The flower was so pretty. It matched the little girl’s purple cat ears and tail.

  Kitt. Kitt Kitt Kitt. What a pretty name.

  “You believed the world could be better. We were only little. Only ten. Why did they take you from me? Why did they prove you wrong?”

  A name echoed in her mind, but it was too far away to remember.

  The murmurs coming from the doorway, spilling blinding light, only made it harder to remember.

  Then a shadow of a girl blocked the light and stood above her.

  “Kitt?” Veaer asked the shadow.

  “Veaer.” The voice was too familiar to be Kitt. It must have been—

  “Elise?” Veaer choked on smoke and dust. “Oh, Elise.”

  CHAPTER 33

  CONSIDERATIONS FROM A YOUNGER TIME

  First the physician asked her to walk in a line while touching her nose.

  Then she had to state her name and birthday.

  Then he shone a light into her eyes and asked her to follow his finger.

  Headmaster Doallan Excava wasn’t happy that she failed all three tests.

  “Miss Rosell, being under the influence—not only as a minor, but during school hours—is a great offence to the academy.”

  Veaer frowned at the colours that dulled around her. The browns and greys in the headmaster’s office were just as they seemed the day she stole that folder of maps

  The big leather chair behind the headmaster only made him look bigger and the light that dangled above them made everything so close and tight. The shut door and windows suffocated her lungs and as much as she wanted to watch the wallpaper again, the headmaster’s eyes burned flames through her for seeming the least bit distracted.

  She didn’t remember when she sat down or how she had arrived in the admin building. She didn’t exactly know what she had done wrong.

  I remember… I remember Kitt.

  And another big leather chair in a different room. The wallpaper wasn’t as fancy, and the desk wasn’t polished, expensive wood. This headmaster was a principal, with cheap landscape paintings on either side of his office to make it seem peaceful. It was not.

  “And what else can you remember, Veaer?”

  I don’t… I only see…

  “How did you feel?” He folded his hands with a sad smile. “Did you get… angry? Frustrated?”

  “I didn’t do anything!” Veaer snapped and clutched the arms of her chair, the leather squeaking beneath her fingers.

  She took enormous breaths as if the room didn’t have enough oxygen. She only heard the snapping of fingers and the physician returned to her side, placing hands on her shoulders, and then gesturing to the glass on the table.

  “Have a drink. We have time to discuss this, Veaer,” the physician prompted. She hated it when they kept using her name.

  She took the tall, beautiful glass of water with two hands and gulped down half. The liquid moved through her throat, her chest, and her body.

  “I didn’t… do anything,” Veaer repeated, slowly, deliberately like it mattered in this situation. She hadn’t taken anything that would be considered ‘influencing’, and the daily antidote was so small, barely anything. It wouldn’t have forced her into the headmaster’s office.

  “I’m not here to berate you, young Rosell.” The headmaster smiled, his trimmed beard moving with his lips. She couldn’t bear to look at his eyes again, and so she didn’t know what he really meant. “I’m protecting the school, the students, and you.”

  From me?

  “Yes, we need to keep the other children in another room. Just for a little while.”

  They’re not in another room, I am.

  “And you’ll have special activities with the doctor to make sure you’re okay.”

  But I am okay.

  “There are big feelings that come with losing a friend.”

  Losing a friend.

  “I don’t understand,” Veaer spoke to the gap between the headmaster’s eyebrows. At least she would look like she was making eye contact. “What happens now?”

  “Typically, something like this would be grounds for expulsion. It promotes ill behaviour, damages your education, and it may come to harm others.”

  The ceiling may as well have collapsed upon her and crushed her little bones and brains. Expulsion. She couldn’t afford that in more ways than one. She had to stay with Adair and Haiwrin, had to complete her education. She couldn’t have something so dastardly on her record—expulsion from an elite academy for being under the influence. Even if the three of them did move into an apartment in another town and wrote up applications to send in, she would only get a big red stamp in response. Rejected.

  “I must add,” Headmaster Excava continued, “You were reportedly found in Tychon Alastor Galacia’s room. After recent events and the ongoing investigation, that was in very poor taste, Miss Rosell. I will not ask why you were there; I’m sure there were reasons.” Veaer considered the headmaster’s own mistakes in this situation. When she flitted her gaze across his face, she noticed the slight nod he made towards the physician. “But it is still unacceptable.”

  Because the Galacia family would sue? Be willing to cut their founding ties to the academy as one of their own met their demise right on this land? But she didn’t feel her addition was appropriate.

  The headmaster reached over to a drawer and pulled out a stapled booklet of papers. He placed it in front of Veaer, and then grabbed a pen to set on top.

  She didn’t make a move, trying her best to not even look at the papers.

  “I’ll need you to sign and initial in a few places.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” she repeated and stayed still. The headmaster also remained still except for an arch of an eyebrow.

  “I’m not finished, Miss Rosell.”

  She stuffed her hands under her thighs and counted her fingers with each dip into the leather cushion. What else did he have to say?

