And then she saw Elise Excava standing by a window dressed for the same class, without a care of the time or a semblance of urgency.

  Saliva built on Veaer’s tongue and her throat closed up. Her feet were like a rubber band, unsure whether to keep going or not. Her mind was drawn in all directions and she committed to none of them.

  Mian above, she is beautiful. Let her beauty stay eternal, even if you make her a statue right this moment it would be venerated for years and polished for all to bow to.

  Get out, get out, get out.

  Run away, run away, run away.

  1, 2, 3, 4. 1, 2, 3, 4.

  She’s going to hurt me, she’s going to hurt me, she’s going to hurt me.

  Ty—

  “—chon,” she finished the name aloud, stopping right next to Elise with anxiety gripping her knees and lips. She feared that her foolish tongue revealed her thoughts and everything they carried, but Elise simply continued to watch the window.

  A mix of white and purple butterflies fluttered about, particularly drawn to the one window Elise concentrated her attention to. They neither got too close nor flew away.

  “Rosell,” Elise responded and her head slightly tilted to the right. “You’re late for class.” Today her hair was tied in a high ponytail and Veaer noticed a purple scrunchie holding it up as it slightly bounced.

  “I wonder… I wonder what happened to Tychon Alastor,” Veaer rasped out, thinking at any moment Elise could turn around and grab her and pop her like a balloon for knowing what happened and deceiving her. And it would be pain and joy all in one to be held that way.

  Then she turned around and Veaer restrained from flinching even while her bones screamed. I’m in control. There’s no need to show fear. In the face of the unknown, I will pry it out of the darkness and understand. The princess’ eyes dropped to her feet and she tapped the nose of one of her shoes to the wooden floor. Then she looked up again, her eyes fixing on Veaer’s face. Her lips became a thin line on her golden face. “You tell me when you figure it out.”

  And she took one last look at the butterflies before walking the rest of the way to class.

  “What better way to learn than to watch the sport play out?”

  Veaer slammed the gym door open as Izot finished a spiel, not intending to bring so much force to it. But the determination to dig even deeper into the mess she was in created an undeniable ambition within her, especially with Izot standing at the front of the class, a class that wasn’t his, and she could sense confusion and worry radiating off Elise who came in behind her.

  Izot cleared his throat at the interruption though his expression softened at the appearance of Elise. He didn’t have any apparent ill wishes for his sister but this was based on limited observation and didn’t consider his habit of self-preservation as student president.

  “Oh, how wonderful for you to join us!” Izot smiled and clapped his hands, though Veaer had trouble knowing if it were a genuine statement or a sarcastic one. He was much cheerier than this morning’s announcements and that made sense when Veaer spotted a fencing weapons rack close by a piste mat typically laid out for fencing matches. “It appears we have our first two volunteers.” His smile widened in a similar way to Haiwrin and Adair’s when they were up to no good.

  “I think you’re greatly mistaken,” Veaer snapped, accepting that she could see him as aesthetically pleasing but never desire to get along. It had been this way since she enrolled, but she was never reprimanded for any underhand remarks. He preferred to play the facilitator rather than the punisher. She looked away from the expression of the young man as she joined the group of students.

  “Now, now… we don’t have to be afraid. There is a lot to discuss with an experienced fencer going up against a novice. You can create an example.” Izot stepped to the weapons rack and took a foil from it.

  With no retort from Elise at all, who silently went to the bench and picked up a helmet and fencing armour before grabbing a foil from the rack—ignoring when Izot tried to pass the one in his hands—Veaer had no choice but to follow suit.

  As herself and Elise passed their classmates, she picked up whispers of condolences about Tychon being missing and hoping that Elise was alright, but deep inside Veaer knew that this act was only in the presence of the prince. They didn’t really care about Tychon, not as much as Elise may have, and not as much as Veaer did now. Elise’s expression was impossible to see through the mask as she pocketed the scrunchie, and she hardly turned or lifted a finger in their direction.

  Izot settled just behind the centre line of the piste and Veaer lined her feet on her en-garde line. Elise stood on the right of Izot at her own line.

  The helmet fit well and the armour was comfortable. She could still move with enough balance for her confidence to stabilise. She weighed the foil in her hand. The only thing she knew to do was get to know her tools, and after that her opponent. But with Elise knowing many years of experience, like her brother, and this being Veaer’s first time standing on a piste, this would prove harder than she wanted.

  Through the mesh mask, she locked her gaze on Elise, and something ached in her chest. Her hand tightened around the hilt. In that moment, she felt as vulnerable as ever, ready to crumple in fear of Elise’s ability. How Elise had changed the world in a day.

  “En-garde,” Izot announced.

  Elise slightly bent her knees, and Veaer did the same.

  “That reveals nothing of what you’re doing,” Elise’s voice echoed. No, it didn’t. It doesn’t explain anything, nothing at all!

  “Pret.”

  Her empty hand quivered in anticipation.

  “I don’t even want to hear his name!” Patrons above, what did Izot do?

  “Allez!”

  The princess bounced on her feet with the foil held in front of her. Her hand was steady, and her wrist gently flicked from side to side, waiting for an attack.

