“Madam Matilda said you can do what you want until lunchtime.” Amelia had led Ingrid back to their room in haste. “I have to go meet somebody by then as well so I’ll take you to her office. Meet me there at quarter past.”
“Yes, of course . . . but – but what exactly am I supposed to do?” Ingrid asked blankly. “I don’t really know my way around.”
“Perfect opportunity to learn,” she said simply, turning to leave.
“Wait!” Ingrid scolded herself internally for speaking out again. She started twisting her fingers nervously, casting her gaze to the floor. She’d never really had friends before so she wasn’t quite sure how to make one. The least she could do to get onto good terms with Amelia was apologise. Didn’t they always do this in books?
“I’m sorry,” Ingrid started, glancing up with a sincere expression. “I have not been around people often and I have never made friends before. I am sorry for how I spoke to you this morning. I’ve only ever spoken to maids before, apart from my family. No one else.”
If she wasn’t mistaken, it was sympathy that melted Amelia’s mask of hostility. Her blue eyes scrutinised Ingrid for several long moments. “I forgive you. It must be all new territory for you here.”
Ingrid nodded shyly. She felt completely out of place, so uninformed and unknowing at the academy. She didn’t know how to behave around others, how to treat them as if they were friends. Only in books had she ever encountered such situations. Without her numerous times spent in the library reading books, Ingrid was sure she would have ended up repelling the entire academy or worse.
“I will see you in a few hours. There are no classes today but you are welcome to go visit any professors you might find. They’re all very devoted Imaginists.” Amelia’s tone was softer now, kinder. Ingrid made a mental note never to use her maid voice again. She would hate it if others received the impression that she thought very highly of herself.
“Thank you, Amelia.” The older girl didn’t reply but Ingrid knew she’d heard.
Alone in her room again, she glanced around, eyes landing upon the line of suitcases by her bed. Well, she had a lot of unpacking to do, before anything really.
Madam Darlington’s Academy consisted of a series of buildings lined side by side, curving inwards to create a vast courtyard at the centre. The dormitories were located on either side of a jutting building which just so happened to be the dining hall, an intermediary connection between the dorms.
Ingrid was noting these details down onto a pad of paper she’d found in her bags. For the past hour, she’d been trying to sketch a rough diagram of the Academy in an attempt to find her way around. She was definitely no artist but at least she could read her own poor mapping skills.
Glancing up, Ingrid started annotating the signs bolted to the cold stone walls. So far, all the doors on the ground floor had been labelled with a ‘P’ followed by a number. That was easy to remember.
As she shuffled into one of the foyers of a rather large building, she noticed a pair of staircases, each leading up to the next floor in opposite directions. They were connected by a wide walkway at the centre above her.
“’Scuse me, Miss, but you look a bit lost.” Ingrid’s ears perked at the voice. She was aware of the fact that the girl to boy ratio at the school was vastly outnumbered so there was no doubt the voice was addressing her.
“I’m just trying to find my way around,” she told him with a smile. “Which way do you recommend I go?” She pointed left then right with the tip of her pencil.
“I would suggest left, personally because it’s my lucky side.” Ingrid’s smile broadened slightly. The boy was obviously younger than her with those childish features and mischief in his eyes. Why, he didn’t look much older than her cousin Jeffrey who’d just turned sixteen two months ago.
“Thank you,” she told him, climbing the left staircase.
Ingrid noticed he didn’t follow her and shrugged it off, continuing her mapping process. This time, however, the classrooms were labelled T. How odd.
She scrawled down all the classroom names, feeling as if she needed to be thorough with all these classes, which floor level they were located and such. Just knowing even the minutest details gave her a sense of reassurance in this unfamiliar school.
Several times, Ingrid had been offered help in navigating and each time she’d declined. Inside, she was flattered that there were so many gentlemen willing to help a lost girl but at the same time, she hated being looked upon as helpless.
“Ingrid! Hi!” Daphne came running towards her, boots clacking loudly against the floor. Ingrid blinked rapidly, wondering if her eyes were deceiving her. Was she wearing . . . trousers?
“Have you seen the stables yet? Oh, I’m sure you’d love it.”
“Daphne,” Ingrid greeted rather disapprovingly. “What are you wearing?”