  “These papers are not for your termination.” He gestured an open hand towards them. She didn’t like the word termination. “As mentioned, you are also under my protection. Excava protection.”

  A knock sounded at the door and Veaer whipped around to look, fast enough that something cracked in her neck, and she winced as she settled back down. She didn’t have to get excited for a secretary or receptionist wanting to speak to the headmaster.

  He jutted his chin up and called, “Come in!”

  Two sets of footsteps, often heard together at the start and end of the day, upstairs on the fifth floor, but never—hardly—during the day. One confident and strong, the other light and like a ghost.

  This time she did turn around, and she was a mess of feelings at seeing Izot and Elise walking in and standing side by side to the left of the headmaster’s desk.

  “My lovely son and daughter were kind enough to vouch for you.” Vouch? “My boy—” The headmaster reached up to Izot’s shoulder and shook it heartily. “I trust him and his judgement on the students. He says you’re dedicated, a gem among rocks—his words, not mine—and deserve to complete your capstone year.”

  Veaer couldn’t help but narrow her eyes at the golden boy. He didn’t smile like he had said those words genuinely and was reliving that conversation. But he didn’t frown or have a strange look on his face. He simply stood there like he was a soldier, waiting for a command. The only bit of movement was his eyes darting to her and then away.

  “And my dear, Elise. She has so much to say about you.” So much? “That you belong here. That she quite appreciates your insight in the studies of the art stream. She would be saddened for me to expel you for this.” He didn’t grab Elise’s shoulder or gesture for her to come closer, but he did look over at his daughter with a fountain of affection.

  Elise wasn’t like her brother. She stared at Veaer with a smile. Like come here, you’re protected. Just like the headmaster said. Excava protection. And each word was real and valuable like gold. Like crystal earrings and white linen robes.

  “For a stunning record, apart from this occasion, I have, instead, decided to assign community or voluntary work to make up for the misconduct. You are to report to an experience leader anytime you have a study period, until the end of the year.”

  That wasn’t so bad. It was perfect. Anything other than being expelled from her dream academy was perfect. She only had to miss her sessions with Adair, but perhaps she would understand.

  She wanted to run into Elise’s arms and hold her tight enough to express how happy she felt.

  “Thank you for your generosity, headmaster.” Veaer would’ve kneeled and prayed but instead she bowed her head politely and signed where required so that she could be admitted into the community work program. “I won’t forget this.”

  “I hope not!” The headmaster laughed and clapped Izot’s back.

  The prince and princess laughed too.

  Veaer connected invisible threads between Elise’s black academy standard blazer and Izot’s special red and gold student council blazer as she walked behind them.

  They were silent as they strode, side by side, through the admin building lobby. When the autumn-turning-winter breeze hit them from the open door, she only heard soft grunts from both siblings.

  Then they stepped outside and shut the door behind them, and Izot practically leapt away from his sister, down the stairs and already looking for the next place to be.

  “You’re welcome. I hope you’re happy,” Izot grumbled into his hands as he brought them to his mouth and blew hot breath.

  Veaer furrowed her eyebrows and turned to Elise for answers. The young woman was staring off into the distance, like she had already left for her next place internally.

  “Thank you, dear brother.” She faced Izot and smiled with all teeth. “Your performance was stiff, but believable.”

  “I’m an international studies student, not music and performance. Do not even compare.” Izot returned the same striking smile, and Veaer wondered if a snake would fall from both of their mouths and start fighting before eating their own tails. “Goodbye.”

  The prince walked away, turning around only once more to look at Veaer, and then continued onwards to the learning centre.

  “Do you have somewhere to be?” Elise asked as Veaer stared at the sky.

  “I don’t even know what time it is.”

  Elise shook her head and then held out her hand. Veaer took it and was happy to be led, even if she didn’t know where.

  They walked the neat stone paths that gave the courtyard meaning. Each tile was perfectly imperfect, like they were designed, with slants and chips, to carry lost students to unknown revelations.

  Sweet air filled her lungs, and she was never more ready to take on life. She wondered if someone had moved the buildings back by several metres, rearranged them just to have a go. A giant hand from the sky replacing every brick with fresh plaster. The flow of magic, even if restricted, suddenly able to touch their faces, hands, hearts, and mind.

  “I should make you my muse for the final portfolio,” Veaer whispered so she wouldn’t disturb the birds in the trees and bugs in the grass.

  “Why would you do that?” Elise said from somewhere behind her.

  Veaer paused and looked back. They stood at the centre of the universe. The grand sculpture in the middle of the courtyard where all four heroes watched over their creation for eternity.

  Because I love you. “You saved me.”

  “I know what my father is like, that’s all.”

  Veaer joined her side and glanced into Iris Galacia’s eyes, full of stars, at Iris Galacia’s hands, full of cards.

  “I think it’s fate that brought us together,” Veaer said, the profound thought dropping upon her from the heavens. She hadn’t considered the idea before but felt sure more than anything. “If I am only left with my art of you, then we will still be together.”