  Veaer’s feet remained in place, as if stuck to the mat, only knowing that she had to defend against any lunges that came her way. The distance between each en-garde line was too far to score without making a move. She tried to focus on something but between the moving feet, swaying foil, and every gaze around her, she ended up on Elise’s faceless mask.

  “You thought I wasn’t going to find you today?”

  Elise went for a thrust, aiming for her chest. She tried to move back in response but her feet were far too fixed to move quickly without tripping. In an attempt to save herself, she swung her foil but it hardly bounced off Elise’s as the point touched her chest and Izot lifted his right hand.

  “You know I always will.”

  “A point to Elise. Does anyone know what went wrong there?” he called to the class, only for the students to mumble among themselves. With no one raising their hand to answer, Izot continued, “Veaer wasn’t mobile enough to defend herself and was quick to flail at first attack. Common for beginners. Do note how Elise was bouncing on her feet and did not have her heel to the mat. You must be ready to lunge and leap back with a second’s notice.”

  Veaer puffed her cheeks out and turned away, even if her class couldn’t see her face. Beneath the mask she was sneering at herself, for letting her thoughts remove her. I’m in class on Tuesday morning. I’m fencing as an example with a classmate of mine … that classmate is Elise Excava. Elise, Elise, Elise. She stabbed her best friend. She—

  It was her first try, and she knew she could do better. The fortunate part of Izot’s commentary was that each time they played for point, she would have something new to adjust and another chance to win.

  I’ll prove to her that I’m worthy. I’ll show her how much her attention deserves to be on me—I’ll split you apart and drink you whole and figure out every secret, every why and how and who and where and what and when.

  She whipped around again, so fast that when she faced the students, they became a blur, blending into the walls. She had to use the space she had to her advantage. The mat wasn’t fourteen metres long for nothing.

  This time she slightly bent her knees as soon as she aligned herself, tightly holding her foil and awaiting the referee’s signal. This was the best of five, she knew that much—that required three winning points.

  “En-garde, prêt… allez!”

  She bounced on her toes, wary for any sudden movements. She attuned to the way Elise moved, every limb, every twitch of her head, every swing of her wrist. A second later, Veaer advanced and beat their foils a few times, almost a rhythm developing at each tap. Each beat meant that Elise was forced to respond and realign her foil. If she timed it correctly then…

  In a split second as Elise went for another beat, Veaer lunged forward, being sure to keep her weapon extended to create room for herself. While she was fresh to fencing, she knew well enough to not bring her weapon back onto herself. That risked a self-score, if there were such a thing, but more importantly an opening for her opponent.

  Tell me Elise, tell me everything. How does this go? We dance and swing and I spin you around, and you’ll fall into my arms. I’ll catch you and you will only have me to tell.

  Keeping light on her feet, she continued to push. She had to figure out a creative way to get through the princess’ guard. She was against a fencer first and a murderer second. Elise knew her way around a blade. This wouldn’t be a matter of practise if Veaer had her way, but a matter of outsmarting.

  It was only a moment’s difference as Elise thrusted back with intent and Veaer failed to keep a steady grip on her foil. The point touched Veaer’s belly and Izot raised his right hand again. Another thing to amend. Another chance.

  “A longer bout, but our novice didn’t quite make it once again. While she established a lead, she couldn’t follow through, allowing Elise to attack and score. It can be quite difficult to get used to fencing at first—your mind is focused on the movements and strategy of the other person while also working out your own.”

  This was no issue, she would persevere.

  “En-garde, prêt… allez!”

  They were off again, but Veaer was quite eager to break passivity as she advanced forward and parried the beats coming from Elise. With her more aggressive approach right off the bat, she could hear a few grunts from Elise’s mask. Yes, something to reveal her human nature. That she wasn’t invincible and unbreakable. A smirk tugged at the corner of Veaer’s lips.

  I need to understand Elise, I need to know more.

  It seemed the princess relied on beating foils rather than pushy starts to almost train her opponent into vulnerability. Veaer wouldn’t give her the chance and pushed Elise to the edge of the piste, metal clashing against metal.

  I’m constantly running just to catch up.

  Deliberate and with little care, Veaer straightened up and yelled incoherently at Elise, a battle cry ringing through the gym. Based on the slight shiver and flinch coming from the faceless mask and white suit, she had successfully shaken Elise with the sudden burst.

  Veaer stepped back and created unexpected space between them and Elise then rushed forward, taking it as a chance to attack. But Veaer was ready to create right of way with a slashing motion to beat the incoming foil aside and touch the point of her foil right to Elise’s chest.

  The princess dropped her weapon with a clatter, further adding to the unexpected choir of noises condensed in the student spectators. Even Izot was too stunned to declare the winner.

  Veaer’s foil point lifted and dropped with each heavy breath coming from the princess. She tried to squint through the mesh to find Elise’s face, those eyes and those lips in an attempt to read something from them, to show her an answer.

  I realise, now, that I have only come to know so little about you. Why did you hurt your friend in a way so natural to your movements?

