The Art of Imagination

Chapter 10

“Ingrid! Ingrid, just a moment!”

Ingrid was in the middle of laughing with Daphne when a new voice had interrupted her from down the corridor. Daphne nudged her with a giggle as Ingrid turned to face the owner of the voice.

“Harry,” she greeted in surprise. “Is everything alright?”

He flashed an easy-going grin. “You left your lightpad at the library. I figured you might need it to write the essay.” Harry extended his hand, the black screen held between his index and thumb.

“Oh.” Ingrid glanced down at the books in her arms and realised her lightpad was indeed missing. She took it from him in embarrassment as Daphne whispered into her ear, “See you at dinner!”

Before Ingrid could respond, the other girl dashed off. Her mouth opened and closed multiple times in disbelief.

“Daphne is very free-spirited,” Harry commented with a chuckle as Ingrid turned back to him. “I don’t suppose you will be taking after her in that manner, will you?”

“Definitely not,” she replied with a shake of her head. “I’m not one for trousers.”

Harry gave her a grin. “Now wouldn’t that be a sight? Prissy Ingrid Charles in trousers, flouncing in the stables with Gemena?”

Ingrid smiled wryly at the thought. “What a sight it would be. Thank you for returning my screen.”

“My pleasure.” Harry tipped an invisible hat, before crossing his arms across his chest.

The pair stood awkwardly in silence as other students passed them by nonchalantly. It was the young man who spoke first, saving Ingrid from stumbling over her words or making a fool of herself. She was still getting used to being surrounded by so many men at once, let alone interacting with them.

“My father sends his greetings,” he told her, scratching the back of his neck.

“Oh. That is very kind of him. How is his – er, condition?” Ingrid tried to keep her tone light.

Harry’s boyish features were masked by a look of anguish, transforming rapidly from cheer to discomfort. “He’s faring quite well for a man of his condition. His left eye is almost completely blind though.”

“Oh,” was all Ingrid could muster up yet again. It was all she could really think of.

How long had it been since she’d last seen him? A month or two? It was possibly three months, maybe four, what with all the time that had flown since her enrolment at the school. All she’d really been thinking of was her imagination’s significant improvement.

“I’m so sorry,” she mumbled, tucking the lightpad into her armful of books. “Who takes care of him?”

“He is . . . quite close with the King you see,” Harry explained reluctantly with a shrug. “So His Majesty personally invited him to stay at the Imperial Palace until I graduate.”

“The King?” Ingrid repeated, eyes widening. “Wow. Mother forgot to mention that.”

Harry shrugged again, scuffing his shoe against the floor. “It’s a detail that father and I tend to skip to, you know, avoid unwanted attention.”

“Ah, I see.” Ingrid nodded understandingly. If she was such good friends with the Royal Family, she would want to avoid gold diggers too. “Well send him my regards, won’t you?”

“Of course.” Harry’s lips tugging upwards. “When do you want to meet for the project again? It is the weekend so . . .”

“Hmm.” She tapped a finger to her chin thoughtfully. “I don’t really mind. Any day you prefer.”