“Oh, these?” Daphne glanced down, heading bobbing back up to face her. She shrugged. “They’re my riding clothes. I had them specially tailored when I heard the Academy housed riding animals.”
“Isn’t it a little shameful to be wearing a man’s clothes, even for riding? Unladylike, don’t you think?”
Ingrid didn’t miss the hurt expression that crossed Daphne’s face, almost instantly regretting what she’d said. “They’re not a man’s clothes. They were designed for me, a woman.” Her tone had taken on a sudden air of aggression.
“I’m sorry,” Ingrid said guiltily, feeling her lips tremble. Her tongue had gotten the better of her again. “I didn’t mean to be like that. I’ve never worn trousers before and it was quite forbidden at home.”
“Oh.” Surprise then empathy flickered across Daphne’s features, chestnut eyes understanding. “My parents are like that. Believe me when I say mine are worse.”
“I truly doubt it,” Ingrid shot back with a bitter laugh. “My mother was the epitome of a lady. Always made sure my etiquette was perfect.”
“I can certainly see that,” Daphne mused, shaking her head. “But at least your parents aren’t obsessed with reputation and wealth.”
“Trust me, I’ve gone through that.”
“Yeah? Have you ever heard of Lord Goodwin of Hollings?”
The cogs in Ingrid’s head started turning. She racked her brains, the name ringing a bell. Then it hit her; the man twenty-seventh in line for the throne, the man whose family was renowned for their impeccable socialite status.
“Him!” Ingrid exclaimed, smiling. “Yes, I remember! He and my father were once business partners.”
“Well he’s my father and I hate him,” Daphne told her simply. She must have caught the surprise on Ingrid’s face and grinned. “I love and hate him. It’s complicated – but enough about me. Why are you wandering around? You look so lost.”
“Amelia said it was a good way to learn,” she replied with a shrug. “And it is. Do you know why the rooms on this floor are labelled ‘T’ and the ground floor is ‘P’?”
“They stand for theory and practical, like physical imagination practice and then learning about it.” Daphne reached for the nearest door and opened it to reveal a room filled with rows of wooden benches and chairs. Ingrid had never been to school; she’d been home-schooled from when she could speak so a classroom was completely new to her eyes.
“This is what a classroom looks like,” Ingrid murmured, stepping inside and ran her hands along one of the empty desks. “Interesting.”
“You’ve been home-schooled too, huh?” The redhead leaned against the threshold of the door, a knowing smile toying at her lips. “I guess we have a lot more in common than I thought.”
Ingrid merely nodded silently. She ran her eyes over the desks, gaze eventually landing on the wide black screen at the front. At home, they’d used a variety of chalkboards, whiteboards and lightboards too. It seemed that at this school, the teaching staff used lightboards. She could almost imagine the black screen lighting up to reveal a blank canvas for the user to write across with a lumopen. They were so much fun to use! It was a shame her parents were so old-fashioned, they’d insisted on keeping as minimal technology in the household as possible. That explained why Ingrid had only ever ridden in a steam-powered car too.
“Well, we’re not exactly allowed in classrooms so come! I’ll help you ‘learn’ your way around the school.”
It was as if Ingrid’s earlier nasty comment had been completely forgotten. She was grateful that Daphne looked past it so easily. Was this what it was like to have a friend?
“Tell me about the stables,” Ingrid spoke up as Daphne closed the door behind her with a click. “Where are they located? What fauna does the school care for?”
“You won’t believe it,” Daphne gushed, a glitter in her eyes. “They have all sorts from canines to drakkans even! I mean, those are massive and the academy can find a way to shelter all of them, even with the power of imagination!” She brushed a loose strand of red from her face and grinned. “You can finish your tour later. Come see the drakkan with me!”
Before she could protest, Ingrid was pulled along by Daphne’s surprisingly strong grip. She clutched the notepad close to her chest, pencil dangling between her fingers and struggled to keep up with the girl. No doubt Daphne was athletic but Ingrid on the other hand was not.
“Slow down,” she wheezed. Reaching the flight of stairs, Daphne zoomed down, dragging Ingrid with her. Either she was extremely passionate about animals or she was just very excitable. Ingrid had a feeling it was as combination of both.
Daphne started sprinting across the vast field the exit led to, past clusters of men who were doing what appeared to be drills, an instructor yelling and whistling at them.
