Abigail Gibbs - Autumn Rose

I handed around the sheets and friends squealed or groaned as they compared schedules, exclamations of disgust erupting from those who had drawn the less popular teachers. Two year ten boys cheered, celebrating that they no longer had to study history and the three girls in the year above, year twelve, compared their free lessons, excitedly discussing how once the eldest learnt to drive they would go into town instead of studying.

I neared the bottom of the pile, coming across the cluttered timetable of ‘House of Athenea, Prince Fallon’, which was followed by a long list of prefixes and titles, the first being ‘H.R.A.H.’ : His Royal Athenean Highness.

Why didn’t the school tell me he was coming? I thought, but answered my own question almost instantly. Because I never would have come back to school. They know my attendance is bad …

He barely had any frees, which was unusual for a year thirteen and when I counted up his subjects, I realized why.

English Literature, French, History, Maths, Chemistry. Five. But nobody takes five subjects at A2. He must either be mad or prepared to work insanely hard.

Knowing others were waiting for their timetables, I placed the sheet in front of him. Beneath his was my own timetable, which I set on the desk whilst I handed the remaining few out. But before the paper had even touched the wood, Tammy had snatched it up, comparing it with her own.

‘We’re in everything together,’ she informed me when I sat back down. I felt very enclosed and, with a glance around, realized most people had moved at least a foot or two nearer to us; to him. ‘Apart from GCSE French and your A level English Lit.’ She sighed. ‘You’re crazy, doing both GCSEs and A levels.’

I acknowledged that information with a nod, busy writing my name on the front of one of the homework diaries Mr. Sylaeia was handing out.

‘You’re taking A level literature, Lady Autumn?’ Fallon asked.

Tammy offered him my timetable and he took it. Still filling in my details on my diary, I watched him through my eyelashes, noting the fact he had switched to using a formal address rather than my title.

‘In that case, I believe we have that class together.’

My pen paused part way through writing my address on the inside cover. I looked up, forcing a disinterested smile, as though this was not strange; as though a prince attending a tiny, rural state school was the norm. I resumed writing, retrieving my timetable and copying it up into the diary.

‘Don’t have many frees, do you?’ Gwen commented, leaning over his shoulder and getting as close as she dared without touching the vine-like scars trailing across his tanned skin. Her hair fell on his shoulders and he shifted away from her in his chair, running a hand through his own flaxen hair.

My lips parted. That I did not expect. Gwen seemed affronted, but blessed with people skills I could only envy, she didn’t allow it to show for long as she twisted behind her and started an animated conversation with the three year twelve girls, who repeatedly looked at the prince.

My attention was snapped away as Mr. Sylaeia retreated behind his desk, writing his name up on the whiteboard. ‘Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome, and welcome back to Kable. I am going to be your tutor this year, and will take registration every morning, so we will be getting well acquainted. For those of you who don’t know, I am Mr. Sylaeia; that’s how you spell my name right there.’ He slammed his marker pen against the plastic board. ‘I’m half-Sagean and I’m told it’s a pain to pronounce, so you may call me Mr. S. if you wish.’

He put the pen down and picked up a piece of paper with a list of words on it, and squinted at the top. ‘So we have a new student in our midst today. Some of you might know him. It’s … er … A-athana? Athena? I don’t know, tricky name, that.’ He lowered the paper and squinted over at the prince. ‘They have a whole load of weird letters before your name. H.R.A.H. anybody? Anybody got any idea what H.R.A.H. means?’

By this time the class could barely contain its glee and burst into raucous laughter, in which the prince more modestly joined, tipping his chin towards the ground as he blushed.

‘I jest, of course. But yes, Fallon is joining us this year as another guardian to protect our school, and we should all feel very lucky to have two such powerful young Sage keeping watch over us in these dangerous times.’ The laughter had died down to a sombre silence now, and Sylaeia embraced it. ‘On a serious note: some of you may have heard about the recent local Extermino attack, and about others around the country. No doubt most of you have heard the rumours about the young kidnapped human girl, Violet Lee. You may be scared, or unsure of what this means for you. These emotions are all expected, but this doesn’t mean you should lash out, or be anything less than the decent human beings I know you all are … so please, respect the privacy of our guardians, do not view them through the light of how many letters come before their names, or view them as so very different from you. If you can let them get on with their jobs, then with fate’s grace, we will have a great year.’

Then with fate’s grace, I thought, we might survive this year.

I fastened the buckles on my bag, careful to avoid raising my eyes. The reality still hadn’t sunk in and I didn’t wish to hasten its arrival. I felt as though I could look up and he would not be there; everything would be normal and this unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach would disappear.

‘Autumn, Fallon, could I speak to you both for a moment?’

This time I had little choice but to look up, my eyes settling first on the prince, bag already slung across his shoulder, and then on Mr. Sylaeia, waiting behind his desk.

‘We’ll be in the quad,’ Tammy muttered, ushering the others out. At the same time, Mr. Sylaeia gestured for us to come closer.

My hand gripped the strap of my bag until my knuckles whitened and in the back of my mind, I was aware that the last time I had been so close to this boy was at my grandmother’s funeral.

Were you still ignorant then?

Mr. Sylaeia turned away, using a rag to wipe his name from the board. ‘As Autumn knows, any Sage on the school campus are my responsibility. Therefore, Fallon, I ask that you ensure you maintain shields when using magic on site and respect the privacy of the minds of humans. The paperwork I have to fill out in the event of an accident is enough to send any man or Sage to an early grave and I would rather like to make it to forty.’ The prince nodded. My grip tightened. ‘And Autumn, I read this over the summer. I thought it might interest you. Enlightening interpretation of misogyny in The Taming of the Shrew .’ He handed me a thick paperback volume, well-used judging by the creases in the spine. I mumbled my thanks, placing it into my near-empty bag.

Sensing he was finished, I moved towards the door. But as I reached it, Mr. Sylaeia’s voice sounded in my head. ‘It will not be as bad as you think.’

I fought the urge to freeze, yet I could not stop myself from glancing back at him. He was not facing in our direction, but typing something on the computer in the opposite corner. I turned back, carrying on along the short corridor until I reached the door to the staircase.

He is a wise man, but this time he cannot understand.

‘Duchess!’

I concealed a sigh, pushing through the door. It swung shut after I had passed through but quickly opened again.

No, I am quite positive it will be far worse than what I imagine it to be.