems to take interest in a different aspect of the situation. “Eh? I mean… Pardon?” She tilts her head at Lady Ascart. “Nicol isn’t coming, Sophia?”

Sienna’s frown deepens at that. Lady Katarina expected another tag-along? There are too many already!

Lady Sophia just offers her a grin as she shakes her head. “I asked him, but…” her smile weakens as her crimson eyes glance away “…he still feels guilty for causing you to faint yesterday.”

The luminous blush that covers the brunette’s cheeks at that remark does not escape Sienna’s notice. Nor that of Lady Katarina’s fiancé.

Prince Gerald chuckles, though it holds absolutely no mirth. “I know my friend has trouble expressing himself around women. I would imagine that is what you are referring to, Katarina?” His blond brow twitches as his voice drops in tone. “It was nothing more, I’m sure…”

Lady Katarina gives him an odd look, but Lady Sophia just grins.

As the combined group moves toward the table, Sienna hovers by the doors, waiting for the one student that has yet to arrive. She doesn’t have to wait long, as Miss Maria soon dives out from behind a bookshelf with her picnic basket swinging from her arm as she hustles to the private room’s doors. She pants lightly as she comes to a stop before Sienna, wiping her arm against her forehead as she offers the noblewoman a gentle smile. “Sorry, I’m late. Getting here took a bit longer than I anticipated…”

Sienna nods, lowering her voice as she whispers to Miss Maria. “I hope your portions hold up. We have one more guest than I anticipated.”

Her smile weakens, but she nods. “I made extras for Lady Katarina. There should be enough… I think.”

“Maria, Sienna!” Lady Katarina’s voice calls out from behind them. “Come join us!”

“We’ll have to improvise, but try and follow the plan,” Sienna whispers.

Maria nods, and the two pink-clad women move toward the table to do exactly that.

Katarina notices the way Sienna keeps shifting in her seat to look at the others surrounding her. The flaxen blonde’s gold eyes keep darting between herself and the twin princes sitting at Katarina’s sides. Katarina can only guess Sienna feels a bit intimidated. After all, a good portion of the royal family currently occupies this room. Now is an excellent time for introductions!

“Gerald, Alan, Mary” she turns toward each of them, before pointing across the table, “this is Lady Sienna Nelson, firstborn of the Nelson Barony and a long-time friend of mine.”

The latter two make polite introductions. The former waits for last. When the time comes for Gerald to speak, a devious grin splits his lips. “Hello again, Lady Nelson. When we last met, I believe you thought me an attempted murderer?”

The girl goes pale as a bedsheet, and Katarina does not fare much better. She forgot that Sienna placed herself between her and Gerald the day she’d returned through time!

Before she has time to concoct an explanation or excuse, the third prince’s smile lightens, and his red cape flutters as he lifts a halting hand. “Please. I do not hold it against you.” He turns to Katarina, grinning. “Rather…  I think I understand more and more why it’s so easy to get caught in her fantasies.”

Katarina blushes. The rest of the table just stares at the three of them with bewildered expressions, having absolutely no idea how to follow the conversation they just had.

“Yeah, I’m not going to even try to unpack that,” Alan sighs, leaning back in his chair.

“So,” Maria coughs out. “Prince Alan… Isn’t it nice to have your fiancée on the council with you now?” She turns to the copper-haired noblewoman sitting at Alan’s side, offering her a gentle grin. “It really makes a difference to have someone you care about so close at hand, right?”

Alan’s blue eyes blink as he glances to Mary, lifting a finger to his chin as he seems to consider it. “It’s been fine, I guess? Mary’s always been very kind to me.” He drops his hand, dark scarf shifting around his neck as he shrugs. “I don’t know, Maria. Is there some reason you’re asking?”

The golden blonde shrinks beneath the fourth prince’s ensuing gaze. In spite of her many talents… it is oddly heartening to realize Maria is terrible at deception.

“I quite enjoy the time we spend together, Alan!” Mary turns to him with a grin, clasping her hands before her chest. “I have no regrets about taking Lady Katarina’s generous invitation!”

Alan nods, returning her smile. “Yeah… You’re always there for me, Mary. You’re like the sister I never had.” Then, he turns away.

Katarina grimaces as she sinks into her chair, but the woman does not explode as Katarina expects, instead flashing a radiant smile even as her auburn eyes fill with despair.

“Mary…” Katarina says almost automatically.

Six pairs of eyes snap to her the moment the words leave her lips.

“…you truly a-are a gem of a woman,” she stammers, trying to complete her sentence. “I think Prince Alan is quite lucky to have you at his side.”

The woman’s expression lightens slightly as she nods, but the despair does not leave her eyes.

Meanwhile, Gerald looks at her, then back to Mary, a dark suspicion forming in his azure gaze. “You do admire her quite a lot, Katarina.” He raises a brow, as though expecting her to admit something.

Katarina just tilts her head. “Have you not heard of her reputation? She has perfect etiquette. It is not an exaggeration to call her the perfect noblewoman.” She bashes her hair as she glances at a random bookshelf and her voice drops to a whisper. “Of course I admire her.”

An uncomfortable silence descends on the room. In that interim, something on the shelf she’s looking at sparkles. She blinks, narrowing her eyes to get a better look.

Her face whips to face Gerald as he places his hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently as he offers a false smile. “So, my fiancée, what would you like to study? After all,” he gestures to everyone seated at the table, and to the maid standing at its side, “that is why we are all here, isn’t it? To study?”

There’s a quiet murmur of approvals, so Katarina turns to her secondary personal maid. “Isabel, can you check back in an hour or two? I will let you know if we need your assistance then.”

Her braid flings outwards as she dips her head in a bow. “O-Of course, My Lady.”

She makes her way to the front of the private study room, closing the large oak doors as she exits.

“Now,” Katarina sighs, looking back to her study mates. “Practical exams are coming up, and I’d quite like to do well.” She pauses, thinking back on her last life. “I believe we should brush up on ancient script and applied magic theory…”

The tension lessens as the seven spend more time with one another. While Sienna still seems high-strung, both she and Sophia seem to take a shine to Mary the more they speak.

“You have such striking hair, Lady Hunt!” Sophia looks over her shoulder at the noblewoman at her side, crimson eyes sparkling as looks it over. “It reminds me of the heroine in Siren of the Sixth Sea!”

Mary flushes, looking up from the book in front of her as she glances at the white-haired girl and tilts her head in confusion. “You… like my hair?”

Sophia nods quickly, though her smile weakens as she processes the girl’s words. “Are you… ashamed of it, Lady Hunt?”

Her auburn eyes glance away from her, an uncertain expression crossing her lips. “My sisters always told me it reminded them of my mother…”

Sophia gasps. “I bet she’s really beautiful too!”

Mary looks down at her lap. “She is dead.”

Tension once again fills the room, and Katarina once again feels her heart twist. “Mary–”

“I have only ever seen my birth mother in portraits,” Sienna interjects. Her golden eyes look at Mary with sympathy. “I am told I resemble her as well.”

Mary blinks, looking up at Sienna. She seems shocked at the commonality, but then her expression morphs to something warmer. “I am sorry to hear that, Lady Sienna.” She offers a weak smile. “I am sure she was a wonderful woman.”

Sienna nods, though she looks away at the lady’s casual address.

Sophia places a hand on her shoulder. “You shouldn’t be ashamed of yourself, Lady Mary.” She closes her eyes, beaming at the lady. “I think you’re quite stunning!”

Her cheeks flush, and her lips form an awkward smile as she looks back to her textbook. “You both are too kind.”

“It is… difficult to lose someone you care about.” Maria’s expression lowers. “Or for them to leave you behind…”

Mary looks back up, looking to the commoner sitting at Sophia’s side. She offers a weak smile. “Indeed.”

Alan tugs his collar, coughing as his eyes glance to the side. “Well… Perhaps we should move on to the next chapter of the textbook?” He looks back to the material on the table, frowning. “It’s not difficult to decipher the ancient script in the example here, but I’m stumped what that passage actually means…”

“Actually,” Sienna declares, suddenly rising from her chair. “I need to step out for a moment.”

Maria stares at her for a moment. Then, her eyes widen as she too jumps to her feet. “Ah! Yes! I too need to step out!” She steps out from the chair, pushing it back in as she takes a step to Sienna’s side. “We will be back!”

Sophia gives them a knowing look, and nods at the two them before the two file out of the ornate doors.

Katarina just turns back to the shelf she looked at earlier: She swears she sees it sparkle again.

“This isn’t working,” Sienna sighs, cradling her forehead in her palm as she shakes her head.

Miss Maria clasps her hands in front of her skirt as she looks down at the white marble beneath them. “Are we distracting them from each other?”

“Well, yes,” Sienna admits, “but I don’t think it matters. Prince Alan is distracted enough by Lady Katarina already.”

The golden blonde looks back up at her, blinking blue eyes as she brings a finger to her chin. Her brows furrow. “Lady Sophia and Lady Katarina know what we’re doing, right?”

Sienna nods, dropping her hand to her side. “Yes. Lady Ascart was there when I explained it, and Lady Katarina was the one who wanted to get them together in the first place.”

The commoner’s lips purse. “I don’t think we can force Prince Alan and Lady Mary to get along with each other if they don’t want to.”

Sienna shakes her head, groaning. “You are right, Miss Maria, but…” she glances to the side, looking at the large doors separating them from the study room “…I do not want to disappoint Lady Katarina.”

“I don’t either,” Miss Maria agrees.

Sienna begins to pace, bringing her head down in thought as her shoes clack against the floor. There has to be another way of going about this. Some way that—

Her blood runs cold as she hears faint shouts of panic from behind the study room doors.

The commoner and noblewoman look up at each other for one moment with wide eyes, then both rush towards the doors, hesitating only for a moment at the bright green light now pouring out from underneath them.

Sienna and Miss Maria throw open the doors, with the wind mage summoning every bit of her pitiful mana to her fingertips as she looks straight into the blinding light and prepares to do whatever she can against whatever this is.

The light disappears, and a single book falls from the air, landing atop the table at the center of the study room.

Sienna and Miss Maria cautiously survey the now-desolate study room, only extinguishing their glowing palms as they look back at each other.

“That book did something,” Sienna says. It is an obvious conclusion, but one she feels compelled to state.

Miss Maria glances to the red-leathered tome sitting at the center of the table. Her trepidation is obvious – and shared by Sienna herself. Five people sat in this room. Now it is only her and Miss Maria. Should they even approach the book? Should one of them leave to get help?

The twin mages jump as they hear the doors to the room open behind them, both raising glowing palms once more as they ready to defend themselves.

The green eyes of Lady Katarina’s maid widen, and she staggers backward. “P-Pardon?!”

Glowing palms extinguish once more as the two breathe a sigh of relief.

The two pink-clad girls quickly explain the situation to the maid, asking her to find the closest student council or faculty member and relay what is happening. The raven-haired woman nods, shaking her head before rushing back out the large doors.

Unfortunately, this simply returns them to the dilemma of what to do about the book.

“We can wait until she returns with assistance?” Sienna offers.

Miss Maria shakes her head. She clutches the pink fabric of her dress above her heart, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath before they open with newfound determination. “I’m going to open it.”

Before Sienna can try and talk her out of it, the light mage makes her way toward the tome sitting at the center of the table. She hesitates for a moment, but realizes the light mage has a point: They are dealing with unknown magic. Waiting puts Lady Katarina – puts everyone who sat with them at that table – at risk. There is really only one option.

She strides forward, shaking her head as she rushes in front of the golden blonde. “Please, Miss Maria. Let me risk it.”

Without waiting for her response, Sienna scoops the book up from the table and examines the cover. At first touch, it does not feel magical. Rather, it simply feels new – with not a single sign of wear on the red cover.

Even as the title written in ancient script strongly suggests otherwise.

“A Tale by the Name of Desire?” Miss Maria repeats, looking over Sienna’s shoulder as she raises a finger to her chin.

The cover simply shows what appears to be a stylized, circular illustration of a wave of water colliding with a sea of stars. The title – in flawless, flowing ancient script – sits above.

Sienna glances back at the girl behind her shoulder. “You may want to stand back, Miss Maria. I am going to open it.”

The girl shakes her head, her expression determined. “I am with you, Lady Sienna.”

It is more comforting to hear than Sienna would expect… but it doesn’t stop her fingers from shaking as she opens the cover.

Nothing happens:  The book opens, like normal.

Like it didn’t just eat five people.

Her lips purse as she thumbs past the blank cover page, finding another page written in ancient script.

“When one’s desire is fulfilled…” Sienna begins, finding her throat dry as her eyes crawl across the page her.

“…those captured may be saved,” Miss Maria completes for her, a similar hesitation in her voice.

Steadying herself, Sienna flips to the first chapter.

———— ⟡ ————

Katarina blinked open her eyes to find herself in an elegant parlor. Soft light poured through the window at her side, illuminating the dark oak fireplace. A picture of an elegant manor hung above the clock sitting on the mantle, standing out in front of the elegant tan wallpaper.

Katarina did not recognize any of it.

Her lips pursed as she looked down at her lap, finding a book opened wide in her arms. Suddenly, her memories came rushing back: The book she’d pulled from the library shelf; the sparkling green light that poured out of it as it rose from her hands and pulled her very being into its pages. Fear shot through her heart as she let go of the tome, dropping the accursed thing on the floor as she scrambled up on the yellow sofa and hugged it protectively.

“Lady Katarina…?” a soft voice asked.