“Come! The drakkan is supposed to be awake by now!” she called over her shoulder, brown eyes alight with excitement.
Ingrid gasped, feeling a sharp tug at her side as her breaths only quickened with each passing moment. For the daughter of the country’s most notorious socialite, the girl ran as if she never spent time at balls and parties but rather marathons instead!
“Drakkan!” Ingrid gasped, realising just exactly what she was about to let her friend show her.
Up ahead, a large red barn, three times the size of the Charles Manor loomed before her eyes. Near its largest entrance was a vast paddock fenced off by tall white posts that stretched almost three storeys high and encased within was an assortment of livestock. It was like all the farm animals had been rounded up in the same corral.
“Look! There!” cried Daphne with glee in her tone. Ingrid had no doubt the girl was probably grinning like a madman too.
Following her friend’s pointed finger, Ingrid felt her eyes widen, growing bigger than when she’d first seen the Academy that morning.
A beast, long and tall, the size of a one-storey house came crawling out of the barn doors. Its head alone was the size of a sofa while its talons bore claws that curved to a dangerous point as it pierced the ground. The beast’s nostrils flared, letting out a loud breath before its entire body unfurled from within and stretched across the spacious land area. It was the only beast outside of the corral.
“Isn’t she magnificent?” Daphne whispered with pride. “One day, I’m going to ride one. You can bet on it.”
“D-Drakkan,” Ingrid spluttered, hand clenching Daphne’s for dear life. She almost dropped her map of the school. Her poor pencil had already been lost somewhere in the field along the way.
As much as Ingrid had read books of romance and the Tainted, she’d also come across drakkans; terrifying creatures that breathed fire and terrorised the Lands back in the Early Age, before imagination came to power and tamed them. Not only were they a predatory species, just below mortals on the food chain but they were used in war too. There was no doubt the three nations warring against each other currently were armed with drakkans.
And yet despite the legends, the one before her appeared rather harmless when Ingrid got a better look at it. Its slanted yellow eyes looked dull and tired, rows of teeth blunt and aged. Even though its claws and body were daunting, the way the drakkan carried itself was the complete opposite: vulnerable, like it had given up on life. At this realisation, Ingrid felt the fear fade, her grip loosening on Daphne’s arms.
“What happened?” Ingrid asked sympathetically. The drakkan curled her entire body up into a ball, bathing beneath the rays of sunlight glinting off her grey scales. “She looks so old.”
Her yellow eyes snapped open, narrowing as they scanned the area until her gaze landed upon Ingrid, boring into her soul. She could feel the gust of air when the beast snorted, turning its head towards her.
“Drakkans are intelligent at this age,” Daphne hissed. “Don’t offend her.”
Fear struck Ingrid again. She stepped back warily, meeting the drakkan’s gaze. “I’m sorry. You just look tired.” Had she just talked to the drakkan?
The creature let out another snort, as if it truly understood – and she probably did. Her heavy eyelids fell shut.
“She’s about ninety years old,” her friend explained. “She was just a little draglin when the Dark Ages War started. Isn’t that amazing? A piece of history with us right here, in the flesh!”
Ingrid shook her head, chuckling. “A passion for history and animals I see.”
“I’m always here from breakfast to lunch,” Daphne told her, beaming. “Which should be in about fifteen minutes.”
“Lunch,” Ingrid repeated with a frown. “There was something I – oh!” She lifted her watch to eye level, alarmed. “Oh, I have to be at Matilda’s office by quarter past!”
“Well run along then,” Daphne urged with a wave of her hands. “I’m going to see if Gemena will let me ride her.”
“Gemena?” The drakkan lifted her head, eyes attentive at the name. “I see. Right then, good luck.”
Ingrid spun and ran, grabbing handfuls of her dress in order to free her legs further. She had fifteen minutes to find her way around to her great-aunt’s office. That couldn’t be too hard.
“Madam will see you now.” The man sat back down, turning back to his tablet and scrolled across with his long fingers.
Amelia gave her an encouraging look. Ingrid took it as one last burst of confidence before walking through the door that opened and closed behind her without any assistance. Most likely the doing of imagination.
Madam Matilda sat behind a large semi-circular desk. Her hands were furiously typing away at the multiple lightboards splayed around her on the desk. It was like her hands weren’t even touching the surface.
