Abigail Gibbs - Autumn Rose

‘The fifth and sixth dimensions are very similar, because more forests have been preserved compared to here. That’s where the winged people and the elven fae live … they are both very beautiful beings, and nomadic. They don’t have a monarchy, and they don’t use modern technology. They are so at one with nature they don’t need it.’

‘The wolves in the seventh dimension can transform into human-like creatures at will, and the maengu in the eighth are water creatures, who can also transform to come onto land. And then in the ninth … well, we call them the phoenixes, and they can only take on a human form for one month in every nine.’

He left it at that.

Like actors in a play, the prince and I only spoke when directed by Mr. Sylaeia. The rest of the class was infuriatingly silent. They knew nothing, even when Mr. Sylaeia asked them for the basics that would have been obvious to any human elsewhere.

Eventually, he gave up, turning to me, his tone much softened now. ‘The fas, or basic principles, if you will, Autumn.’

‘The wielding of energy, preservation of the balance of nature, courtesy in respect to rank, loyalty to Athenea, and strict adherence to the Terra Treaties.’

Though Sagean was a tongue stifled beneath the other, it still felt strange to speak those words in English, when I had repeated them as a mantra in my native language as a child. They did not belong in this language. This tongue could not convey the beauty and binding power of those words.

Mr. Sylaeia pulled out the board marker that lived in his shirt pocket, scribbling out each of the fas. ‘The first four are quite self-explanatory: magic; a respect for nature, especially concerning diet and more recently, climate change; etiquette; and loyalty to the Sagean royalty. Does anybody know what the Terra Treaties are?’

I could see Fallon perk up, gazing around the room as his eyes became wider and wider. His lips parted.

‘Nobody?’ Mr. Sylaeia clicked the lid of his pen shut with the palm of his hand. ‘Nobody at all?’

A chill passed up my spine at the disturbed silence. I knew there were many things they didn’t know. I knew that beyond how hot the nobility was, and who was dating who, there was no interest in my people. Yet to not know what the treaties were …

Mr. Sylaiea answered his own question. ‘The Terra is the name given to a group of treaties signed universally by all dimensions and humanity in the early nineteenth century, formalising what had previously been a set of uncoordinated laws. The Terra Treaties are the reason Autumn and Fallon are sitting in this room as guardians, here to protect the school. The Terra Treaties are what binds a dark-being, under penalty of death, to never harm a human unless lives are threatened, with the exemption of the vampires – who wouldn’t be able to survive without this exception. The Terra Treaties are what essentially keep the peace that you enjoy.’

Nobody spoke. It was not a stunned silence; the quiet of a class in awe. It was bored silence. This was not achievement to them, or reassurance, it was politics: boring, mind-numbing politics that – beyond the hot prince – did not touch upon their closeted lives. I shivered at those words; I could still remember the whispered utterance that came with their mention in the classes at St. Sapphire’s, the pride that our race had negotiated stability for all dark-beings. The treaties did not bring stability now. They didn’t bring anything.

‘They won’t hold us in peace much longer, will they?’ I said before I could hold my tongue. But I decided I wanted to continue. Why lull in a false sense of safety? ‘Humans are in conflict with dark-beings everywhere. And situations like what has happened with Violet Lee only make things worse! Meanwhile, enemies of us all take advantage of the conflict to try and make the Terra fall apart, and cause war … enemies I am trying to protect you from,’ I finished quietly, eyes bowed to my book.

The class finally broke their silence and erupted into murmurs, followed by protests about how it wasn’t the humans’ fault. Mr. Sylaeia’s eyes widened and it didn’t matter how much he rapped on the board, the room wouldn’t quieten.

I buried my head in my hands and dug my nails into my scalp. Why couldn’t I keep my mouth shut?! Now everybody would think I hated them, and they hated me enough already …

I didn’t even notice the prince had stood up until I heard his voice over the hushing room.

‘Autumn is right. The Terra won’t last much longer. The world has changed, and we don’t see eye-to-eye anymore. It could lead to war. But it won’t. Fate won’t let it get that far. What do you think the Prophecy of the Heroines is for?’

I pushed down so hard on the desk to stand up that the table moved with a groan and my chair nearly toppled over. I felt silly standing but it was an old ritual from my Sagean school, and sitting made me feel small compared to the prince. ‘And how can a few dark-beings rebuild the Terra and stop a war? What if they don’t appear in time? What if they fail?’

‘They won’t,’ he insisted, and for the first time I actually met his gaze. His forehead was set in a single line of frustration and I could feel my magic beginning to warm up my veins with anger.

‘No Heroines have appeared yet. If the vampires killed Violet Lee tomorrow, there would be no stopping a war. What happens there affects us all!’

I waited, holding my breath and almost hoping he would try and deny my logic. I knew I was right, I had seen the threat with my own eyes: the hate of the humans, the Extermino … and Violet Lee, the peculiar girl I couldn’t get out of my dreams.

‘You’re wrong—’

It was still early enough in the term for the coming of the bell to be something of a shock: as the shrill, uneven wail cut through the quiet, everybody jumped.

I packed up my things as quickly as I could and rounded the end of the horseshoe, wishing my feet would move a little faster so that I could get out before the prince finished what he had to say. All the courage that I had possessed when angry had fled, just like I was fleeing outside.

‘Autumn!’

Turn for Pete’s sake! I could feel him closing in on me, the rest of the class not far behind, never breaking from their packs.

‘Duchess!’

Then came the call that stopped me, that turned me on the spot. It was a call that summoned from the unnatural earth roots that held me in place, prisoner to hear what I knew was coming.

‘Why do you keep calling her duchess?’ It was an innocent question. Tee, joining her cousin in the ranks of the class, could not have known how much I had dreaded that very question and prayed in the last twenty-four hours that nobody would notice how the prince addressed me.

I pleaded with my lips, mouthing no, no, over and over, but when he turned to look at the younger girl and back at me, I could see in his bright cobalt eyes – they always said you could mark noble blood by the eyes – that he would not oblige.

‘Don’t you know? She is the duchess of England.’

I did not wait to hear the gasps, or the questions, because I could not bear to hear them. Instead, I turned and walked six measured paces, then took to the air.

Remember who you will one day be, child!

I do not want to think of that day, Grandmother. I do not want to think of it.

Why do that? Why be so wilfully cruel? Why deny me my choice like that? At least I could run. If it had not been the end of the day I wouldn’t have been able to escape his revelation like this. Escape him.

Though the sun created a patchwork of light and shadows below me on the town, the air was cold. The wind from the sea was caught in the jaws of the concave river mouth, funnelled along the increasingly narrow valley, stirring the masts of a tall ship moored on the Dartmouth embankment. The rigging made a soft chime that the wind carried with it, an underlying melody to the beating of water that the old paddle ferry produced and the shrill whistle of the steam train weaving along the embankment towards Kingswear. It was a small village, standing in proud opposition to Dartmouth on the other side of the river, its multi-coloured cottages rising in uneven terraces much like the larger houses of the larger town did. Over bridges, past creeks and below the village school, where the old-fashioned bell tolled to announce the end of the day, the train passed, eventually coming to a halt beside the smaller, lower ferry.