Katarina whipped her head to her side, finding Sophia looking at her with wide red eyes. She relaxed a bit, a smile crawling across her lips. “Sophia!” Without thinking, she pulled the girl into a tight embrace, easily wrapping her arms around Sophia’s thin shoulders. “You’re okay!”

The pale-skinned girl eagerly returned her affection, but it did not stop a hint of confusion from seeping into her tone. “Of course I am…?”

Katarina pulled back, just as confused by Sophia’s reaction as Sophia was by her own. “How did we get out of the library?” she asked, frowning. “The last thing I remember was getting sucked in by that strange book…”

Sophia brushed a strand of her white hair from her face as she shifted on the couch cushion. “Library?” She blinked. “Lady Katarina, it is summer break.”

The eyes of the ducal daughter went wide, a lance of fear shooting through her heart. She had traveled through time again? But this time, she didn’t even die!

Wait… if this was summer break… then had she made it past the end of the year? Or had she returned to the prior summer break? She looked up from Sophia, surveying the room as her frown deepened. Was this Ascart Manor? She’d never been here before. Certainly not last summer.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the woman placing her hand on her shoulder, looking at her with wide eyes as she made a request. “Lady Katarina… Can we please keep reading together?”

The ducal daughter found her will to deny her crumble beneath the beautiful girl’s pleading expression. What features the Ascarts had – brother and sister alike were both infused with this perfect, doll-like beauty. “V-Very well,” she replied, trying to hide her blush. She’d just have to think of what to do about her current circumstances while she spent time with Sophia.

———— ⟡ ————

“They’re trapped in the book,” Sienna states. Again, it is obvious, but the sheer impossibility of it makes her want to state it out loud as though to test her own sanity. Even by the standards of magic… this is almost incomprehensible.

Miss Maria nods, seeming lost in thought as she stares at the moving illustrations on the page. “Is this a world the book created, or just an illusion?”

Neither possibility appeals to Sienna as she turns her eyes back to the ancient script now narrating her friend’s life.

———— ⟡ ————

Sophia was clearly in a fey mood as Katarina read aloud to her. She clung tightly to Katarina, pressing her body against her own as warm breath brushed against her ear.

Katarina, ever the refined lady, found it hard not to stammer her words as her eyes stumbled and tripped across the book’s pages. Especially as the paragraphs began to wax lyrical about the heroine’s astounding beauty – her silk skin and soft, gentle hair.

Sophia always had a fragrance like a new book: A clean, crisp scent that made one imagine fresh ink on a page. It was practically overwhelming now, with her body so close.

“Turn the page.” Though Sophia whispered, her voice was loud in Katarina’s ear.

Katarina had forgotten to keep reading. How could she remember to keep reading? This was too much. Feeling Sophia’s gentle hands on her back… feeling her warmth on her side… Just too much. Too much!

Yet as she clapped the book shut in her hands, feeling her body grow warmer and warmer as she made a move to rise to her feet, the lady at her side gently pressed her back down.

“Lady Katarina,” Sophia’s red eyes sparkled with an unfamiliar intensity. “Do you want to leave me?”

Katarina’s will to sit up from the couch died immediately. So, the noblewoman shook her head.

Sophia smiled in turn. “Good… I’m glad, Lady Katarina…” She closed her eyes, pulling Katarina even closer to her on the couch as her snow-white hair draped over the brunette’s head.

“S-Sophia,” Katarina managed to choke, shaking her head as the girl’s fragrance enveloped her. “W-Where is this? When is this?” The lady was sure something was wrong here, now. That certainty was the only thing keeping her from succumbing to whatever this overwhelming feeling was. “I’m so confused. What is going on?”

In lieu of a response, Sophia crawled atop her, making her fall back into the soft cushions of the couch as her red eyes filled with happiness.

A tense moment passed as the pale girl lay on her chest. “Lady Katarina,” Sophia whispered, pressing a soft hand to her cheek. “Your eyes are so beautiful…”

Lady Katarina Claes, who thought herself a lady of noble breeding and etiquette, nonetheless reacted quite profusely. Her cheeks reddened as they burnt from beautiful girl’s soft touch.

Sophia then crawled forward still, her soft, gentle hair flowing down her shoulders with the warmth of each breath. She leaned in close, bringing her face just inches from the brunette’s own.

“Katarina.” She spoke without title; her voice husky. “I lo–”

———— ⟡ ————

The book slams shut as it’s pulled from Sienna’s grip. The wind mage blinks, rousing from her focus as she turns to glare at the interloper.

The light mage blushes, hugging the book ever-more tightly against her chest as she looks at Sienna with wide blue eyes.

Her expression explains all Sienna needs to know.

“Ah. It is like that, is it?”

Miss Maria’s face reddens further, and she looks away as she nods.

Sienna sighs, rolling her head back as she nurses her forehead. She’d suspected as much – as did several rumors. Lady Sophia had been the greater surprise, to be honest.

“Well... I think the only way to get them all out is to let at least one of them fulfill their heart’s desire.” Sienna frowns, gesturing to the side as she faces the commoner once more. “If not Lady Sophia, then Prince Alan, Prince Gerald, Lady Mary, or Lady Katarina.”

Miss Maria perks up at that, whipping her head to face Sienna as she nods. “Can we choose Lady Mary, then?”

Sienna points at the book the mage cradles so tightly, frowning. “I doubt that thing is going to let us ‘choose’ anything.”

Miss Maria mirrors the expression, looking down at the book in her hands. Then, her blue eyes widen as she looks back up at Sienna. “I think I know what this is, Lady Sienna.” Her voice darkens as she removes one hand from the book and places a finger to her chin, looking intently at the book’s cover as she examines it in her other hand. “Do you remember hearing a rumor about a magic book that craves the desires of humans?”

Sienna blinks, her eyes widening. “I do. It was supposedly one of the pre-Sorciéran artifacts that were tied to the academy…” she pauses, trying to recall more. “One of the… school’s seven mysteries?” She had thought all that nonsense to be junk, to be honest: It had all the characteristics of a ghost story meant to scare the poor, impressionable first-year students. When that second-year nobleman had told her the stories during a particularly slow lunch period, she had assumed him to be mocking her.  Now… she is not as convinced.  She blinks, leering at the tome in Miss Maria’s hands. “That thing looks pristine, though. Not old at all.”

Miss Maria seems to come to a similar conclusion; her blue eyes deep with thought as she stares at the book’s condition. “It looks new… because it feeds off human desires.”

Sienna’s eyes widen, and she yanks the tome from the commoner, looking it over herself as a sense of panic fills her chest. “So, they really are in danger?”

The light mage leans back, startled, but hesitantly shakes her head. “I don’t think so? That’s all I heard…” she looks back up to the ceiling, thinking. “Perhaps it’s more of a symbiotic relationship? The book traps them, but gives them their fantasies to feed its hunger, and lets them out when it’s full…?”

Sienna is less than convinced, sharing a nervous glance. “Or perhaps we are on a time limit, Miss Maria.”

Miss Maria clutches the maroon ribbon around her collar, tugging it nervously as Sienna’s anxiety becomes mirrored in her own. “Let’s open it, then…”

———— ⟡ ————

When Katarina again opened her eyes, she found herself on a balcony of the royal palace, overlooking the dim lights of the capital beneath a beautiful sea of stars.

Katarina remembered this place. She had been here once, when she was younger and still thought Gerald loved her the same way she loved him.

The one thing the lady did not understand was why she was here now.

She had just been with Sophia, trying to keep her wits about her as her senses launched into overdrive. While Katarina was grateful for the opportunity to clear her head and let those strange sensations fade, she did not understand how it was possible for her to have gone from that room to this balcony in such a short period of time. Was she losing her memory? Had she become untethered from time completely? Both of those explanations sounded preposterous, but if that was not what was happening… what was?

“The view is beautiful from here.”

Katarina spun on her heel, coming face to face with the blue eyes and blond hair of Prince Gerald – her fiancé. She sighed in relief, clutching her dress as she stepped toward him. “I am so glad to see you, Gerald.”

His handsome features shined in the starlight. “As am I, my darling.”

Katarina hesitated, blinking at him. At that moment, she realized that the fabric clenched in her gloved hand was not the familiar blue-cyan-and-white gown she normally wore, but the same star-studded gown she’d worn at the academy ball. She looked down at herself, blinking at the pattern, before looking back up to the prince.

He was wearing a different outfit as well, now: The gold royal sigil on his brooch as always, but atop a dapper gray shirt and blue tie, with a gold-trimmed white suit that had a matching white rose pinned to its lapel.

He looked absolutely stunning.

Katarina let out an awkward laugh as blood rushed to her cheeks, but shook it off as she remembered her circumstances. “Gerald, listen to me: Something is wrong.” She pointed to herself, shaking her head. “I’m not supposed to be here.”

The prince tilted his head in confusion, his blue eyes shining with the same strange light Katarina had seen in Sophia’s red. “Why wouldn’t you be here?” He extended his hand to her, the soft skin almost pearlescent in the moonlight. “You are my fiancée.”

She shook her head, pushing his hand away. “That’s not the issue! I opened some book and now…” she clutched herself, turning back to look over the balcony’s edge. “Nothing makes sense.”

Katarina heard his quiet footfalls behind her, the prince’s perfect smile falling as he leaned over the stone baluster and took a place at her side. A soft breeze carried through the air, ruffling his blond hair as he turned to her.

“I cannot make up for how I’ve treated you, Katarina.” He closed his eyes, shaking his head with a soft chuckle. “Even once I’d realized you’d changed…  I thought myself smart for thinking I’d simply commit the same sins my grandfather once did. The only thing that prevented me from dooming myself before I even realized what I’d be giving up was a lack of opportunity!” He looked back out to the capital, face settling into a deep frown. “They call me perfect; say I’m a genius…” He shook his head, wincing as his eyes shut. “I still haven’t any idea how to handle feeling this way about you, Katarina.”

The lady blinked not sure how to respond. It wasn’t really an answer to what she’d said… but it also felt deeply vulnerable and personal in a way she’d hardly seen from Gerald.

“Gerald…” she spared him a glance, looking up from the baluster “…I don’t know how to feel about you.” She glanced away, clutching the cosmic fabric of her dress. “I still want to love you, but…”

Her voice trailed off. How could she ever encapsulate all the things she wanted to say?

“You used to smother me, but now you are distant. I grow to enjoy your company, and you seem to outgrow mine.” He laughed again, slamming his fist into the stone. “It is a perfect torture. Truly, I could not have designed a better punishment myself.”

Katarina looked down to the ground, so very far beneath them. “Am I… torture for you, Gerald?”

“No.” The response was as immediate as it was forceful. “My torment is entirely self-inflicted. Had I treated you with understanding instead of irritation…” his voice trailed off.

Almost on impulse, she placed her hand on his back. His head snapped up in surprise, though a gentle smile returned to his lips as he looked back at her.

She was having more trouble distinguishing the false smiles from the real ones, these days. Yet she somehow knew this one was real.

“You are very beautiful when you smile, you know.”

It was her thoughts, but his voice that said it. She was confused for a moment, until she realized her own lips had curled upwards.

Before she had time to protest, he extended an arm of his own, wrapping it around her back as he swept her from her feet.

“Sometimes…” he admitted with his face so very close to hers“…I think about how much I’d like to make you deliciously uncomfortable when you wear it.”

A shiver trembled down her spine as he said it. This was everything she had ever wanted to hear from the royal – the man she had loved for so long.

But… at that moment… her smile fell as she realized why there was something wrong with this place.

“This is not real.”

It couldn’t be. For him to have such love in his eyes as he stared at her… To have a voice so husky with want… Even if this was a different Gerald from the one who’d killed her… it just couldn’t be true.

No-one would love her that way.

As if to confirm her suspicions, the prince gave no response to her accusation.

She pushed free of his grip and grabbed him by the shoulders, panic rising in her chest. “Did you hear me, Gerald? This is not real!”

He stared at her, tilting his head once more. “Katarina… Why are you shaking me?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Prince Gerald, are you listening?”

He nodded. “Of course, Katarina.”

She looked him directly in the eyes as she spoke with clear intonation. “That book did something to all of us! This is not real!”

He blinked at her. “Your eyes are so beautiful, Katarina.”

She screamed as she shook him once more.

———— ⟡ ————

Sienna closes the book shut, offering a frown as she glances at Miss Maria. “He’s bespelled.”

Miss Maria nods, mirroring her concern. “They all are. The magic of the book is preventing them from realizing anything is wrong.”

Sienna raises a brow at that, shaking her head as she glances to the empty chairs arranged around the private study room’s central table. “Not Lady Katarina. She seems acutely aware.”

Miss Maria hums at that, bringing her hand to her chin. “You are right, Lady Sienna. I wonder why…?”

Sienna blinks, a flash of inspiration coming to her as she notices only Lady Katarina’s seat is pushed back. “Katarina said that she opened the book.” She turns back to Miss Maria, bringing a finger to her chin. “Maybe that makes her special, somehow?”

Miss Maria gasps; the ribbon tied to the back of her golden hair shaking as she looks up at Sienna and nods. “That would make sense! Maybe the original ‘reader’ is immune to that part of the book’s magic?”

Sienna frowns. “Still… I am worried what will happen if I open it again.” She looks to the book in her hand. “Lady Katarina seems to be working herself into a blind panic… I do not want to subject her to that further.”

Maria looks at her with similar concern. “Perhaps the next fantasy will be better?”

Sienna swallows dryly, looking back to the tome in her hands. “I suppose there is only one way to tell…”

———— ⟡ ————

When Katarina opened her eyes once more, she wasted no time trying to find a way out of this horrendous illusion. She sat up from the comfortable cushions she was laying on, immediately looking around for an exit.