“Hello, Ingrid. Take a seat.” She lifted a hand briefly at the chairs across from her.
Obediently, the girl lowered herself down into the cushions. “So . . .”
“Oh yes, I have something to tell you,” Matilda started. “But I want to see you use your imagination first.”
Ingrid blinked. “You’ve already seen it.” She winced, remembering how she’d shattered her mother’s window in her office. Thank goodness Matilda had been there to fix it.
“Yes, well I need to know exactly where you’re at.”
The thought of showing her great-aunt what she was truly capable of gave her a little thrill. Finally, Ingrid could use her imagination for a proper reason, not just trivial things for her entertainment.
“Of course. What do you want me to conjure?” Excitement tinged her tone.
“Conjure . . .” Matilda paused, her hands pausing above a board that flashed a soft blue. “No, change my certificate and put your name on it instead.” She pointed to the framed diploma on the wall.
Easy, Ingrid thought smugly. “Alright.” Turning her head, Ingrid focused her gaze on the parchment hanging behind a thin pane of glass. The borders of the paper glinted with a golden lining and the font was elegantly printed in black ink, Matilda’s signature beneath her name.
Without needing to put much effort into it, Ingrid imagined the sophisticated lines rearranging themselves until they were spelling her own name, rather than her great-aunt’s.
“Done.” She beamed at her aunt who gave her a nod of approval. Now the parchment presented Ingrid as a qualified Imaginist instructor.
“Good. Change this statue into a tree.” Matilda pointed to the black panther paperweight holding down a stack of papers near the edge of the desk.
Ingrid immediately zoned her gaze onto it, feeling her fingers twitch in anticipation. The image of a tree flashed through her mind. She drew it back to her mind’s eye and focused on shaping the black sculpture to that of the image she’d conjured.
The paperweight moved and shifted as if it were molten, invisible hands moulding it until the panther’s body lifted upright, transforming into the tree trunk while its head spread into multiple branches and leaves.
“Beautiful.”
“Thank you!” Suddenly, the black bent out of shape, transforming into a flat round circle with two dots and a curve in the centre. A round smiling face. “Oh. My apologies, Madam.”
“That is what you have to work on.” Matilda nodded, a look of understanding on her face. “I just needed to know where you were at and which tutor to assign you.”
“Tutor?” Ingrid squeaked in surprise. “Am I really so untrained?”
“No, no your talent is extraordinary.” The words sent a flutter of confidence through Ingrid’s chest. “But everybody has a weakness. I always assign tutors to new recruits. The pairings usually help both students mutually.”
“So which tutor will I get?” she asked in a calm tone that barely contained her excitement.
“Luckily for you, I have just the perfect one in mind.” The smile creeping on Matilda’s face suddenly dropped. “But he’s a young man. Incredibly skilled and he would be perfect for you.” She stopped there, as if she had more to say but thought otherwise.
“Then what’s the problem? Wouldn’t it still help improve my imagination?”
The old woman’s lips formed a grim line. “Yes of course. He is the ideal tutor for you.”
“So what’s the problem?”
Her thin eyebrow arched in disbelief. “You are not aware of the basic policies of imagination, do you? Emotions must always be trained and under control. They affect imagination and how much control you have over it. That means no personal emotions between my students and therefore no romantic student relationships.”
“Whoever this man is, I can assure you, Madam, that I will not make such attachments,” Ingrid boasted confidently. “I will do whatever it takes to do my very best. If this man will make that come true, that is all I will think of him.”
“Even so, Grayson is known to be a charmer.”
“Why thank you, Madam.”
A squeak of terror, originally a suppressed scream escaped Ingrid’s lips as a new voice resounded from behind her, a little too close for comfort. She twisted around, the owner of the voice an unexpected surprise to her eyes.
“Grayson, you’re late,” Matilda replied crisply, not in the least fazed by his sudden appearance.
Ingrid on the other hand found herself absolutely speechless, eyes unable to believe the sight before her. What is he doing here? Ingrid wondered.
Mischievous hazel eyes gazed back at her as the owner strolled around to the seat beside her. He ran a hand through his dark hair, stood straight then bowed respectfully to Matilda. “Please accept my humblest apologies, Madam. I was merely tidying a few loose ends.” Lifting a hand, his fingers brushed off a small puff of black from his shoulder, leaving his blue dress shirt free of any dirt.