  Seconds passed and Izot finally raised his left hand. “Veaer wins the point! Two to one in Elise’s favour.” He clapped his hands, short and twice. “The novice had taken a different approach. She established dominance from the start of the match by disallowing any passive time. Perhaps she has warmed up and is now forming her strategy unlike her losing bouts.”

  If she scored the next point, they would be tied.

  We will not be equal until I have you at my disposal. Your mind is an entire landscape for me to explore.

  “En-garde, prêt, allez!”

  Veaer didn’t want to fall into error due to being predictable, and so she let passivity blanket them for a few seconds longer than last time. It didn’t take long for the beating to begin but then they quickly transformed into attacks that Veaer had to parry.

  She pushed on Elise’ blade and threatened a touch on her. While it wavered Elise’s movement and her feet bounced in place, it wasn’t enough to guide them back to the centre of the map.

  What was Tychon doing there? What was that ritual? What was he hiding from you?

  With little room to work with, she went with her next attack strategy. She waited for her opponent to make a move, then she parried the blade a few times. Timing it finely, she disengaged, surprising Elise, and dipped low to the ground to score a point on Elise’s stomach.

  The adrenaline was pumping now as Izot lifted his left hand and even cheered for Veaer. She gasped and grinned and pride welled up in her chest.

  “A point to Veaer! While Elise managed to back her up on the strip, she was able to recover by going for an attack that would once again throw her experienced opponent off. A parry or two short from what you’d expect a full exchange to be, turned to a disengagement that allowed an opening from a touch below!”

  The air buzzed with intrigue and Veaer felt like she could float away with all the excitement radiating from the class. But what really mattered was the girl she was facing. If she could see how much Veaer was willing to try.

  The next match started in an instant and it was their fastest start yet. The two advanced towards each other—Elise with precision and Veaer with confidence. They were both light on their feet, the foils an extension of their arms. Blade against blade, fencer against fencer.

  A slash here, a thrust there. If there was something she could grasp from this exchange with a silent opponent, it was that fencing was a great way to know more about another person. The way they approached a bout, from their first match to their last point, can reveal impatience, restraint, decisiveness, and the mindset they brought to the game.

  It could reveal how afraid you were and right now neither of them was afraid.

  “This is for me and—”

  And who! I want to wind myself into the fabric you fell upon, Tychon, just to know what you were going to say. Who else is part of this? “Me and you”? A declaration to Elise? Or perhaps something more sinister?

  Elise recovered flawlessly from another attempt to score against her. Veaer could only assume the princess’ habit of beating the foils together came from her brother, who showed off a talent for aggravation when he wasn’t being the charming student president.

  What Elise lacked in force, she made up with speed. Veaer was strong but lacked the same speed. She used tactics that made up for her lack of practise. She revised her past mistakes and retried with another extreme.

  It was no one’s piste, their fight remaining within the centre and the spectators only shifted closer and closer. A flutter of excitement took over her arms and she needed to shout or shake or stomp or something right this moment to let it out. Elise staggered, becoming worn, but the two continued.

  You’ve planted these seeds, these questions in my mind, Elise. And my mind will spill upon the walls and everyone here if I don’t get answers soon. I will not stop until I know.

  Veaer advanced and Elise parried, but weaker than usual. She didn’t blame her—her own arms growing heavy. The trained fencer would have lasting stamina, that was one area they couldn’t compete in. If she wanted to win, she’d need to make her move now.

  She parried once, then twice, more heat, more clashing, more pushing. If she continued to strategise, continued to outsmart, continued to use her mind—she would get anything she wanted. She has done it before and she will do it again.

  Elise—I, Veaer Rosell, declare this school is our kingdom, this match the last where we are opponents, and Tychon our fallen knight who will bring us together in solidarity. I will make you my queen, Elise Excava. And when I call you mine, I will have every answer I will ever need.

  A slashing motion to misalign their foils before she disengaged, dipped down and—

  Both of their points had touched the opposite’s chest with barely seconds between to tell them apart. By the time they stilled, and the clanging of metal ceased, no one knew what to say.

  Until: Izot lifted his right arm and announced, “The final point goes to Elise!”

  No one moved or said anything else until Izot started clapping and a staggered applause followed from the class.

  Veaer watched the student standing in front of her take off her mask and catch her breath. Her hair was layered with sweat and her cheeks were a beautiful deep shade of red. The world moved slower and Veaer found herself watching each step taken towards the weapons rack, each movement as the foil was gently nudged back into place.

  When Elise turned on her feet and marched up to Veaer, she didn’t know what to do with herself.

  She opted to remove her helmet too, her hair damp and stringy, and they met at eye level. Those swirling pools of hazel with a flash of gold caught her breath.

  “Better luck next time, Rosell.” She could see and hear the smile with that post-game remark and she engraved that image into her mind.

  “Yes, next time.” And Veaer raised her foil with a nod and a smirk.

  CHAPTER 9

  A REQUEST OF HORRID PROPORTIONS

  Her veins coursed with euphoria and fear and pride and shame.

  “I tell you what matters.”

  Veaer clutched the sides of the changing room basin and stared at her reflection in the mirror as the tap ran at full force and water rebounded against the ceramic bowl. This time she wasn’t looking for the ghost—she knew it was there—she was looking for clarity in her eyes.