Instead, she saw the faces of all her friends smiling back at her.

“Alan? Gerald? Sophia?” She pointed to each of them as she called their names, and each of them returned her gesture with a smile.

Her fear at least temporarily allayed, Katarina took a closer look at the room around her. She didn’t quite recognize this place, but it reminded her of one of the manor’s paintings: It was a beautiful seaside villa, with a patio open to the crystal blue sea and with columns carved of light marble.

A sense of calm washed over her as she closed her eyes and listened to the distant crashing of waves. Perhaps this world – though false – was not bad enough that she needed to rush from it. Would anyone blame her for lingering just a while?

“Shall I feed you more grapes?” Gerald asked, and Katarina suddenly noticed the fruit in his hand – as well as the light summer outfit hugging his figure.

She waved a hand dismissively, closing her eyes as she reclined back into her bed. “You shall.”

To her satisfaction, when she next opened her mouth, the prince did exactly that. A smile curled her lips as she savored the perfect taste. Then, as the cherry on top, she felt Alan’s hands grasp her shoulders and knead into them as the fourth prince gave her a massage.

No. She did not need to rush at all. She could stay here for a good while.

Her contentment was only broken as she realized who was missing. She lurched up from the soft massage bed. “Where is Mary?”

“She is down at the beach!” Sophia responded, flashing a grin. The snow-white Ascart was wearing a similarly airy skirt – one also quite easy on the eyes.

But, she needed to focus. Alan was fine – a glance to her side confirmed that – but she at least needed to check up on Mary before she did anything else. So, she nodded as she leaned up from her bed. “I will go talk to her.”

Before she had the chance to get her footing, the cushioned fabric beneath her lifted up from the ground, and she was carried up into the air with it. The twin royals smiled up at from her sides, blue eyes shining at her. “Please, allow us, Lady Katarina!”

She laughed… though a sudden hesitation tugged at her chest. “That is… not necessary.”

In a similarly abrupt motion, they lowered her back to the ground, bowing to her right after they did. “Of course, Lady Katarina.”

The feeling in her chest intensified. This was definitely not right.

“E-Excuse me,” she stammered, quickly making her leave from the villa.

She hiked up the skirt of her summer dress as her sandals sunk into the warm, clear sand with each footfall. The spot of yellow on the horizon quickly resolved into Mary’s figure, and the girl looked up to her with a wide smile as she dipped her head respectfully. “Hello, Lady Katarina.”

Katarina sighed; feeling relieved to see the girl was here after all. “Are you alright Mary? I saw Alan, but…” she pursed her lips as she glanced over her shoulder back to the blue-roofed villa she’d fled from “…he was acting strange.”

The girl dipped her head again, still smiling. “I am fine, Lady Katarina. Even better now that you are here!”

Katarina smiled at that, cheeks reddening a bit as she got a better look at the lady’s beach wear. To say that the airy yellow summer dress looked flattering on her would be a similar level of understatement to saying the sun looked bright: The girl was positively radiant.

Still, she shook her head and forced her eyes back to Mary’s. She needed to remain focused. “Mary… Can you try and help me find a way out of here?”

Mary smiled, nodding her head. “Of course, Lady Katarina! Anything for you!”

Katarina’s chest tightened, though she tried to ignore the sudden surge of anxiety these displays had begun to spark. It could have just been coincidence, after all. So, she nodded. “I know you’re smart. Do you know anything about illusionary worlds? Any magic to dispel them?” She felt like Maria or Sienna would definitely know, but the two blondes – thankfully – appeared to have avoided being trapped here.

Mary raised a finger to her chin, still smiling even as her eyes rolled back and her brows furrowed in thought. After a moment, her gaze returned to her, and she shook her head. “I’m sorry, Lady Katarina: I cannot remember anything like that.” She tilted her head. “Why would you want to leave here, anyway? Isn’t this world just perfect for you?”

Katarina’s eyes narrowed. The sounds of the beach seemed to fade as she realized she could no longer ignore the anxiety growing in her stomach. “Fine. Then let’s say that I am done with that request:  What would you like to do now, Mary?”

The woman’s auburn eyes creased with glee. “Whatever you would like to do, Lady Katarina!”

Katarina swallowed, feeling the sun on her skin fade as her worst fears seemed to be confirmed. “You just did what I wanted.” She pointed to herself before pointing back to the noblewoman, trying to force a grin. “Now it is your turn: What would you like to do, Mary?”

The woman’s auburn eyes creased with glee. “Whatever you would like to do, Lady Katarina!”

The false smile fell from Katarina’s lips as she stepped back from the smiling woman, fear lancing her heart as she raised her arm defensively. “T-Then answer me this: Are you real?”

“Of course, Lady Katarina!” The woman smiled as she closed her eyes and tilted her head. “You were so kind to me yesterday evening… I truly cannot thank you enough, Lady Katarina!”

Katarina did not relax, instead swallowing dryly. “So you at least remember that was yesterday?”

Mary’s auburn eyes opened, her grinning expression otherwise not shifting an inch. “Yes!”

“Do you remember before that?” Katarina swallowed anxiously, feeling her composure teetering on a knife’s edge. “When you were angry at me?”

Mary brought a finger to her chin, thinking about it momentarily before shaking her head. “I cannot remember ever feeling anything but a desire to please you, Lady Katarina!”

A chill ran down Katarina’s spine. “You mean you are being prevented from desiring anything but to please me...”

As if to confirm her suspicion, the lady did not respond: The thoughts her words should have inspired never even crossed her mind. She heard them, but could not react: Could not even think of reacting.

If this was truly Mary… She was now a puppet, made to dance for her.

“N-No…” Katarina hunched over, gripping her forehead as the world seemed to fade around her. “This is not what I desire…”

———— ⟡ ————

The book glows as it leaps from Sienna’s hands and shuts itself. Both mages reel back in surprise, but the tome loses its sparkle as falls harmlessly back into Sienna’s grip.

“I think… the book got that one wrong?” Miss Maria says eventually, offering Sienna an uncertain frown. “It thought Lady Katarina desired to be doted on and served by her friends… but when she realized why they were acting that way…”

“…She rejected the fantasy entirely.” Sienna nods, looking back down at the red leather cover of this accursed book. She is heartened to have proof that Katarina respects her friends’ free will and right to make their own decisions… but part of her wonders if both she and Maria would have been included in that hedonistic fantasy as well, had they not left the room before the book could capture them.

A glance at the slight blush of the commoner at her side makes her realize that Miss Maria may not be as opposed to the thought as she is.

Sienna shakes her head, regaining her focus as she glares at the enchanted book in her hands. “Should we really keep trying? This awful thing is putting Lady Katarina through the wringer…” What is taking Isabel so long, anyway? Sienna feels like help should have arrived by now…

Miss Maria looks at her with a sad expression, nodding her head. “The only way out is to fulfill one of their desires.” She clasps her hands before her skirt, wringing her hands as her blue eyes dart down to the floor. “I do not like seeing Lady Katarina go through this either…”

Sienna closes her eyes and lets out a sigh. “Hopefully, this one will be the last…” Then, re-opening her eyes and steadying herself, she opens the book once more.

———— ⟡ ————

A sense of resigned dread descended on the noble lady as she opened her eyes once more to find herself in an unfamiliar place. Grand red curtains draped behind the stage she stood atop, the audience of the recital hall entranced by the soft, gentle melody emanating from the piano beside her.

Alan sat at its front, his usual outfit swapped for a black vest over a white shirt with a black bowtie and matching black pants. His eyes were closed as his hands danced across the keys, only briefly opening to glance at the sheet music sitting before him as he flipped the page.

In other circumstances, Katarina would find this flattering. The noble lady would relish the thought of being atop the stage at his side; sharing the center of attention of the many eyes of the audience and – most likely – a target of many girls’ misguided envy. Yet these were no other circumstance: They were a falsehood; an illusion.

Unfortunately… this illusion did not seem to be one she could escape or free them from.

She closed her eyes, leaning against the piano even as her touch dampened its beautiful melody. She could hardly care about the extravagant dress she now wore or the eyes of the crowd upon her. They weren’t real. None of this was.

She did not understand what drove these scenarios. Sophia acting… strange, Gerald acting remorseful, that pampered villa on the beach, and now… Alan playing his music. Was the book trying to please her? Was it trying to lull her into a false sense of security so she would not resist its temptations? That had to be the case: There was no possibility that any of the things she had seen would be things her friends would actually want to do out of their own will.

Her fists tightened. How dare it. Her friends were not toys. They were not to be made playthings for anyone – herself included. If they wished these things out of genuine desire, that would be one thing, but to force them to act in ways it thought would please her? To hollow them out and make them puppets? It was unforgivable.

Yet her fists relaxed as tears teased the edge of her eyes. How could she fight it? Even as she seemed to be immune to whatever magic had bespelled them, she did not know how to stop it.

She was surprised, then, to hear the recital doors thrown open as another lady’s shout echoed through the hall.

“Alan Stuart!”

The piano’s tone stumbled to a halt as Alan missed his marks. Katarina opened her eyes and looked to the fourth prince just in time to see his own expression morph from irritation to confusion.

“Mary?”

At the top of the recital hall, her figure silhouetted by the bright white sunlight now pouring in through the open doors, the copper-haired woman stood in defiance. Her auburn eyes narrowed as she surveyed the hall, barely glancing at the assorted spectators except to spare Katarina a single nod. Then, her gaze darted to Alan.

Mary closed her eyes, took a deep breath in… and exhaled out. Auburn eyes opened once more, now filled with determination. “Alan,” she yelled, unfurling her fan as she strode down the central aisle, “we need to talk.”

Alan looked to her, blue eyes filling with confusion at her uncharacteristic tone. “Mary?” He blinked, stepping up from his bench as he gestured at the now-silent piano. “I’m kind of in the middle of something, can’t you wait?”

Mary raised the fan to her face, hiding the frown that erupted across her lips. “No. I will not wait any longer.” Her heels thumped against the red carpeted floor as her yellow dress rippled with each step she took. “Do you remember what you told me at my personal garden all those years ago, Alan?”

The fourth prince blinked, frown deepening. “Mary, this is not the–”

“Do you remember?”

The crowd’s eyes swept between the two of them as they neared, a few figures leaning to whisper to one another as a low murmurs began to carry across the hall.

Alan’s cheeks reddened at the hushed chatter, but he nodded. “Well, yeah… I said I thought it was pretty incredible.” A nervous chuckle escaped his lips as he rubbed the back of his head and glanced away. “You really have a green thumb, you know? Even now…”

Mary’s severe expression did not abate. “That’s right. You told me I was special, Alan. You said that you thought I had a wonderful talent.” The fragile assortment of wood and paper in her hand cracked as she tightened her grip. “Do you know how important that was to me?”

Alan blinked, his smile falling and eyes widening as he finally seemed to realize his fiancée’s distress. “Mary…?”

“It does not matter. Not anymore. Not now that I am going to do what I should have long, long ago.” She stopped at the foot of the stage, grunting as she threw the fan to the ground and then lifted her arms to the stage’s threshold. Her face creased with exertion as she tried to pull herself up onto the raised platform.

Thinking quickly, Katarina hiked up her skirt and rushed to her side, offering the woman a gloved hand that Mary quickly took as the brunette hefted her onto the stage. The woman once again spared Katarina a small smile and a nod before returning her gaze to Alan, any trace of mirth immediately disappearing from her features.

Her heels clacked loud against the hard wood of the stage as she walked toward him – slowly now – with no fan to hide her clear displeasure.

Alan winced one of his eyes shut, clearly prepared for a condemnation. He held up his palm in a pleading gesture. “Mary… Please don’t hate me. I-I didn’t choose your engagement.” His eyes fell. “I know you resent me. Just… don’t hate me.”

Mary stopped mere inches from him, her face just a small gap from his. “You are beyond dense, Prince Alan. So, let me put this in terms even you will understand.”

She reached out her arms, grabbed his face, and pulled him forwards.

Blue eyes went wide as her lips touched his.

Hushed gasps resounded through the crowd as Katarina mirrored their response. Her hand clutched the pink fabric of the dress over her heart, feeling both warmth and envy as the two locked lips.

Mary held the position for only a moment – only long enough for her point to be made clear. Then, she released him, her own face reddening as she averted her eyes. “I love you, Alan.” Her voice was quiet now, carrying none of the fury it held mere moments ago. “I understand if you do not feel the same way, but…” she looked back at him, sharing a gentle smile “…for some reason, I finally have the courage to make you know.”

Alan did not fare much better than the woman before him. In fact, the red that enveloped his face was actually more luminous. “Mary…” He swallowed dryly, looking her over as if seeing her for the first time. “That is… really how you feel?”

Mary nodded. “If you do not feel the same… It will hurt, but it will be better than this torture, because that hurt will fade.” Her smile dropped. “I cannot bear to go on like this any longer. It is eating me away to watch you drift from me.” She spared a glance to Katarina, expression softening. “Even if… I think I may understand why you are now.”

Katarina blinked, not quite understanding that last part. Did Mary mean their friendship?

Regardless, the lady did not linger, turning back to her love as she raised her hand and caressed his cheek. “Just please… Tell me if you feel the same way.”

The fourth prince was stock still, blue eyes wide as his lips trembled. He seemed to finally see the woman in front of him – his eyes glancing across her as anxiety and trepidation filled his gaze. “I have long thought of you as a sister or friend, Mary…”

The woman’s expression fell.

“…but maybe that’s because I was afraid to love you.”