“You are forgiven. I would like you to meet my great-niece, Ingrid Charles. Ingrid, this is my best student and apprentice, Grayson Kent.”
Ingrid rose to her feet slowly, mesmerised and speechless. She was too trained in the art of etiquette to let her dumbstruck state paralyse her. Meeting his outstretched hand, she felt his warm hand grip hers tightly, causing her stomach to tingle. “A pleasure to see you again, s-sir.” She swallowed the nervous lump in her throat, heart beating feverishly.
All that came to her mind was the encounter with the Tainted, the near-death experience only to be saved by this man before her. She’d thought nothing of it really, only that she’d been extremely lucky. She hadn’t given him a second thought until he’d appeared before her now, holding her hand with their eyes locked.
Matilda cleared her throat and almost immediately, Ingrid dropped her hand to her side hastily, turning to her great-aunt. “You have met before?”
“He saved me from a situation,” Ingrid explained stiffly, not wanting to go into the details. “Madam, you were right. About before. The arrangement would be a problem.”
Nodding understandingly, she gestured for the pair to take a seat. Then, turning to a round speaker on the table, she spoke into it with a finger on a button. “Quentin, please send in Miss Dawson.”
“Yes, Madam.”
The door opened in a flash and her dark-haired roommate stood in the doorway, a light brush of pink to her cheeks. “Grayson, you’re back.”
“You two know each other?” came Ingrid’s inquiring voice.
Amelia’s pale blue eyes swivelled over to Ingrid reluctantly, as if finally acknowledging her presence. “Oh, Ingrid. Hello.”
“She’s my baby sister,” Grayson answered, lifting himself to sweep the girl into a one-armed hug. “Right, Amy?”
The flush in her cheeks darkened, eyes flashing dangerously. Amelia appeared as if she wanted to be anywhere but in her brother’s arms. “By three minutes. And don’t call me that.”
“Amelia, Grayson, which of you would like to tutor Ingrid?”
“I will,” Grayson said abruptly. “I’ll do it, Madam.”
“What?” Ingrid blurted out. “Madam, what did we just agree on?”
“Why . . . why would you want to do it?” Amelia snapped, pushing her brother’s arm off her shoulder. She turned to glare at him. “Grayson, you have the worst track record in the history of imagination tutoring!”
“One failed out of how many successful Imaginists, including you?” Grayson shot back coolly. “Madam, I will do it. Let me.”
“If you’re looking for a chance to redeem yourself, you are sorely mistaken,” his sister hissed angrily. “Madam, allow me. You know my brother and his past affiliations.”
A grim look crossed Matilda’s face. “I understand Amelia, but Grayson’s control over his emotions are by far the best in the school. I’m sure it won’t get in the way this time, am I right?”
“I disagree,” Ingrid declared, rising to her feet. Hadn’t Matilda also thought Grayson wasn’t an appropriate tutor for her? “Whatever Grayson did will not be beneficial to my imagination training. Perhaps Amelia would be better suited?”
The dark-haired twins stared at her in surprise. Seeing them face her at the same time, Ingrid found the resemblance to be uncanny. They both had dark hair and the same angular faces. The difference was that Amelia had blue eyes while Grayson’s were hazel. Amelia’s features were also much more angelic compared to her brother who appeared rather dark and secretive. They still had the same pursed pink lips though.
“Even the tutee agrees,” Amelia said triumphantly. “I will take her.”
“No,” Grayson growled, stepping forward and placed a hand on the desk with a demanding expression. “Allow me to teach Ingrid. I promise you won’t be disappointed. You can trust me, Madam. Please.”
“Why are you so adamant in tutoring her?” Amelia hissed furiously. “She will not be your redemption!”
“I’m not looking for redemption,” he retorted, crossing his arms across his broad chest. “I want to help this girl unlock her full potential. I believe I’m the best if her emotions are the case.”
“My emotions are perfectly fine!” Ingrid interrupted sharply, narrowing her eyes.