  Soft touch caressed her right hand. She filled the space between them and connected their fingers, palm against palm. Each line that told Elise’s story was a line pinned on hers. She would need to learn palmistry one day but that wouldn’t be hard. Not if it was for Elise.

  “Even after everything? Even after today?”

  “It wasn’t your fault.” Her gaze ripped away from the statue, replaced with silky black hair, deep brown eyes, dark painted lips—rose-gold cheeks that fit perfectly in her hands. She elected to test that theory again, stepping in front of Elise and holding a hand to her cheek.

  Elise smiled up at her and when Veaer looked through the windows of the soul, she saw peace, power, and angels. Angels clad in white and purple and blue and orange robes, winged, with jewels hanging from their ears and necks.

  She let go of Elise’s hand and instead held her waist, pulling her closer so that their breath warmed their faces.

  “Tychon always said there was a reason for everything.” Elise’s words hovered over Veaer’s lips.

  And Veaer closed the gap, leaning in, and pressed their lips together.

  The angels sung above and Tychon danced in circles throwing lavender and foxglove.

  Elise’s hands flew to her shoulders and held them tight.

  They smiled and giggled like little kids and then waltzed to a song floating through the air.

  They made it through another day.

  CHAPTER 34

  THE SECRETS OF AN ANGEL

  Essays to write, folios to work on, community work journal to maintain. Time seemed to run from her, as opposed to her ability to complete work in advance just weeks ago. The cogs in her mind pumped harder than they had for a while and she was glad of it, for the structure and direction it brought to her derailed days. But when she looked down and among messy papers and half-done art pieces was the tarot journal open to a random page and the book on angels on top of a pile of art theory books, everything stopped. She knew, or at least she thought she knew, that she wasn’t the one who did this, and she hadn’t known anyone to come into her room without permission. Adair and Haiwrin were always respectful of her space.

  Had another student walked in and touched her things?

  She reached over to a small box that sat against the wall and opened it; the gem necklace was still in there. So not a valuable robbery. Her art was clearly still sitting here, waiting to be done. So not an academic robbery.

  Perhaps it was no robbery at all, as she looked through her closet and found all her clothes. And her library books were all accounted for, so no one had taken the task of returning them for her.

  She returned to the desk and sat down. Her finger touched the open page, and nothing happened. Then she flicked to the next.

  “I tell you the things that I care about you knowing.”

  Her name was repeated several times among paragraphs over the spread of pages.

  Curiosity ached in her limbs and folded her mind.

  The cover still had a sigil drawn upon it, even if faded, and the title page wasn’t encoded this time, Tychon’s name clearly written in the top right corner.

  She pulled the book closer and brought her finger to the first thing she saw.

  She hurried to the previous notes and scanned each card.

  Her tongue was heavy in her mouth and her hands grew numb as they held the leather journal cover.

  She looked at the start of the entry. Recorded more than a year ago.

  Had Elise known this whole time?

  When Veaer donned her full-face angel mask, she felt invincible.

  That incredible earthy scent returned, and the walls woke up again. She looked around to find Q and R’s heads turning into blue triangles, then yellow circles, then red squares. Then they went back to normal, with their million eyes and no mouths.

  “Thank you Angelus Orion for joining us. May the tower of fire guide… Thank you Angelus Pavo for joining us. May the tower of earth…”

  Chanting filled the room that suddenly went from dark and cold to sunny and warm, dirt and grass beneath her bare feet, butterflies dipping between red roses and then flying away. She found a bush of lavender by a tree and pulled the flowers away, bunching them in her hands and then tossing them in the air.

  Please accept my offering angels! And she spun, linking arms with Elise and pressing their masks together. A kiss in spirit, in a higher place. Please don’t hurt me, Angelus Pavo!

  The Order read poetry and excerpts about love and adventure and hurt and dying. They sang a song she didn’t know but learnt from reading Elise’s lips after they took off their masks to embrace pomegranate once again. They read what were considered myths of the four heroes, but they knew them to be true when the angels told them so.

  “They’re telling me things,” Elise whispered, and Q and R gathered around her. “They told me…” Elise gasped and clutched her heart. What did they tell you?

  “They told her to do it. To get rid of her.”

  Who, Tychon? Who? Tell me please. Don’t hurt me.

  “She had to get rid of her. She had to do it. And then it was me. And the others are next.” Tychon cried as he bit into a slice of apple, mushy and decaying like his arms, turning black. “It’s in her blood, in her name, in her nature.”

  Tychon, on all fours, his face made of teeth and his eyes stuck in his hands, bolted up to her and grabbed her collar, throwing her backwards into a table. Air escaped her and she cried to get it back. Something snapped and she didn’t know if it was the table or her bones, but she clutched the wood and screamed.

  “Veaer!” A voice broke through layers of mud and petals and for a moment her head flung back and forth, unsure of where the voices started and ended. It sounded familiar. Like a Thursday afternoon. Like strands of orange hair. Like a beautiful girl who deserved so much more. She should’ve been with Adair right now, comforting her as her brother wanted to send them away. “Veaer, what happened?”