 Mary blinked, looking back up as hope reignited in her eyes.

The fourth prince ran a hand through his silver hair; his face still beet red as he glanced aside. “I… never thought someone as talented as you could like me, Mary. Not me, the second-rate prince…”

Mary tugged at his cheek, drawing his eyes back to her as she shook her head. “You dunce.” Her tone was light as tears began to flow down her cheeks. “I want you, Alan.”

He nodded, swallowing once more as he lowered a hand to her back and pressed her closer. “I… don’t know if I can love you the way you want.” He paused. “But I want to try being your fiancé.”

“That is all I ask, Alan.”

The two pressed lips together once more as the recital hall seemed to fade away.

Katarina wiped something from her eye.

———— ⟡ ————

Sienna recoils as the book begins to shake in her grip. She drops it immediately, extending a protective arm across Miss Maria as the two take several steps back.

The book careens to the floor, only to take on a luminous glow and halt just above the white marble. It lifts back into the air, pages turning as it begins to pour fourth an ever-more-luminous green light.

“D-Did it work?” Miss Maria asks behind her. “Was their desire fulfilled?”

“I do not know,” Sienna responds, glancing over her shoulder at the golden blonde, “but I think we should take a few more steps back.”

Miss Maria nods in agreement, and two quickly find their backs pressed against one of the ornate oak bookshelves.

The hair on the back of Sienna’s neck stands up as she feels the powerful magic build: A spell dissolving in a controlled but violent nature. The green light pouring from the fluttering pages grows more and more painful to look at, and she moves her hand above her head to shield her one open eye.

Then, with a thunderous clap, five figures erupt from the book’s pages; crying out as they land on the hard marble floor.

The enchanted book loses its glow as it gently drifts down to rest on the center of the table.

After a moment’s pause, both light and wind mage rush towards their groaning friend. “Lady Katarina!”

Katarina rubs her forehead as she sits up from the hard marble. She winces as her back straightens, only for her eyes to go wide as she surveys her surroundings. She blinks, craning her head around the private study room and the figures groaning at her sides, before looking back to the two blondes. “Is this… real?”

In spite of herself, Sienna finds herself grinning. “You are alright now, Lady Katarina.”

Miss Maria mirrors the expression. “We saw everything. You’re safe now.”

Lady Katarina sighs in relief as her eyes roll back in her head, and the both of them have to grab her arms to keep her from fainting back onto the floor. Instead, they help the woman to her feet. She sways as she struggles to regain her balance, rubbing her back before glaring at the book sitting atop their study table. Her lips curl into a snarl. “I am going to burn that thing.”

A hand drops on her shoulder, Prince Gerald leveling a similarly dark look at the tome. He lifts his other hand, opening his now-glowing palm as a small flame dances above his fingertips. “That makes two of us, Katarina.”

When their eyes cross, however, both their faces redden, and the prince’s flame extinguishes as they shuffle away from one another.

“So… grapes?” There’s a teasing tone to Prince Gerald’s voice.

Katarina wrings her hands together, jewelry clinking as she sways back and forth. She does not look him in the eye. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Prince.”

Sophia shields her eyes beneath her hair as she rises to full stature, looking very pointedly in a direction entirely away from the lady. “I… think I am feeling unwell today, Lady Katarina…” she forces a weak cough. “P-Perhaps we can study together some other time…”

Sienna and Miss Maria glance to each other upon hearing that. Miss Maria sports a particularly uncomfortable grimace.

Prince Gerald just looks at Lady Ascart without comprehension, tilting his head. He opens his mouth to ask a question, but one glance at the increasingly reddening brunette seems to make the desire for any clarification die on his lips.

“Mary… did you really mean that?”

All eyes suddenly turn to the other engaged pair, the two simply looking in each other’s eyes as they make no move to lift from the floor.

Lady Mary averts her gaze, biting her lip as she turns almost as red as Lady Katarina. “That book… it made me feel so…” she shifts on the floor, clutching her yellow dress. “Did you mean what you said too?”

“Yes.” Prince Alan replies with surprisingly little hesitation. “If that’s how you really feel about me… then I want to be a good fiancé for you, Mary.” He rolls his head against the marble, chuckling sadly as he flops on his back and stares up at the ceiling. “I don’t understand it, but… I want to.”

The brief, heartwarming exchange is interrupted by the sound of the oak doors to the study room flying open. To Sienna’s surprise, as she turns her head to see the figure that now stands in a combat stance, her foot held high after a kick, it’s…

“Anne!?” Lady Katarina cries.

The maid blinks her brown eyes, falling back into a reserved posture as she clasps her hands above her apron and bows. “Forgive me, My Lady, but Miss Dean said you were in danger.”

Lady Katarina forces a laugh, even as her expression remains distressed. “I was? You see, this book…” she gestures to the table, only to do a double-take as she realizes the red-leathered tome is no longer present at its center. “What!?”

All eyes follow to match her. Where that book of desire sat atop the octagonal table just a minute ago, now only empty air remains.

“No, that’s…” Lady Katarina looks at the empty space, before turning to back to her maid “…it was right there!” She gestures at the empty space frantically, as if that will bring the book back somehow.

The short-haired servant’s eyes narrow in skepticism, though it seems to wane as all the members of the room exhibit a similar disbelief at its sudden disappearance.

There is not much time for further questions, however, as a moment later a large assemblage of academy faculty and a few guards round a bookshelf in the main room behind her, led by one very out-of-breath black-haired maid.

Maria and Sienna do the majority of the explaining. Katarina has some trouble following it. Apparently, the book that trapped them is a pre-Sorciéran artifact called A Tale by the Name of Desire? Which is also meant to show those trapped in it their deepest desires? Katarina is not sure that’s right: It had to be her desires they were seeing. None of her friends would ever act that way normally, she’s certain.

As to the potential implications of accepting that explanation of events… she neatly tucks them away in the recesses of her mind. The whole thing had been a confusing mess. It was best not to dwell on them too closely. She must not have been as immune to the book’s magic as she thought.

Both her maids stand at her side, a distressed Isabel and a skeptical, yet clearly worried, Anne. In spite of their attention and questions, however, her closest and most personal companion seems increasingly interested in listening to the recounting of events that Sienna and Maria are giving as testimony to one of the guards. Katarina’s even caught Anne smirking a few times.

Katarina does not understand that. What about that ordeal is a laughing matter?

Still… She’s in no mood to pry. Even if she’s certain that the guards and staff mulling about the room will be asking for her testimony soon. After all, from what she’s overheard, she was the only one present in all the fantasies that played out.

Katarina never paid much mind to the rumors of mysterious pre-Sorciéran artifacts lying around the academy – the so-called school’s seven mysteries. She thinks she might pay the matter more mind now. Gods willing, she’ll never encounter any of the other six.

A familiar voice carries above the chatter of the now-packed study room. “Ah, good! You’re all safe!”

Katarina turns to see the student council president standing in the doorway; silver eyes filled with… something.

She barely hears the soft gasp that emerges from Isabel’s lips.

The red-haired boy turns to a guard, who in turn looks to his superior. A gray-haired man nods back, and the council president is let through. Nicol follows after him, immediately locking eyes with Sophia and rushing toward her even as his face remains stoic.

Katarina is a little surprised when Sirius walks up to her. “Are you alright, Lady Katarina? I heard from the faculty that you gave everyone quite a scare.”

She nods, brows furrowing in confusion even as she returns his polite smile. “I’m fine now. I told my maid to get help… ” She turns to gesture toward Isabel, except the maid is gone. Glancing around the room, Katarina realizes she cannot see her anywhere.

Sirius seems to interpret the gesture as referring to Anne, however, and politely nods his head at her trusted companion before looking back to Katarina. “Unfortunately, as you can imagine, this is almost certainly going to cause a lot of paperwork.”

Katarina sighs, her thoughts of the missing maid disappearing under the mountain of administration that is sure to ensue. Why had she wanted to get on the council again? “But practical exams are just around the corner,” she whines.

The redhead nods, offering a sympathetic smile. “Perhaps you can study in the council chamber instead?” He glances around the now-bustling private study room. “I doubt the Ministry of Magic is going to turn up anything, given the track record of this artifact, but I can’t imagine they won’t try and capture this book of yours. This entire library is probably going to be cordoned off for weeks.”

Katarina also doubts she’ll ever wish to return to here to study. She sighs, nodding her head. “It might come to that.” Even if she doesn’t, she’s sure there’ll be a pile of paperwork to go through almost the height of Sirius’s at the end of this all.

“I don’t think I’ve made you my tea, yet?” Lord Sirius taps a finger to his chin. “Perhaps I ought to.” Then, dropping his finger, he shakes his head sadly. “I think all of us are going to be in for a few very long nights.”

Katarina sighs. Some days, she wishes things had never become so complicated.

“I-I’d like to request a transfer back to Claes Manor, L-Lady Anne.”

Anne can hear the crickets chirping through the building’s thin walls as Anne blinks at the black-haired woman standing across from her, normally stoic features twisting in confusion as Miss Dean looks at her with a pleading green gaze. “What brought this on?”

Miss Dean glances down at her hands, wringing them before her apron. “I… no l-longer feel I can serve Lady Katarina effectively after the events of today.” She swallows, laughing nervously. “S-She was e-endangered on my watch…” she shakes her head, still not looking her in the eye “…I must take responsibility.”

Anne’s frown deepens. The woman is a terrible liar. Still… She’s not sure what she can say. “Well… I do not control personnel assignments. That would be the purview of the head maid, Joana.”

And Joana had stuck her with this girl to begin with, so Anne doubts she will reconsider now.

Still… news of these events would be making their way back to Claes Manor soon enough. If Isabel were to say such words to Duchess Claes…

No. She would not just be reassigned. She would be dismissed from her position; perhaps even ruined beyond that. Duchess Claes is not the sort of woman to normally engage in such matters of petty spite, but if a scapegoat were to so eagerly present herself and accept all blame…

“You cannot say that. It is not your fault.” If anything, it is hers. She should not have let her junior watch over Katarina that day – even if finding ways to maintain her fitness without arousing suspicion is proving quite the time-consuming endeavor.

Isabel shakes her head, glancing around the plain hall leading to the servants’ quarters as fear fills her green eyes. “L-Lady Anne, I cannot stay here!”

Anne’s brown eyes narrow. “There is something you are not telling me.”

Isabel’s green eyes sink back to the wooden floor. She says nothing, but that is answer enough all on its own.

Anne sighs. “We all have our secrets, I suppose.” She has consulted with one of Sorciér’s most wanted criminals to endure a brutal regimen of combat training, after all, and she doubts whatever Isabel is worrying over is as damning as that. “But you can’t leave. What would Lady Katarina think?”

Isabel looks up; blinking as she nervously grabs her own braid. “…I know.”

Anne’s tone softens as she shakes her head. “If you will not tell me what has caused you to be so certain you must leave, will you tell me if there is any way you can stay?”

“I… I think so.” She hesitates before nodding. “I just need to stay out of the way, L-Lady Anne…”

Chapter Text

The cobblestones clack beneath Katarina’s boots as she surveys the academy grounds. The bright sun shines down on the green landscapes packed with students of all stripes practicing their magic for the upcoming practical exams.

“My, this area is quite busy, isn’t it?”

She turns to the redheaded boy at her side, nodding. “I understand why the teachers asked us to keep an eye on them now.”

His silver eyes look her over before nodding in turn. “It is nice to finally have a chance to get to know you better, Lady Claes.”

She gives him a strange look as they continue down the path. “Pardon my rudeness, President, but… I was under the impression you disliked me.”

He lets out a little chuckle. “Oh, Lady Claes: You are the epitome of nobility. What reason would I have to dislike you?”

Her cheeks redden, and she forces her eyes back to the path. Part of her feels like it is an empty compliment, but… he has not glared at her in a while, has he? Has he even glared at all? She thought he had, but her appraisals of others have left… much to be desired.

“I must admit, I am curious about you as well, President.”

His silver eyes take on a strange light as he looks her over. “Oh? What would you like to know, Lady Claes?”

It is a hard question to decide on, though not for any lack of curiosity on Katarina’s part. Rather… she knows so little about Sirius that it’s hard to even figure where to begin. “You’re very diligent, President,” she eventually settles on. “I see you in the council chambers every time I enter, and it is my understanding that you placed above Nicol in the prior year’s achievement tests.” She pauses, pursing her lips. “What drives you to be so diligent? You are the son of a prominent Marquis – you do not need to work so hard.”

His brown coat swishes with each step he takes. “Well, I could ask the same of you, Lady Claes. You are a ducal daughter and the future wife of a prince: Your social station is only a hair’s breadth beneath actual royalty. Yet, if I am to understand, you have shown a previously uncharacteristic zeal to study and better yourself.” A gentle smile parts his lips. “I am curious why you would put so much effort into it. Are you aiming to be scouted by the Ministry of Magic?”

She purses her lips, shaking her head as she glances over her shoulder. “The thought had not occurred to me until now.”

“Come now, Lady Claes! There is no need to be modest.”

“I am serious.” She looks straight ahead, past a tree as a nobleman in a tan vest sweeps droplets of water through the air above him. The academy, in many ways, functions as an extension of the Ministry’s research of magic, and highly-achieving students – especially those selected for the council – are usually given offers to join at graduation.

It is a very odd feeling to realize that category includes her. She isn’t sure what to make of it.

Sirius frowns a bit as he looks up at her, arching a brow as he scrutinizes her expression. “Then… there is something else motivating you?”

