Abigail Gibbs - Autumn Rose

I halted at the gate and waited for her to reach the top of the hill at the path’s end, where I could just make out the cottages and their tiny doors giving way to the vast branches of a maple tree. When she crossed the summit, I broke out into a jog too and quickly emerged at the turning she had directed us to the week before. On the other side of the road, I could see her diving between the unruly shrubs in her yard and hear the slam of a front door.

I let out a sigh of relief, but it wasn’t enough. I couldn’t let her be alone, not with those thoughts running through her mind.

Yet when I reached the opposite sidewalk, something made me pause. There were no gates, or guards, or lodges, but I was acutely aware as I passed the sign bearing the avenue’s name that this was her territory, and that I was trespassing. It was like being a kid again, trying to steal apples from the crown orchards; they were not fenced and we were never told not to go there, but we knew that what we were doing was wrong.

I took a few cautious steps and glanced around nervously. It had been a long time since I had walked around a neighbourhood alone and unguarded.

I stopped when I reached the edge of her front yard. It wasn’t an unpleasant house – it was quite charming in a small, rustic sort of way – but it was hard to believe that the duchy of England, with all their wealth and property, lived here; much easier to imagine the field day the paparazzi would have if they knew the details of their lifestyle choice.

I gripped the pointed post of the white picket fence. It was common knowledge the House of Al-Summers had always rejected pomp, but this … this I had never expected.

Then I noticed something that made my blood run cold. In the driveway were two cars.

It took a minute for my heart to stop racing. I knew her parents worked away in London. It had never for one moment occurred to me that they might actually be home for her.

I shook my head and let out a sharp breath. She was not alone. I could go. Yet at the same time, it seemed like a perfect opportunity. Human or not, her parents were nobility and I would have to introduce myself at some point. It would be an advantageous move.

But even as I placed my hand on the gate I knew that I could not do it. I could not face them, look them in the eyes, and shake her father’s hand. Guilt – for now, at least – prevented me from intruding upon their lives any further.

I looked up at the house, half-expecting, half-hoping, but knowing it would be better if I didn’t, to see a flash of gold. There was nothing.

She is safe now. Her parents will take care of her.

And so I let go of the gate, turned, and walked away.

‘If your mind is anything to go by, I’d say you’d been to dinner with a vampire, and you were the main course.’

I did not reply. Behind my closed eyelids all was dark.

‘Fal, I’m your cousin. What is it?’

‘You remember Autumn Rose as a child, right? How would you describe her?’

‘Confident, pretentious, bossy maybe. Good talker.’

‘Yes. She was. But that is not the wreck I’m at school with. That is not the girl we came here for.’

There was a pause. ‘It’s this place, Fal. It’s godforsaken.’

My parents were home, and there was no faking illness with the shrewd eyes of my mother tuned to any pattern she didn’t believe colds could muster. A cold that miraculously healed in time for work the previous weekend only to return exactly a week later was not a believable cold; that was why I was up with the bright break of the next day and in school just as the caretakers were unlocking the doors.

The sun had not yet risen high enough to warm the bench I sat down on, so I stretched the tips of my toes beyond the shade and let my legs bask in the growing heat as the light worked its way up towards my skirt. I slid a little lower, letting my head rest on the back of the bench.

I closed my eyes. He wouldn’t be here for another twenty minutes at least, and it would be half an hour before the buses arrived.

Why did he bring up that yesterday? It made me uncomfortable; more than uncomfortable. I was admitting a stranger into the innermost workings of my mind; and as much as he obviously thought to the contrary, we were strangers. Playing as children to pass the long hours at balls did not make us friends. I didn’t even properly remember the visits before I was twelve and I had not been the only child of high birth to move in such circles at that time. There were dozens of us. Yet in just two weeks he was privy to things I had not divulged to a single human at Kable. How does that work?

I summoned a globule of water, about the size of a pea, into my hand and let it skate across my palm, perfectly intact, and down to the base of my wrist. It was soothing – a trick my grandmother had used to get me to sleep when I first went to live with her.

I felt the clouds close over the sun and reluctantly opened my eyes, thinking it must be time to find somewhere to hide out until tutorial. I blinked a few times, before the globule burst and I scrambled to my feet.

Leant against a nearby bench was the prince. The remnants of a small smile on his lips disintegrated as our eyes met and he began the stuttered apologies of someone caught red-handed.

I dropped into a low, cautious curtsey, unsure of how else to react.

‘Don’t,’ he muttered. ‘Just don’t.’

Instead of standing back up, I sank onto the bench.

He sat down beside me. ‘Tell me you wouldn’t do it?’ he asked in a near whisper.

I shrugged my shoulders.

‘Have you seen someone about this? Had therapy?’

‘Right after she died. It didn’t help.’

‘But it’s got to be better than this. Look what happened yesterday!’

I said nothing for a while, resting my forearms on my thighs and leaning forward; that way I couldn’t see him. ‘Have you heard of something called coping ugly?’ His silence answered me. ‘Sometimes things – and emotions – that might otherwise be bad are the only way we can cope.’

I briefly glanced back to find him shaking his head.

‘But how can you still let it affect you? Why not start looking forward instead of back?’

‘It’s not just her.’

‘Then what else is it?’

I remained mute. He sighed, before I heard the bench creaking in protest as he leant forward; out of the corner of my eye, I could see his arms, clad in the thin wool of his jumper, just inches from my own, bare.

‘You have a job.’ It was a statement, not a question. ‘Runs in the family, huh?’ He let out a chuckle then stopped abruptly. ‘St. Sapphire’s was lucky to have your grandmother as a teacher. She was one of the best.’

‘Yes.’

The dark blue jumper disappeared from my view. ‘Does it not bother you that your parents work in the City? The banks have a lot to answer for these days.’

I shrugged.

‘Listen, I was wondering if you would agree to a fight this lunchtime? Only to retirement, not first blood. I’ll run it past Mr. Sylaeia in the tutor time … if-if you want to, that is.’

I sat quietly for a few minutes. I heard him shift.

‘The Extermino could come back and attack here any time. We should keep ourselves ready.’

I scoffed. ‘We wouldn’t stand a chance against them. But, yes. I would like that.’ I rose to my feet, hearing the rising chorus of voices from the car park as a busload of students arrived.

‘I have a few useful tricks up my sleeve to use against them. Oh, wait, you’re going?’ he questioned, scrambling to his feet.