There came a subtle crack that perked Ingrid’s ears. She heard Matilda inhaled sharply and turned to find that her great-aunt had stopped tapping away on her lightboards. “Ingrid. My screen.” The woman lifted the thin board between her aged hands and gestured to the large rupture that split through the middle of the screen.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, aunt – Madam!”
“Amelia will be your tutor,” Matilda announced flatly, waving a hand over the display. The crack knitted together within a second, leaving Ingrid wishing she could use her own imagination so effortlessly too. “If she does not improve in a month, Grayson will replace you.”
Amelia appeared as if she wanted to argue when Grayson stepped in front of her, blocking her view. “I accept. And so does my sister.”
Ingrid was appalled at Grayson’s manners – or rather, lack thereof. All he did was keep interrupting his sister and Matilda. It was surprising that the headmistress hadn’t reprimanded him yet.
“Then that is all. I look to forward to seeing your progress, Ingrid.” Matilda made a motion for them to exit.
Ingrid wanted to argue further but found that there was nothing to argue for. Stumped, she trudged out of the office, feeling the presence of the twins behind her.
“I don’t see why you won’t let me,” she heard Grayson mutter which was followed by muted thud. “Ow.”
“You shut up,” came Amelia’s hostile tone. She stepped up beside Ingrid, smoothing her long black locks, then flashed a forced smile. “Ingrid, we shall start training an hour after dinner. Meet me in T9 and bring a notepad and pen with you, if you can.” Chin up, Amelia left the office hastily. She did not look very pleased with the arrangements, despite that she had won the argument.
“My sister is very lovely, isn’t she?” Grayson remarked, coming up behind Ingrid and walked backwards, flashing a grin at her as she walked blindly down the corridor. “Till next time, Amy!”
The older girl disappeared around the corner and out of sight, before Ingrid could catch up to her.
“I’m glad she’s my tutor,” Ingrid snapped, stepping around him. “You can leave now. You have no reason to speak to me.”
“Now what sort of gentleman would I be if I did not escort a lady to lunch?” Grayson remained unfazed at her haughtiness, a twinkle in those mischievous eyes of his.
“What sort of gentleman disrespects his superior and his twin sister?” she shot back angrily. Etiquette had been drilled into Ingrid the moment she could understand proper English. She understood that some weren’t privileged to learn etiquette but with a well-off young man like Grayson, how could he possibly act so rudely and appear so guiltless about it too? “Please leave me alone,” she told him coolly. Pulling up her skirts, Ingrid trotted down the stairs in haste.
“Why are you treating me like Amelia?” he called after her with a bewildered expression. “What did I ever do to you? I saved your life!”
Digging her heels into the floor, Ingrid stood up straight and quite haughtily too. Twisting around, Ingrid narrowed her eyes at the man who stared back curiously, not in the least annoyed with her attitude toward him but his words said otherwise.
Rude people deserved to be rudely treated. At least that was how Ingrid saw it. And she personally didn’t take a liking to Grayson anymore, not after seeing the person he was moments before. He seemed different to the chivalrous man that had saved her life.
“Wouldn’t you like an escort?” He changed the topic, flashing a smile. “Miss Charles?” He lifted his elbow.
“Amelia says finding my way around is learning on the job,” she replied curtly. “I ask you to leave me alone.”
“But why would I do that?”
“Why not?” Ingrid’s tone was sharp and biting. She turned to glare at him fully. “I appreciate that you saved my life and that you are so willing to tutor me but Amelia was wary of you and so was my aunt. That gives me all the more reason to act just the same.” Lie. You just don’t like him, Ingrid, she told herself with a scowl. She wasn’t sure what but something about Grayson was off too and it wasn’t just his rude behaviour.
The smile on his face faltered for the first time, giving Ingrid a sense of triumph. “You don’t even know what I’ve done.”
“Care to enlighten me?”
His hazel eyes flashed dangerously, lips quirking downwards into a scowl. It was the first look of malice she’d ever seen on his face. “Definitely not. I’ll be seeing you around, Miss Charles.”
“I’d much rather not,” she muttered, exiting the double doors of the administration building. When she glanced over her shoulder, Grayson had vanished. His sudden disappearance startled her but she quickly reminded herself that it was good thing. She did not need a person like Grayson hanging around her, especially with whatever ‘mistakes’ he had committed in the past.
Ingrid shook her head vigorously. Yes. He was gone, for now at least.