“Yes.” She does not elaborate further as she turns to him with a skeptical gaze. “What about you, Lord Sirius? You have not answered my question.”

He lets out a breath of air, shaking his head as the gentle smile returns to his lips. “I suppose I am similar in that regard, Lady Claes: I have my own goals to work toward.”

She thinks about that for a moment. Marquis Dieke – Sirius’ father – has a rather… dreadful reputation, if rumors are anything to go by. To say nothing of the other whispered scandals the Dieke family are implicated in… even by the low standards of noblemen, Marquis Dieke is a notorious lech. Yet the president himself is quite adored by the girls of the academy. While part of it must be his admittedly handsome looks… “Forgive me if this is personal, President, but… is it because of your parents?”

Sirius’ silver eyes widen at her remark, and he freezes in place. Then he smiles, closing his eyes and shaking his head as he brings a hand to his forehead. “Oh, I continue to underestimate you, Lady Claes!” There’s an odd bitterness to his tone as he says it, but a smile remains on his lips when his laughter finally calms. “I suppose you can say that, yes.”

Katarina places a hand on her hip as she stops walking and turns to face him. “I can understand: You are not at all like how the Marquis was described to me.”

He gives her a strange look at that: All smiles, but darkness in his eyes. Still, it lasts only a moment before he makes a dismissive gesture. “Really, Lady Claes, Father is hardly ever home to bother me in the first place!”

He puts an odd emphasis on the word, but moves to the next topic before Katarina can process it.

“You do remind me quite strongly of Mother, though.” He closes his eyes, offering a bright grin. “Although, to be quite honest, I think even a noblewoman of her standing would pale before your aptitude, Lady Claes!”

She blinks at that, glancing around the crowded greenery before looking back to the boy ahead of her. “You are speaking of me?”

He nods, still not opening his eyes. “Oh, yes! You are a very formidable noblewoman, Lady Claes! I don’t think I’ve ever met someone quite as charismatic as you!”

Her cheeks flush. “Well… thank you, Lord Sirius.”

There’s a period of silence as her focus turns to the exertions of the students surrounding them. She crosses her arms as she focuses on the many mages surrounding the two of them, keeping an eye out for signs of anyone losing control of their magic.

It does not take long before someone does just that.

A scream yells out as the vest-wearing male water mage from earlier waves his glowing palm, staring it in fear as the previously sedate water surrounding him begins to churn in a torrential current. Katarina and Sirius glance at each other before sprinting towards him.

The other students drop their books and rush away in a panic; noblewoman with hiked skirts brushing past them. Katarina realizes a few moments too late that it may have been wiser for her to follow them and find help – she does not have powerful enough magic to do anything on her own.

Unfortunately, the realization only comes to her as a column of water rushes toward her face.

She reaches beneath her skirt, trying to find the sword sheathed to her hip to withdraw and block the attack with. Yet her reaction comes far too late, and Katarina winces as she prepares for the impact.

The impact never comes.

When she opens her eyes, she finds Alan and Mary standing on the other side of the panicked nobleman; their extended palms glowing brightly as they hold back the thrashing ring of liquid. The vest-wearing nobleman – now cowering in the grass beside his discarded spell book – looks up in shock as his own palms continue to glow.

“H-Hey,” Alan says, forcing a smile at the man. “It’s alright. Remember what you were taught in your magic control lectures, yeah?”

Mary nods, offering a smile to her fiancé even as the exertion summons sweat to her forehead.

The mage in the center of the waters seems to calm, and he closes his eyes as his forehead wrinkles with thought. His palms extinguish as he lets out a deep breath, and the thrashing water immediate returns to a sedate state.

Alan glances to Mary, and copper-haired woman nods as he drops his palms. Mary lifts her own above her head, summoning the water into a globe between her hands before banishing it as she claps them together. The two let out sighs of their own as they slump over.

“S-Sorry,” the vest-wearing nobleman stutters, face red as he rises to full height. “I just… lost control.”

Katarina returns her hands to her side, frowning at the brown-eyed man as she leans toward him. “You almost hit me, you know.”

He pales, quickly launching into a bow. “F-Forgive me, Lady Claes!”

She crosses her arms, clicking her tongue as she shakes her head. “You are lucky that Alan and Mary were here.” She turns to Sirius. “I believe an incident like this only merits a warning, yes?”

“There was no injury, so I believe so.” The president turns to the nobleman with a smile. “I would recommend you very thoroughly review your control techniques before you try another spell like that.”

Alan and Mary concur, and the bashful nobleman – though very evidently confused at Katarina’s lack of fury – quickly nods and picks up his now dirt-covered spellbook before striding towards one of the buildings, muttering a quiet thank you under his breath as he passes her.

“It is good to see you, Lady Katarina!”

Katarina wrenches her gaze back to Mary, finding the woman wearing a radiant smile aimed directly at her as she grasps Alan’s hand. “I-It is good to see you as well, Mary.”

“Very fortuitous timing, councilors!” Sirius offers them a grin. “I was going to try and use my wind magic to deflect the attack, but I am not sure I would have been able to react quickly enough.”

“That’s the second one Mary and I have run into today.” Alan shakes his head. “You too?”

“That was our first,” Sirius replies.

“I guess it’s the stress of the practical examination approaching?” Katarina frowns, crossing her arms. “I do not struggle with magical control, but… that is what I have heard.”

“Well… it certainly makes sense why the teachers asked us to look after things now!” Mary replies, though her grin is strained as she glances at the students returning back to their spell training around them.

“Hey, anything to get us out of that council room filling out paperwork!” Alan rubs the back of head, running his hand through his silver hair. “And I thought you had it bad, Sirius!”

“I’m fairly certain the faculty are just passing on their responsibilities to us,” Katarina mutters.

Even Sirius’ smile strains a bit at that.

Mary turns back to her, expression immediately lightening as her auburn eyes meet her own. “Lady Katarina, I do want to thank you for the other day.” She clasps her hands together, closing her eyes as a wide grin splits her lips. “Alan has been such a dear as of late!”

The fourth prince in mention goes red, laughing awkwardly as he looks away. “Come on, Mary… You don’t need to make a big deal of it…”

When her eyes open again, she looks up to him with a smug grin, grasping his arm as she presses herself into his side. “Oh? That is not what you told me last night~”

Katarina’s eyes go wide as her own cheeks blaze. Is Mary implying—?

“Garden! In the garden, Mary!” Alan sighs, shaking his blushing head as he buries it in his hands. “You and I just took a late-night stroll to talk things out!”

The elegant lady lifts a hand to her mouth as she laughs. “Can you blame me for teasing you when your reactions are so adorable?” She backs off from him as she turns to Katarina, wearing a smirk. “You know, he gets so flustered near me now. It’s like that book lit a flame!”

“I just didn’t think about you that way before…” Alan replies, still shielding his face.

Katarina’s cheeks are still red as she shakes her head and regains her focus. “Well, I appreciate the thanks, Mary… but why are you thanking me?” She tilts her head. “It’s not like any of that was intentional.” Frankly, if it had been, she doubts she would be receiving thanks at all.

Mary’s red hair drapes across her shoulders as she shakes her head. “What you said to me the other night…” her own cheeks redden as she clasps her hands “…I think that’s why the book gave me that courage: You made me realize what I really wanted to do!”

Katarina smiles… but it confuses her. Can her words really have such an impact on others? “I just told you what I thought, Mary.”

“I know, Lady Katarina.” Her grin somehow goes even wider. “That’s why I know you and I are going to be the best of friends!”

Katarina momentarily loses all semblance of composure. “E-Eh!?”

Mary steps forward, taking Katarina’s arm in her delicate hands. “I mean it! I want to understand you better, Lady Katarina! I know we haven’t been friends for long at all but I…” her blush intensifies “…I already feel so happy just being around you! It must be a sign!”

As Katarina struggles to comprehend the situation unfolding before her, Sirius coughs loudly. “Ahem… Perhaps I should go on without you all? It appears you are… busy, at the moment.”

Mary seems to realize something, and shakes her head as she turns to him. “Ah…  My apologies, Lord Sirius!” She is once again the composed, elegant noble lady as she lets go of Katarina’s arm and returns to Alan’s side – though the wide smile never leaves her lips. “We will simply have to catch up later, Lady Katarina!”

Katarina nods blankly, still recovering from the woman’s floral perfume and gentle touch.

Alan sighs, looking up from his hands as his blush lessens. “See you later, you two.” Then he turns to Mary and some of the pink returns to his face as he extends his arm. “D-Darling…?”

Mary eagerly accepts his grip, offering him a wide grin before looking back to Katarina and giving her one last wave.

Sirius stares at them for a long while as they move off to another part of the grounds. He is quiet for a long time before he turns to Katarina. “Yes… let us resume our work, Lady Claes.”

Katarina can’t quite tell what’s going on in those silver eyes.

Katarina looks at the stack of paperwork sitting on the table at her side, sighing as she reaches to the top and withdraws another sheet. Her action is mirrored by the other councilors sitting in their places around her. When Sirius said that there would be a mountain of paperwork to go in the aftermath of the incident: He meant it.

Katarina is surprised when she sees a hand reach around her shoulder, sliding a teacup on a saucer between her elbow and the much smaller ‘forms completed’ pile. She looks over her shoulder, meeting Sirius’s silver eyes as he offers her a gentle smile.

“Here you are, Lady Claes. Some tea to soothe your nerves.”

She places her quill down, offering a genuine smile at the excuse to turn her attention away from the droll paperwork. “Thank you, President.” She reaches for the teacup, taking it gently in her gloved hand as she lifts it to her lips.

The flavor of his tea is very good. She lets it linger in her mouth, savoring the gentle flavor before swallowing. She lifts the teacup from her lips, opening her mouth to say as much to him…

…only to close it again and frown. The taste is familiar. Not exactly the same, but familiar. She lifts the teacup up to her eyes, examining the dark liquid inside it.

“Is something wrong, Lady Claes?” President Sirius is all smiles, though he cocks a brow at her reaction.

“Not at all, Lord Sirius.” Katarina shakes her head, returning a smile to her lips. “Your tea simply has a familiar flavor. It is quite delectable.” Katarina usually prefers the sharp bite of Anne’s brew… but a gentle flavor like this is perfect for stressful days.

“Really?” He seems intrigued, but shakes his head. “Regardless, I do hope you enjoy it, Lady Claes.”

“Thank you, President.” She offers him a genuine smile.

Sirius steps away from her side, moving to the smaller table at the side of the student council chamber to pour another cup. A moment later, Maria takes his spot, holding her usual thatched picnic basket as she reaches inside and deposits a delicately-wrapped treat beside her tea saucer. “Here you are, Lady Katarina!” She beams, flashing a heart-melting smile as she tilts her head. “I had to ask Lady Sienna what ‘panforte’ was, but I think I did a good job making it!”

Katarina tries not to spill any of the tea as she places the teacup back on its saucer and scoops up the wrapped treat in her hands. She most definitely does not drool as her gloved fingers unwrap the paper surrounding the frosted delicacy, nor does she make indecent sounds as the rich treat explodes in a perfect mixture of sweet and spicy as she chews it.

Therefore, the council members staring at her do so for no particular reason.

Gerald offers a wry smile from the side, looking over his significantly shorter pile of paperwork to-do. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You are… enjoying that quite a bit, Katarina…”

She fans herself, eyes watering as she savors every mote of taste before swallowing it down. “So good!”

Maria laughs, closing her eyes as her cheeks redden. “I take it you like it, Lady Katarina?”

“Yes! Absolutely! Thank you!”

Then, Maria says four words that test Katarina’s strength of will in a way no string of words has ever done before: “Would you like another?”

She purses her lips shut, gritting her teeth as she bites down on the instinctive answer that threatens to escape her mouth’s confines. “M-Maybe later,” she manages to force out.

Maria’s golden hair bobs as she laughs again. “Understood, Lady Katarina. Just let me know if you change your mind!” Her blue eyes open as she reaches over and takes the discarded wrapper away. Then, she looks up around the room. “Would anyone else like one?”

A chorus of affirmations erupts around the table. Katarina can pick out the voices of Alan, Mary, Sophia, and – somewhat surprisingly – Nicol.

A moment later, Gerald sighs, offering a wry smile as he faces Maria. “Oh, alright… I will take one too. If you would allow me, Maria.”

The ribbon tying back her golden hair bounces as she offers another nod. “Of course!”

It is a strange feeling as Katarina returns her focus to the forms. It was not long ago that the council chambers were quiet and full of conflict, but now, things seem much more jovial and happy. Certainly, some of that change has come at the expense of their former councilman, but not all of it. For some reason, it feels like everyone is simply getting along much better now.

Perhaps it is Maria’s sweets? She feels as though that must be it.

She finds it easier to focus on shrinking her stack of to-do items as the afternoon drags on. For some reason, Katarina finds a bit of sugar helps her attention, though she’s not sure why. Still, the combination of Sirius’s gentle tea and Maria’s sweet treats produces a flavor combination that is downright heavenly… and one that severely tests her will to consume the small portions required to retain her slim waist.

By the time she finally finishes her share of paperwork, the orange sky is bright through the council chamber windows. She is last, of course, but finds she oddly doesn’t mind much as her attention returns to the councilors around her.

Alan and Mary are the highlight, of course: The two lovebirds utterly lost in one another’s eyes as they sit next to each other and smile. Katarina resists the urge to squeal at their cuteness, instead offering a wide grin.

Sophia just hides her face behind her stack of completed paperwork as Katarina’s gaze shifts to her.

Katarina’s grin falls. “Sophia… Are you upset with me? I notice you’ve been avoiding me all day.”

