Abigail Gibbs - Autumn Rose

‘Your entourage has arrived, Your Highness.’ I bowed my head in the direction of the entrance and curtsied as he narrowed his eyes at the oncoming crowd.

‘My what?’ he said, but I had already turned and retreated, hearing his title, and mine, rise on the wind as he was swamped once again.

‘I will not go! You cannot make me!’

The child fastened the ribbons of her straw hat beneath her bun, a few stray hairs covering the clumsy knot. Usually, she would tie a neat bow, but she could not do that whilst walking, especially so fast, with careful emphasis on every step to make sure that it echoed. She climbed the staircase, intending to lose herself within the pre-lesson crowds of the dining hall, but her grandmother followed close behind. Her footsteps were the echo-of-an-echo, and they were relentless in their pursuit.

‘Child, it is your tenth birthday! You cannot turn your back this time.’

The girl was careful to keep her back to the older woman, weaving between the crowds towards the top end of the middle table.

‘Why not?’

‘Because already you ignore your parents when they travel to the City on business.’

The girl smiled the smile of someone much older, revealing a gap in her bottom row of teeth, partly closed by an adult tooth.

‘As do you, Grandmother.’

‘Mr. Sylaeia was fine with it, he said we should practise defensive magic, just in case.’ The prince hoisted his bag higher, marching across the field with me at his side. ‘But the headmaster was a pain. I don’t know why he’s so against it? Does he want Extermino knocking on his door?’

‘Kurt Holden,’ I muttered.

‘Yes, but that was years ago, wasn’t it?’

‘Valerie still remembers,’ I replied under my breath, extremely conscious of the way the prince’s fan club had swollen in their ranks to include most of the school: the wildfire gossip network had kicked into action once again. Most settled on the banks nearest the school buildings, whilst a few of the older, bolder sixth formers continued on with us towards the very end of the field. When we stopped and deposited our bags, they carried on to a sunny patch in-between the trees.

‘Right, no weapons and the first to retire loses. But don’t push yourself too hard, we need to keep a shield up to protect the students.’ He began unbuckling his scabbard from his belt and my eyes, without seeking my permission, wandered down. ‘I don’t suppose you’re the type to put a wager on this, are you?’

I blinked a few times and shook my head, hastening to cast my own sword aside, along with my flimsy shoes – they would only get broken.

He began backing away, and as he did, I felt the buzz of a shield erupt from the ground up. It rose above our heads, enclosing us in a dome forty feet high. He continued back, a smile appearing on his face. I recognized that smile: it was the smile he wore for the media; a wry grin of quiet confidence.

‘I should warn you, duchess: I won’t go easy on you.’

‘No, Your Highness,’ I responded, adding my own magic to the shield. My muscles tensed and I was shocked by how quickly it was draining me. It was then that I questioned what on earth I was doing. I had as good as admitted to him in the car the week before that I hadn’t used any serious magic for well over a year; in contrast, he had the best education and disciplined training money could buy.

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