Autumn Rose (The Dark Heroine Sequel)

Autumn Rose (9)

Previously:

My mind fought with itself. He should not be here. He has no reason to be here. But I could ignore neither the leather satchel resting at his side nor the diary in his other hand, the school logo printed on the hard front cover. He wasn’t wearing a uniform, but I knew the sixth form didn’t have to. A lump formed in my throat.

‘Do you always greet people like that, or am I the exception?’ His accent, Canadian, rung over the whispers of the students around us – they weren’t stupid. They read the magazines and watched the news. They knew who was standing before them.

‘My apologies, Your Highness, I was not expecting you.’

*

‘No, forgive me, I didn’t mean to startle you.’

I nodded to the ground, feeling the urge to reach out and snatch up my dagger. I knew better.

The bell sounded, yet nobody moved. The Athenea. Not now. Not here. Movement only began as teachers started to cross the tarmac, late and unhurried as they always were to tutorials. If they were surprised by the scene before them, they didn’t allow it to show.

‘Good, I see you’ve met each other.’

The sound of the headmaster’s voice straightened me up; fingernails buried into my palms to help me keep control.

‘Autumn, this is—’

‘I shouldn’t think either of them needs an introduction, Headmaster,’ a second teacher said – Mr. Sylaeia, my English language and literature teacher, as well as my tutor. ‘They will have met at court.’

Mr. Sylaeia, unlike the other teachers, didn’t hide his surprise, his untrimmed eyebrows arching as they moved from the dagger on the ground, to me, to the tanned arms of the man in front, clad only in faded jeans and a white v-necked t-shirt.

‘I’m afraid the weather here isn’t quite on a par with what you will have experienced in Australia, Your Highness. I would recommend a coat in the future,’ Sylaeia said.

‘Please, call me Fallon,’ the prince replied, his eyes never leaving me as my mind reeled, unable to comprehend what I knew was happening. I stared straight past him to Mr. Sylaeia, mental barriers opening just enough to allow him to speak in my mind – he was half-Sage, and although he did not bear the scars, he possessed many of our abilities.

‘You understand what is happening,’ he said. It was not a question.

‘Why?’ I replied, releasing the dread in my chest which wormed its way between my ribs, slowing my breathing.

‘His parents desired for him to spend a year as a guardian within the British education system. He requested a state school.’

‘There are thousands of state schools. Hundreds without any guardian at all.’

He held my gaze and his silence told me there was more, but that I wasn’t going to be privy to it.

‘Autumn: Fallon will be spending a year here studying his A2 levels. I would like you to mentor him in his first few weeks and make him feel welcome here at Kable,’ said the headmaster.

I can’t do that, I thought. But I nodded, just once, keeping my lips pursed to prevent myself from revealing the wrong answer.

‘Well, if you’ll excuse us, Headmaster, I believe my tutor group is waiting for morning registration. Autumn, Fallon; after you.’ Mr. Sylaeia motioned towards the two-storey block that housed English and I sped in front of them both, feeling my expression crumple into one of despair when I entered the dimly lit stairwell that led up to my tutor room. I moved as though in a dream, climbing the staircase without noticing where I placed my feet, unable to believe that what was happening was anything but a nightmare.