Red eyes peek out from behind the stack as she shakes her head no. “I-I’m fine. J-Just…” She covers her face as her cheeks go red. “Oh, Lady Katarina, I’m so sorry! That book just made me feel so…” her words devolve into a high-pitched squeal as she buries her face in her lap, shaking her head.

Her brother lays a hand on her shoulder, patting her shoulder as Sophia groans in embarrassment.

Katarina sighs. “That is hardly your fault, Sophia. As you said, the book made you act that way.”

“I know,” her muffled voice replies, “but still…”

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about, Lady Sophia.” Maria stands at the side of the table, picnic basket in her arm as she deposits a treat before the hunched-over girl. “I don’t think Lady Katarina quite understands the… situation as you do.”

Katarina frowns at that, looking up at Maria in offense as the golden blonde simply returns a guilty smile. “What do you mean?”

Everyone suddenly finds every excuse to avoid looking her in the eye.

“We all did things we are not proud of, Sophia,” Alan adds, forcing a grin as he rubs the back of his head.

Katarina blinks, not quite recalling what exactly she did that was shameful. “Again: What do you mean?”

Alan goes even redder as he hazards a glance at her. “Um… A-Are your shoulders so stiff in real life, too?”

Now it is Katarina’s turn to hide her head behind her stacked paperwork. “Never-mind. I do not wish to discuss this topic any further.”

Her cheeks burn as a bout of embarrassed laughter erupts around her.

“See, Lady Sophia? We all did things we are not proud of,” Mary’s voice continues. “Even someone as good-natured as Lady Katarina can attest to that.”

When Katarina works up the courage to look up from behind her stack of paperwork, the Ascart’s red eyes are tearful as she looks around the room. “You all are so nice…” she sniffles a bit, but a grin erupts across her lips as she lifts a sleeve to her face. “T-Thanks…”

Only Sirius does not smile as the conversation carries on.

As the door shuts after the last of the councilors file out of the room, the one they all call Sirius is left alone with his thoughts.

He has completely misjudged Lady Katerina Claes. She is a threat: A dire threat. She has monopolized the council and turned it into her own personal instrument of power. The others either do not know or do not care that they are being used to her ends. She’s already eliminated the only voice opposed to her, and now with his investigation clearly dead in the water, she’s also eliminated the only threat to her position.

He would be impressed… if he wasn’t so angry.

You did not take her seriously, some part of him whispers. That was a mistake. You could have dispatched her easily had you acted earlier.

In the past, he would have laughed. Katarina Claes? Taking her seriously? The woman had clearly been on a path to her own destruction without his ‘help.’ He had been looking forward to watching such a prime example of nobility enjoy the fruits of her own labor.

Now, though…

Your ignorance is no excuse. Even when you underestimated her, what did you do? Make a uniform she wore uncomfortable? Astounding planning to confirm her distrust.

He hadn’t meant to do that. One of the uniforms was improperly enchanted, and when he found out, he simply set it aside for her. It shouldn’t have mattered.

But it does matter, because she is not what she pretends to be. You saw how she placed first on the academic ratings that gave her a position on this very council, where she has outmaneuvered you time and time again. Even today, she almost perceived the target of your ire.

He frowns. His thoughts are right. Lady Claes missed the mark by assuming the man he was forced to call ‘Father’ was the true target of his hatred… but only just.

What’s more, consider how easily she has seduced these fools. To what lengths do you think they would go to defend her? They are completely loyal to her, and her alone.

His spine chills. The thought of what they would do to him if they knew his true intentions is… unpleasant.

You have done well to allay her suspicions, but you must accept that her façade of ignorance has been a deception from the start. The woman you see now… she is the true Katarina Claes.

His frown darkens. His thoughts are harsh, but fair. He has much experience projecting a false persona: Why has it taken him so long to consider the possibility that another would do the same?

Because this is not really about Lady Claes, is it? This is about her.

The one they call Sirius grits his teeth, gripping the underside of the council table as tendrils of darkness slither out from him. Closing his eyes, he takes a single, shuddering breath.

His thoughts are right: He’s seen that woman in her since they first met. That arrogant smile… the way she carries herself as she walks… It infuriates him to see her escape consequences again and again. Worse, to see Miss Campbell’s gaze brighten as she sees her… to see Nicol’s sadness weaken in his eyes…

Does she even realize she’s taking everything from him?

It matters not. She is not a ‘challenge’ you can neglect: You cannot take her downfall for granted any longer.

When the one they call Sirius opens his eyes again, the shadows retract into him. “No. I cannot.”

Chapter Text

The large stone ruin towers above the surrounding forest, casting long shadows in the morning sun. Katarina stiffens in her black tunic, swallowing gently as she looks up at its mossy stones.

“It’ll be alright, Lady Katarina,” Sophia says, offering a gentle smile. Her long, white hair is done up in an elegant bun and ponytail.

Katarina sighs, offering a smile before turning back to the ruin’s gate. Almost instinctually, she moves to bat away a lock of her hair, only to encounter air as she remembers too late that she herself is wearing a ponytail. Mobility is critical for this exam, after all.

Still… she feels almost naked. Her jeweled earrings are gone, as well as her white gloves and golden bracelets. The only thing she’s kept of her usual attire is the blue ribbon pinning back her hair – it is, after all, her favorite.

There is a modest assortment of students milling around the mossy and cracked stone courtyard of the ruin. It is far from the entire population of the academy since the exams are conducted in groups based on academic performance, but it is still a sizeable amount.

Her fellow student council members are nearby, as well as Keith and Sienna. It’s strange to realize that she and all her friends are doing well enough academically to be grouped in one place. Last time, she’d been in one of the later groups to enter, given that her performance was slightly below-average.

“So, this is the testing ground?” Alan shifts in his stance, crossing his arms at the towering stone construction. “They weren’t kidding about taking us to the ruins, huh?”

Mary looks up at him, forcing a smile as her copper ponytail sways in the wind. “It will be fine, Alan!” Yet she cannot hide the bead of sweat on her forehead.

They’re all in their black tunics, of course: They’re the same military style they wore earlier that year, when their council duties had taken them to the ruins elsewhere on the academy grounds. From what Katarina gathers from her Sorciéran History lectures, the whole practical examination is a remnant of the once-comprehensive military training the Sorciér Academy of Magic conducted in the past. Not that the laws on mage conscription have ever been repealed…

“One great thing about this uniform is I that I can stand as long in the sun as I want while I’m wearing it!” Sophia smiles, swishing the black skirt of her uniform as she spins in a circle. “No shade needed!”

“At least mine has the proper enchantments this time,” Katarina mutters. She had made certain of it, given what happened last time she wore one of these.

Still, as much as Katarina misses the clinking of her jewelry and the swishing of her dress… it’s hard to say these outfits don’t look flattering. Seeing the way Sophia moves in the outfit, she’s forced to admit that black skirts over dark green stockings and military boots is a surprisingly flattering combination…

It’s only when Gerald lays a hand on her shoulder that Katarina’s cheeks warm as she realizes she may have been staring at Sophia’s legs a little too intensely. She slowly cranes her neck towards the man at her side, hoping against hope that his timing is a coincidence.

The strained smile he flashes her seems to confirm it is not. Still, if he has gotten the wrong idea, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he just says, “Katarina: Stay by my side once we’re in the ruins, alright?”

She nods, though the warmth in her cheeks does not fade as she looks him over as well. There is most certainly some resizing magic in these uniforms, because despite the lack of any tailoring, his fit is immaculate.

She nods blankly, trying to focus on the task ahead of them instead of… that.

“Oh, Lady Katarina! Before we go in…” Mary steps between them, grabbing Katarina’s hands as she flashes a smile and wrenches Katarina’s gaze back to eye level. “I know we’re on different teams, but I want to wish you good luck!”

Katarina shakes her head and returns the smile. “Good luck to you too, Mary! I know you’ll do well!”

“I am confused, though…” Maria’s gentle voice comes from Katarina’s side. Katarina turns to her, finding the blonde’s brows creased as she looks to the others with a troubled expression. “If Lady Mary, Lady Sophia, and Lady Sienna are on different teams than Prince Alan, Prince Gerald, Lady Katarina, and I… won’t we all be competing?”

Sienna moves to her side, brushing her own short ponytail as she shakes her head. “It’s not entirely competitive, Miss Maria. They will not penalize you unless your team performs extremely poorly.”

Katarina nods. “The first team to get retrieve the crystal gets a load of extra credit, but as long as you make an effort to find it and don’t get trapped, stuck, or injured, the exam is mostly graded as a pass/fail.”

The others turn to her with confused expressions.

“Crystal?” Alan’s brow furrows. “What do you mean about a crystal?”

Katarina freezes, realizing a moment too late that she’s just revealed some of her foreknowledge. Still, it’s not like it’s a secret… “That’s probably what they’ll have us looking for,” she eventually replies. “Just trust me on this.”

Everyone else shrugs after a moment, probably deciding it’s too much effort to question her further.

Though Maria still arches a brow as she looks between Katarina and Sienna. “…Injured?”

Somewhat fortuitously, it is at this moment that the headmaster’s voice begins booming from the front of the ruins’ entrance.

“Attention, students of the Sorciér Academy of Magic!”

Almost at once, everyone in the group – as well as the throngs of students surrounding them – stiffen and turn to face the white-haired man.

“You are the first group to undergo the practical examination today. It will consist of exploring these pre-Sorciéran ruins.” His deep voice booms with unnatural clarity; clearly enhanced by wind magic. “Legend states that a great mage once lived within these walls, and imbued a crystal with magical power. You have all been divided into four-person teams to that end. The team that brings it back here first will pass by default and receive extra credit. The rest of you will be judged by your effort and performance.”

“They’re making this sound like some kind of expedition…” Maria whispers.

Katarina hazards a quick glance to her side, shaking her head. “They do this every year: It’s clearly just some story…”

“Do not take this task lightly!”

Everyone’s expressions snap back to the headmaster as he continues.

“The ruins are complex and labyrinthine. There are traps and dangers inside. If you do not pay attention, or do not give this task your all…” he pauses, sweeping his gaze across the crowd “…we cannot guarantee your safety.”

 An explosion of hushed whispers erupts from the assembly of students.

“Traps!?” Maria’s face pales.

Sophia just nods. “Apparently, these ruins once housed a great mage’s enchanted tools. The ruin was built to defend them from thieves…”

“If you believe what they’re saying,” Sienna cautions.

Katarina just stares straight ahead, glaring past the bearded headmaster and looking at the stone structure behind him. She is not going to fall for this place’s stupid tricks again.

“The teachers and second-year students behind me are here to serve as aides. They will monitor your progress and render assistance if required.” The headmaster points to the figures flanking him on both sides. “Be warned: Relying on their involvement will count against your score.”

Lord Sirius offers a trademark gentle smile. Nicol just stares and nods. Professors Babcock and Finnelan nod as well.

“Demonstrate your command of your magic while employing the skills you have learned, and you will succeed!” The headmaster lets the statement linger before continuing. “Now, each team may proceed to their chosen entrance!”

The assembly of students erupts into panicked whispers as everyone turns to one another. Maria is no exception, the normally vibrant girl looking unusually sickly as she pales. “They’re… really just throwing us in there?”

“It will be fine, I’m sure!” Mary’s smile does not reach her eyes. “I’ve never heard of anyone being hurt here…”

“Neither have I,” Sienna concurs, though the wind mage is unable to even force a smile.

Alan sighs, looking among the others before turning to his fiancée. “Hey Mary? Looks like this is goodbye for now.”

The copper-haired noblewoman sighs in turn, looking back to Alan with a sad smile. “Good luck out there, Alan!”

His cheeks turn pink. “You too, okay?”

Mary wraps Alan in a hug, and his blush only deepens.

“Oh, Lady Katarina,” Sophia says. “Good luck to you as well!”

Katarina turns to face the girl, smiling. “I know you’ll do fine, Sophia. Take care of Mary and Sienna for me, okay?”

That earns a laugh from behind Katarina’s back. “I will also be fine, Lady Katarina,” Sienna says, “…but thank you.”

Alan looks to his brother. “Hey, Gerald?”

The third prince stiffens, looking over his shoulder. “Hm?”

Alan spares one last glance toward Mary before stepping forward, extending a hand to Gerald as he looks him in the eye. “Let’s do our best together, okay?”

Gerald stares at him for a moment before grasping his brother’s hand. He shakes it firmly as a small smile crosses his lips. “Let us do exactly that.”

Katarina smiles, though it falls as she turns away and looks for one particular face in the crowd. There is one last person she needs to talk to…

“Keith!”

His dark blue eyes widen and then narrow as Katarina steps toward him. “What do you want?”

“You’ll be working with my friends, won’t you? You resigned from the council, but the test groups are still based on your achievement test grades.” She stops a fair distance away from him, trying to give him space while still being close enough to speak without raising her voice. “I know you still have a feud with me, but please do not treat Sienna, Sophia, or Mary poorly.”

He scoffs, brushing a hand through his dark blond hair as he glares. “I am not you, Katarina: I don’t indulge in pointless cruelty.”

She pouts, crossing her arms. “Do you know that we don’t always have to fight when we talk?”

“Then leave me alone,” he replies, looking away. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Fine, I will. But let me say one last thing.” Katarina sighs, steeling herself as she forces a smile. “Good luck on the test, Keith.”

Her only reply is Keith’s frigid blue glare.

Flames dance in the sconces lining the ancient stone walls as Katarina breathes in the musty air. Maria follows closely behind, followed by Alan and Gerald in turn.

Katarina feels the weight of the satchel strapped against her shoulder and torso with each step, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up as she tries to recall where exactly she is inside the ruins… and what traps she needs to be wary of triggering.

It is more difficult than she anticipated.

The problem is that all the halls look the same: There are no landmarks to guide her. She’s done her best to retrace her steps so far, but even so… She is not sure she is in the vicinity of her memories. The headmaster is right to call it a labyrinth.

Somewhat fittingly, it is as she takes her next step that the stone beneath her sinks into the floor and clicks.

Her anxiety spikes as she remembers exactly what this hallway is.

Without even looking, she spins on her heel, drawing her gaze across the others as her eyes widen. “Run!” she shouts, before taking off in a sprint.

The others hesitate for a moment… but only until they hear the low rumble of the boulder that is most certainly chasing after them. Very quickly, their footfalls join hers, and the four are racing back to the junction.

In spite her head start, Katarina soon finds herself falling behind the others. Her sword training with Gerald has greatly improved her fitness… but she is still far from athletic, and her legs burn as she tries to match their pace.

Gerald looks over his shoulder, eyes widening as the rumbling grows louder behind Katarina, and falls back to her side. “Hang on,” he says, before grabbing her by the hips and pulling her up between his arms. Despite the added weight, he quickly resumes his prior speed, catching up to Alan and Maria as they round the corner of the junction.

A moment later, the boulder shakes the ruins as it slams into the wall of the junction behind them.

Everyone involved lets out a breath of air before resuming their heavy breathing, wiping sweat from their brows as they catch their breath.

As Katarina’s fear fades, she realizes the position she is currently in, and her cheeks burst into an inferno as she looks up at the blond prince. “Gerald…”

He flashes a smile, even as sweat runs down his forehead. “Are you alright, Katarina?”

She nods. “Y-Yes…”

“I suppose… we will need to… train more…” he chuckles between breath. After a moment, he gently puts her down.

Katarina steadies herself against a wall as she too catches her breath; suddenly feeling even more dizzy than before.

“What was that?!” Alan exclaims after some time. His blue eyes are irate as he looks to the others and gestures to the boulder now embedded in the junction behind them. “We could have died just now!”

“M-Maybe it was some sort of trick?” Maria offers, though she doesn’t seem to believe her own words.

“I have no idea… how this works,” Katarina admits. “B-But I’ve never heard of anyone being injured here…”

“Illusion or not, it is obscene.” Gerald retains a smile, though his eyes are cold. “Perhaps I will have words with Father about the academy’s curriculum…”

“Oh, count me in on that,” Alan agrees. “When we get out of here…” His words trail off as he looks back to the boulder, suddenly realizing the way they’d come from is blocked. He turns to Katarina, forcing a small smile. “I, uh… don’t suppose you can use your earth magic to move that, can you?”

Katarina glances over her shoulder before looking back to him and shaking her head. “Perhaps if Keith were here…”

Alan groans, closing his eyes as he presses his head into the stone wall. “Fantastic. So, the only way out is to go deeper into this death trap…”

“We need to pass the exam anyway, Alan,” Maria says, though her expression is troubled as she looks to him. “I can heal you all, so… let’s just stay close, okay?”

Katarina sighs, crossing her arms as she faces Maria. “Yes, let’s do our best to find that crystal and leave this wretched place.”

As the group nods and begins moving down the only corridor now available to them, Katarina thinks hard about her next steps.

Chairman Katarina strokes her mustache before slamming down her gavel. “I now call to order this meeting of the Katarina Claes Death Avoidance Committee!”

The various aspects of Katarina Claes sit around the wooden table of the innermost chamber of her mind, their muttering carrying into the metaphorical air as they strategize.

One aspect pushes the glasses sitting atop her nose, crossing her arms as she surveys her peers. “Calm down all of you,” says Studious Katarina. “We have done this before. There is no need to fear.”

Timid Katarina shakes her head. “W-We have every reason to fear! Did you not just see that boulder slam into the wall?!”

“We almost got flattened like a pancake!” Angry Katarina slams a gloved fist into the table, rising to her feet as she glares at the others. “First the faculty foist all their responsibilities onto us, and now they risk our lives too?!”

“Calm yourself.” Haughty Katarina’s blue eyes are frigid as she glares at the personality aspect, unfurling a fan to cover her frown. “Do you think that this test is actually what it seems? Perhaps we believed the stories the staff told us in our prior life, but there is no reason to believe them now.”

“I agree. If the surroundings were truly as dangerous as they seemed… we would not have been the only casualty of the school year in our past life.” Studious Katarina shifts in her seat, and her glasses reflect bright white light. “Clearly, there is illusion at work.”

Angry Katarina is less than convinced. “Do you mean to tell me that the boulder that just chased us down the hall was false?” Her lips curl into a snarl. “Why don’t we test that with the other traps too? Perhaps our third life will at least be less stupid!”

“It is reasonable to assume some manner of trickery is at play given the lack of injury among the student body,” Councilman Katarina interjects, causing all eyes to turn to her. “However, it is also reasonable to assume that all dangers are real unless proven otherwise.” She frowns, again stroking the mustache above her lips. “Unless any of you would rather hope that whatever force which saved us from our first death saves us yet again?”

A general mutter of agreement comes from the assembled personality aspects, though some are more reluctant than others. Angry Katarina grimaces, but eventually returns to her seat.

Stressed Katarina grips her forehead, an ever-present bulging vein pulsing as she does. “So, if I understand correctly… We are going deeper into this ruin with no real plan?”

“There is a plan,” Studious Katarina protests. “We just need to find the magic crystal!”

“We didn’t find the magic crystal last time,” Angry Katarina points out. “We have absolutely no idea where it is!”

“We have our friends!” Excitable Katarina grins. “We’re taking the test with them this time, and they’re all really smart, so I bet they’ll be able to!”

“I-I hope we don’t disappoint them…” Timid Katarina wrings her wrists as she glances anxiously around the mental chambers. “E-Even though we work so hard… They’re all very difficult to keep up with…”

Depressed Katarina plants her face into the wooden table, rolling her head against the surface as her muffled voice says, “I wish Sienna was with us right now… She’d know what to do…”

Haughty Katarina scoffs, still hiding her lips behind her dark blue fan as she surveys the room. “When have we become so… pitiful?” She makes a distasteful gesture with her free hand as she rolls blue eyes. “We are Katarina Claes, are we not?” Her eyes crease with glee. “We have an advantage that no-one else does!”

Studious Katarina mirrors the grin, her eyes still obscured by the glint of her glasses. “Indeed. We may not know exactly where the crystal is, but we know where it is not located. We can find it, and if we do so quickly, this will be an excellent opportunity to impress everyone.”

Angry Katarina opens a single eye. “If you two don’t get us all killed by trying to rush through, that is.” Her eye narrows. “Not that you’ve been listening much to the rest of us lately, anyway…”

“They’re listening to me more!” Excitable Katarina hops from her seat. “And I think this is a great plan!”

“You always think our plans are great,” Stressed Katarina mutters. “Again: We have no idea where the crystal is!”

A gavel slams into a block. “If you are not satisfied with the plan, I would like to hear your alternative,” Chairman Katarina replies.

The personality aspect just glares back at her, nursing her pulsing forehead as she groans.

“Then, hearing no objections, the path forward is decided: We will use our foreknowledge to locate the magic crystal, pass the exam, and impress our friends.” She slams the gavel down once more. “Meeting adjourned!”

Gerald frowns as Katarina once again takes the lead, despite his protests. It is not that he does not trust her to take point… Rather, he would much rather be out front instead – at least that way he would take the brunt of whatever attacks this horrid ruin unleashes on them.

Alan arches a brow as he glances over his shoulder. “You’re worried about Katarina, huh?” His voice is just quiet enough for only the two of them to hear.

He nods. There is no point denying it. It must be clear on his face.

Alan chuckles. “You know, part of me thought you’d be more concerned about Maria.”

Gerald spares a glance at the light mage following closely behind Katarina. Certainly, he is concerned as well, but… “Maria can handle herself: She can heal her injuries.”

“There are limits to light magic too, you know. Even hers.”

“What are you trying to say?” Gerald turns to his brother, barely keeping his voice a whisper.

Alan shrugs. “It’s just not what I expected.”

Gerald tries to focus back on their task as they continue through the winding corridors. Katarina leads them, brushing past runes of carved ancient script before he even has a chance to parse their wording.

“Left,” she says at a junction, spinning on her heel and taking off down a corridor.

“Right,” she says again, mirroring the move as they wind deeper and deeper into the ancient halls.

She seems to be moving with purpose, but Gerald is not sure where she’s going. Still, none of them want to contest her directions, so they all follow behind her brisk pace.

Finally, he whispers to Alan again. “Why are you even talking to me?”

The fourth prince turns to him with an annoyed look; blue eyes narrowing as he runs a hand through his silver hair. “Can I not talk to you?”

Gerald sighs, shaking his head. “That’s not what I mean.” He looks back toward Katarina, surveying the hall as to avoid his brother’s eyes. “I feel as though we have spoken more to each other today than we have in the past eight years.”

“I guess you’re right,” Alan admits, shrugging. “I don’t know, really. I guess I just don’t feel so pissed off at you anymore.”

Gerald spares another glance. “Is it because of Lady Hunt?”

“Maybe? That’s probably part of it.” Alan smiles, shaking his head. “It’s a crazy feeling to know you’re loved by someone like that…”

Gerald feels an odd pain in his chest as he looks back to Katarina.

The incessant muttering coming from the twin princes behind her keeps disrupting Katarina’s concentration. She freezes in place and spares them a glare. “Do you mind? I’m trying to focus.”

They both freeze, both adopting guilty smiles. “Apologies, Katarina,” Gerald says. There’s a strange sadness in his eyes. “Please, lead on.”

Katarina faces back to the hallway, resuming her stride. If she is where she thinks she is now, then when she turns the corner, she should see…

“Lady Katarina! Look up ahead!” Maria points down the stone hall, looking toward the obstacle blocking the hall ahead.

“An enchanted ice wall,” Katarina replies, hardly keeping the grin off her face. “We just need a way through.”

Alan cracks his knuckles; a smile curling across his lips as he thrusts an arm forwards and opens a palm. “Oh, this will be –”

He jumps back as a lance of flame curls by his side, impacting into the ice and causing a burst of steam.

A soft glow permeates the fog as the water mage condenses it into an orb floating above his palm, only to glance to his side and find Gerald with a flame dancing in his own.

“Apologies,” the third prince says with a smile. “I thought fire magic might be more applicable.”

Alan sighs, rolling his eyes as he tosses the orb of water over his shoulder and lets it splash into the floor behind him. Then, he looks to the ice wall, eyes widening as he realizes the icy blockage is reforming. He once again thrusts a palm outward, summoning a soft glow to it as he halts it in place. “Alright, come on!” he looks to the others, gesturing them forwards. “Get through! The enchantments here really do not like me holding them back like this…”

Katarina and Maria nod as they file through the opening, followed shortly by the princes themselves. The moment Alan dispels his magic, the ice wall reforms behind them.

“Thanks, you two,” Katarina replies, and both princes offer her a smile in turn.

“Yes, thank you,” Maria adds. Then, she turns to Katarina. “What next, Lady Katarina?”

Katarina points down the hall. “Deeper we go!”

The light begins to thin as they venture further into the ruins.

Mary Hunt tries to maintain a smile as she deals with the absolutely dreadful atmosphere around her. It is not enough that these dim ruins are filled with a pervasive odor. No, she also has to deal with the tension that comes from the identities of her team members.

Mary has always had sympathy for Lord Claes, given the parallels to her own family situation. Even as her opinion of Lady Katarina has greatly improved, it still baffles her that someone so kind could be so estranged from her own sibling.

However, the feeling does not appear to be mutual. Indeed, the younger Claes seems to have nothing but contempt in his dark blue eyes whenever they look Mary over. And that is to say nothing of how he looks at Lady Sophia…

The white-haired girl clings to Mary as they walk together, hiding herself from Lord Claes’ hateful gaze. It makes Mary think quite poorly of him – she knows that Lady Sophia was involved in the decision to suspend him, but to hold a grudge against her for it? She simply did her duty as a council member, given what little Mary knows of the whole debacle.

Lady Sienna is at least not cowed by Lord Claes’ glare… though she is still very clearly uncomfortable with it.

So Mary, being experienced with handling irate nobles, tries her best to keep his eyes focused on her as the four of them stride through the seemingly-endless candlelit stone halls.

“Lord Claes,” she begins. “Do tell me a bit more about yourself. I have not seen you about the academy grounds in a long while.”

He looks to her with an unamused stare, clearly aware of her intentions. “We do not need to be friends to complete this exam, Lady Hunt.”

“Well, yes…” she sighs “…but it certainly would not hurt to get along better, wouldn’t it? We need to cooperate.”

“I am cooperating.” His voice has a defensive tone as he says it. “Let’s just focus on getting through this, okay? Then we can go our separate ways.”

Mary feels Lady Sophia tug on the back of her tunic as Lord Claes looks over her shoulder, and Mary stops as she looks back to him with a frown. “Lord Claes, it will be over sooner if you cease glaring at our teammates.”

His lips purse as he also stops and looks back to her. “You wouldn’t be so inclined to be kind to them if you truly understood the woman they idolize.”

Mary crosses her arms, looking up at him. “Because I cannot imagine growing up in a family that does not accept me or my heritage? Is that what you are going to say?”

Lord Claes remains silent, evidently realizing the implication of her words.

“Lord Claes, I will not pry into your situation. I do not know how Lady Katarina treated you. Perhaps your anger is warranted. If it is, you should still not direct it at us.”

He lets out a breath of air, looking away as he hunches over and resumes his journey down the stone halls. “Just hurry up,” he mutters.

The three others look between each other before resuming their pace behind him.

“I knew things were bad with Lady Katarina and Lord Claes,” Lady Sienna whispers, “but I did not understand how bad they really were…”

Lady Sophia looks up with her red eyes, nodding. “He… really hates her…” Her voice wavers. “I think he hates me too…”

“His loss,” Lady Sienna replies. She extends a hand, patting Lady Sophia on the shoulder and causing the girl to relax a bit.

“I just don’t understand it,” Lady Sophia mutters, letting go of Mary’s tunic as she steps between her and Lady Sienna. Her bob and ponytail shake with her head. “Why would anyone hate someone as nice as Lady Katarina?”

Mary has an idea, though she struggles to imagine Lady Katarina in the place of her stepsisters. Still, to be insulted for so long… to be called, ugly, dirty, lowborn, and unworthy for years and years on end…

Mary just can’t imagine Lady Katarina being so cruel. Or perhaps… she does not want to imagine it…

It is in that troubling interim that Mary spots the pressure plate at Lord Claes’ feet.

“Lord Claes, look out!”

The ducal heir whips his head back in confusion, but it’s too late. The black leather of his boot presses into the false stone, and there’s the whirring of unseen mechanisms as the hall shivers to reveal dark gaps at its far end.

Lady Sienna runs forward, putting herself between Lord Claes and the disturbance. She opens her palms and spreads her arms wide, forming a shimmering, sparkling magic shield between them just in time to deflect the first few arrows.

Lord Claes looks to her in shock, then, seeming to realize the situation, thrusts an arm upward, summoning forth two towering figures of earth to block the hallway ahead. The arrows bounce harmlessly from the golems’ wide stance, and Lady Sienna sighs as she drops her shield and wipes the sweat from her brow.

“This place is going to get us all killed…” she mutters.

Lord Claes turns between Lady Sienna and Mary herself, a confused expression on his face. Then, in a voice almost so quiet as to be inaudible, he mutters a thank you to them both.

He no longer glares at them when they continue moving forward again.

Katarina is not lost. She most definitely, certainly, absolutely is not lost. For her to be lost would be to admit that her foreknowledge had limits, and that navigating mostly-featureless deathtrap mazes was one of them.

No, she is simply… temporarily displaced. Once she finds another landmark, she is certain she will recall where she is. Of course, if her plan is to work, at some point she will need to find an area that is utterly unfamiliar to her, as she knows the magic crystal is not in some place she recognizes… Is she at that step now? Is this where it might be?

As if to answer her prayers, a stone opening in the hallway ahead reveals a room with something shiny glimmering inside. Katarina barely holds back her glee… as well as the urge to run towards it. Instead, she looks to the others, and they all slowly and carefully step around every suspiciously discolored stone on the floor as they make their way towards the room.

When they finally reach the entrance, Maria beams. “Yes! There it is!”

Katarina grabs Maria’s shoulder, pulling the light mage back before she can step through the stone doorway. Maria looks back at Katarina with a confused expression, but the noblewoman simply shakes her head. “That’s a trap.”

Katarina lets go of Maria, stretching her hands to her sides as she adopts a wide stance. Summoning mana from her core, she thrusts a hand forward; palm glimmering as she unleashes the miraculous energies she’s practiced.

A small stone sails through the air, striking the pink crystal with a tink and knocking it to the floor. A moment later, the false floor crumbles beneath it, and the crystal is swallowed by the dark.

Katarina steps back from the doorway-made-precipice. Her magic fades as she dusts her hands off with a satisfied grin. “See? Trap.”

Maria’s blue eyes go wide as she looks into the dark pit. An awkward smile returns to her lips as she turns back to Katarina. “I see. Thank you for the assistance, Lady Katarina!” Despite her enthusiastic tone, her skin seems quite pale.

Alan groans from behind them, and even Gerald’s smile struggles to remain on his lips.

“This is getting quite irritating.” The way Gerald’s blue eyes look to the walls around him suggests that the third prince desperately wishes they were made of something flammable.

“Well, I don’t think anyone else has found the crystal yet,” Katarina says. “If they did, the aides would be guiding everyone to the exits.” Her brow furrows as she brings a finger to her chin. “Then again, we haven’t seen the second-years or the professors at all. Maybe they just haven’t found us…”

“D-Don’t say such things,” Maria protests, shaking her head. Even the pink flowers braided into her hair seem to wilt at the thought.

“Well… Either way, there’s only one thing we can do.” Alan sighs, running a hand through his silver hair. “We have to keep looking.”

They all suppress sighs.

Katarina steps back from the stone doorway, moving a small distance down the corridor before leaning against its wall as she tries to get her bearings.

There’s a small click as the stone she rests on sinks into the side.

Katarina lets out a brief scream as the wall opens to swallow her, and then slams shut.

Mary stiffens as a scream echoes from the hallway ahead. The rest of her group stiffens as well.

Sophia looks between them all with wide red eyes. “W-Was that…?”

“Lady Katarina!” Lady Sienna immediately takes off down the hall, running in the direction of the scream.

Lord Claes looks after her, dark blue eyes going wide. “Hey, wait! There might be traps!”

Either Lady Sienna does not hear him, or Lady Sienna does not care. Either way, the woman’s dark blonde ponytail bobs as she runs deeper and deeper into the hall.

Lady Sophia looks to her, and Mary nods before the both of them take off after the wind mage as well.

A moment later, Mary hears Lord Claes’ footfalls behind them.

Katarina’s screams echo down the stone slide as she plunges into the dark; feeling the musty air rush past her at a truly alarming rate. She cannot see at all; only feel the stone at her back as her enchanted tunic protects her from the friction burns she would most certainly be receiving otherwise.

Still, it is far from a pleasant experience to plunge blindly into the dark. The terror she feels right now is unpleasantly reminiscent to what she’d felt upon seeing the first glint of Gerald’s sword in her previous life.

It is almost a relief, then, when she feels herself flung out onto a rocky cold floor.

To be quite clear, the aches she feels as she peels herself off the ground are far from pleasant. Yet at least she is stationary. Not that it matters much, given that she cannot see a single thing.

“Hello?”

Her voice echoes in a wide space – far larger than she had initially assumed.

“Can anyone hear me? I’m okay, but I think I need help!”

The sound again reverberates from invisible walls; bouncing in the darkness in a space far larger than she finds comfortable.

She feels around for her pouch, brushing over the tassel on her chest and the belt around her waist until her fingers make contact with the container’s small leather lip. She had a fire-starter rune in here, didn’t she? She can’t quite tell where she’s put it…

It’s only as her panic fades that she realizes the room is not as dark as she thought.

There are small luminescent crystals embedded in the stone. Barely visible, but putting out enough light for her to make out her surroundings now that her eyes have adjusted to the low light level. She decides to save the fire-starter then. At least for now…

The space she is in is indeed large. A gigantic black orb of indeterminate purpose hangs from the high ceiling in the center of the room; uncomfortably reminiscent of the same strange one she’d encountered in the ruins on the outskirts of the academy earlier in the year. She even feels the same strange pull it exerts on her as she looks at it.

There are runes carved into the walls, intermixed and mingled with ancient script writing. It’s too dark for her to make out any of it. She can only tell that the carvings span up and down the walls and floors of the entire cavernous space.

“Is anyone there?” Her voice carries once more, bouncing off the walls as no response seems forthcoming. Katarina tries to locate the shaft she fell from, but perhaps due to the low light, she cannot see it.

Swallowing her anxiety, and sparing one last glance at the strange dark orb, Katarina moves away from the room, venturing deeper into the dark halls as she looks for a way out.

Prince Gerald stares at the wall, pressing his hand against the stone button again and again as he wills it to work. Nothing happens. The wall does not respond.

In a grunt of frustration, he thrusts out a palm and brings down the most searing, blazing flame he can conjure upon the stone surface. It is pointless: The flames merely lick against the surface… but he cannot think of anything else.

It’s only as the air around him becomes unbearably warm and his mana uncomfortably thin that he finally gives up, dispelling his fire as it leaves behind a small, scorched patch of glass on the stone.

It takes a few minutes for his sight to readjust to the dim light of the corridor, revealing the worried expressions of Alan and Maria as they look back to him with wide blue eyes.

“We need to find one of the aides,” Alan mutters.

Maria nods. “I will –” She pauses, mouth parting as she realizes she hears quickly approaching footsteps.

From the opposite direction they came from, Lady Nelson tears across the corner, followed shortly by Lady Ascart, Lady Hunt, and Lord Claes. The group comes to a halt just in front of them, and Lady Nelson takes no time to fix him with a golden glare.

“Prince Gerald… What happened to Lady Katarina?”

Gerald quickly recounts the events to her, gesturing to the scorched wall as he does. The woman furrows her brow and then looks over her shoulder. “Lord Claes?”

The nobleman blinks dark blue eyes. “Yes?”

Lady Nelson simply points at the stone.

He frowns, seeming to hesitate for a moment, but as the gazes of the group descend upon him, the ducal heir deflates, closing his eyes and shaking his head. He holds out a hand. “Okay. Stand back…”

With barely any effort, the earth mage rips the wall straight off, revealing the shaft into the darkness.

Gerald runs up to the gap, crouching down as he cranes his neck over the darkness. “Katarina!?”

His voice echoes down the chute, but there is no response.

Alan moves next. “Katarina!?”

Again, there is nothing.

Lady Ascart moves up next, cupping her hands around her mouth as she looms over the hole. Her palms glow softly as she inhales a breath. “LADY KATARINA!?” Her voice – augmented with wind magic – is impossibly loud.

It’s hard to hear over the ringing in his ears, but Gerald is fairly certain that Katarina still does not respond.

A pit erupts in Gerald’s chest, and the others all around him share similar expressions of despair as they eye the dark hole.

He’s halfway to convincing himself to jump in after her when he hears a familiar voice behind him. “Excuse me.”

Every member of the group turns to face Nicol, the second-year student remaining impassive as always as he regards them all with cool detachment. “It seems you require assistance?”

The longer Katarina stays in the dark halls of the ruin, the more she feels as though she is being watched.

She knows it is just paranoia – an overactive imagination given so little to look at that it invents sounds and sights that aren’t real – but she still can’t shake the feeling that there is something else in here with her.

She quickens her pace.

She’s found some crystal down here, at least. She doubts it’s the one they’re looking for, given its dimness, but its soft green glow is the best light source available to her outside of her fire-starter rune, so she holds it tightly to her side as she winds deeper and deeper into the ruin’s underbelly.

All the while, she tries to ignore the soft echoes of footsteps and the gentle rustle of wind.

She knows she needs to call out – make noise so she can be found by the others – but as the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, she worries more and more that it is not her friends that will answer. So, she remains quiet, looking for her own escape as she wanders the dim green glow.

Still, after a long while of wandering the seemingly-endless dark halls with no sign of escape… she decides to risk it. Closing her eyes and steeling herself, she lets out a roar worthy of Mother: “Hello!? Is anyone there!?”

Her voice rings out through the stone corridors, met only by the howl of wind and shifting shadows.

That is, of course, at first.

“Are you lost, Lady Claes?”

Katarina spins on her heel, coming to face the disturbance. She arches a brow, seeing the red-headed noble standing shortly behind her. “Lord Sirius?”

The student council president smiles in the dark hallway. “You seem to have gotten separated from your friends. Perhaps I can escort you back?” He offers a hand to her.

Katarina looks around the dark shadows of the hallway, feeling a creeping sense of unease. There is a sense of… staleness in the air. It as though it is suddenly harder to breathe.

Something feels wrong.

“Lord Sirius… Can you lead me back to my friends?”

“Of course, Lady Claes!” His hand remains open, and he again gestures for her to take it. “It is very dark, so I will guide you.”

Something feels wrong about this… but it must simply be her nerves getting to her. So, Katarina nods, walking toward him and gripping his hand.

As she does, her body shivers as her feet are rooted in place.

Cold. Freezing, gnawing cold. It surges through her arm and down her spine, causing her to shiver as tendrils of freezing ice crawl towards her core.

The president does not seem to realize anything is amiss, smiling gently at her and speaking even as she can no longer make out his words over the shadows playing at the edges of her vision. She feels… fuzzy: It is becoming hard to think.

The dark hall seems to fade away as her awareness shifts to the magic within her: The flowing strands body muffled by the icy tendrils reaching deeper and deeper within her as they snake toward her core.

There is a spark in her chest: A single mote of warmth that oddly conjures up memories of soaking rain and the smell of sugar cookies when she focuses on it. It alone keeps the shivering tendrils – the shadows – at bay from the source of her magic: The window to her soul.

But it is fading fast.

The freezing dark slowly smothers it; choking out its light as it tries to wrap around her core. She can feel the anticipation of its embrace; the seductive pull of allowing her darkest fears, anxieties, and jealousies to take full control. Only the dimming light holds her back from her destiny.

When it finally winks out, the shadows lunge toward her core.

But at that moment, Lord Sirius releases her hand, and the shadows fade.

“…you understand what you must do now, right?”

It takes Katarina a moment to regain her bearings. Her thoughts swim as her awareness once again returns to the dark corridors. Katarina doesn’t know what to say, so she nods. Part of her wants to ask Lord Sirius what just happened – to question if he understood the strange darkness that his touch seemed to force into her – but…

…but…