The sunrise between the main school building and the dining hall, spilling over the distant teachers’ dormitories, makes a beautiful sight to watch. However, the cold getting to us, we only stay outside another minute or so and then we walk back to our own dormitory, get ready for classes.

When we meet up again in the lounge, it’s hard to say what has changed.

Even though Violet and Helena thought I was having a problem of some kind, I thought I was slowly but surely getting on well with Jemima and Belle. And it’s not like we were sitting around discussing things in a stiff manner as if attending some formal event with strangers. We laughed at times, and we had conversations that were a bit silly.

So I guess the difference now is… I’ve let go of the fear that kept me thinking too much. I’m not emotionally distant from the group, not just sitting on the outside and chiming in when I feel like I should. A sense of belonging. I didn’t really understand before, but I guess it should be obvious that it won’t feel real if you’re pretending to be someone else. Not that I was pretending on purpose, more like a quirky yet crippling shyness changing how I acted?

Well, whatever. That was then, this is now.

There’s no particular reason to get to the classroom early, and there’s also no particular reason not to, but we can avoid the rush and it’s as easy to chat there as here. So we meander our way over, taking a longer route to go around the front of the school to see the sunrise over the town, river glistening, lingering fog glowing.

“Ah, my fingers are going numb,” Jemima says, rubbing them together as we enter the classroom.

Right, the one problem is that there’s no fireplace in here. Enchanted heaters keep away the biting cold, but it feels colder than standing in the sunlight outside. That’s not too much of a problem for me, though, so I hold out my hands and say, “Here.”

Jemima looks at me for a moment, and then catches on, grabbing my hands. I almost gasp—she really is cold. She smiles at me as if to say, “You asked for it.”

Chanting a few words under my breath, a warmth starts to envelop my skin, mild and yet prickling with how cold it is. Since I’m holding her hands, it loosely spreads to her as well. I don’t think it’ll affect her whole body, maybe just her arms? Haven’t exactly done this before.

“Wow, that’s lovely,” she mumbles.

Violet chuckles beside us. “Fire, spirit, light, water, wind—you really are a lady of many talents, are you not?”

It takes me a moment to remember I showed her the other three when we were children. Not that she appreciated them back then, telling me it wasn’t proper, or that I should simply pay someone if I ever needed magic done. Who’s got cold feet (and hands) now, huh?

“It’s nothing impressive,” I say, letting go of Jemima’s hands and smiling. “I’m on par with a good pair of gloves and thick stockings.”

So we are pulled into a conversation on magic. Not that I mind, but I’m peer-pressured into showing off. They close the blinds (much to Mr Milton’s annoyance, so Violet promises it will only be for a moment) and I conjure up a basic light. No fancy colours or anything. Still, everyone is suitably impressed. Then I pull condensation off of the windows, a moment of panic as I don’t have anywhere to put it until Belle opens a window for me. Spirit magic is at least simple, plaiting some of the thread I keep on me at all times, and wind magic also causes no problem. I mean, I can only make a breeze barely stronger than blowing, so I use it to make a paper ball hover a little above my palm.

Huh, I should totally show that to Gwen. Kids love tricks like this, right?

Gerald and his friends came in when I was getting thread out for spirit magic, but I didn’t pay them any attention, carrying on like nothing changed. Shortly after I finish showing my friends wind magic, a few other guys come in, and then it’s not long before the classroom really starts filling up.

And I stay here, chatting happily until the bell rings out.

Going back to my seat, I say a good day to Evan. His reply doesn’t come back until I’m sitting down, my bag open and history book out. “You look happy this morning,” he softly says.

Turning to him, there’s no doubt a brilliant smile on my face, and there’s no hesitation as I say, “I am happy this morning.”

“Th-that’s good,” he says, sounding unsure. Thinking that the end of it, I go back to my bag, digging for my pen case at the bottom, but he’s not finished. “Your… hair is different today?”

I’m not really surprised he noticed, my hairstyle definitely different from normal, yet it’s still nice to hear. It’s not that I did it for him or anything, but wouldn’t everyone be a little happy to know someone’s looking at them? (I mean, not in a stalker-ish way.)

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“It is. Do you like it?” I ask. Taking my case out, I turn back to the side, let him know someone is looking closely at him right now.

As it happens, Helena brushed my side ponytail to the right, so he can see it clearly. His gaze is focused on my shoulder, my hair falling in front rather than behind—I wonder if he knows how easily misunderstood he would be by anyone watching on?

“Well?” I ask.

He comes out of his thoughts, raising his gaze. “Yes, I do,” he says.

What a comprehensive answer.

I guess that will do for now, but I already have a plan for something to do later. We spend the little time before registration starts in silence; I watch the dawn as it stretches out over the school grounds, frost melting into sparkling dew, beautifully shimmering.

Even though it’s history class first period, I diligently take notes, pay attention to what Mr Willand is saying. Writing class is easier to stay focused for, but more difficult as I actually have to work. At least it’s creative writing rather than persuasive, so he’ll probably just complain that my depiction of a woman living alone in the city is too unrealistic—because of course dragons and goblins are common as muck in this world.

Morning break, I stretch out a bit. All this leaning forwards to take notes… I wonder if I should do yoga? Ah, I guess the problem is I don’t know anything but, like, downing dog, and there’s not exactly someone here to teach me. Maybe I can add some flexibility stretches to my calisthenics routine, though.

“Lady Kent?”

I leave behind my pondering and turn to Evan, a little curious. “Yes?” I ask, tilting my head.

“Are we, um, meeting up again today?” he softly asks.

It has been two weeks in a row, last week with the other princes. Yet after that unpleasantness with Leo, I was thinking I should pay more attention to keeping the distance between myself and the princes, avoid rumours, avoid sending the wrong signals.

After mulling over a couple more things, I shake my head. “Not today. However, I will see about next week,” I say.

“Okay,” he says.

My gaze lingering on him, my plan from this morning comes to my lips, a knowing smile blooming. Then my head turns. “Lady Horsham,” I say loudly, getting to my feet. Violet, Helena, Jemima and Belle stop talking, all of them looking my way. I gesture for Helena to come over. “If you would.”

It takes her a moment, but she obliges, saying as she walks here, “Yes?”

I check around for how the indirect sunlight falls in the room. With that in mind, I carefully guide Helena into just the right position in the aisle, and I lend her my chair to sit down. Lastly, I tell her where to look.

“Lord Sussex, how does my lady look today?” I ask, my mirthful eyes ready to follow his every reaction.

And my question even has the exact reaction I wanted from Helena, her cheeks taking on a pinkish tinge, the thin layer of foundation softening but not concealing her blush. Ah, I did a great job on that. Rather than blotchy, it’s shaped into a warm glow.

But I’m not cruel, my question quietly asked, and I’m standing between her and Lord Watford (who sits in front of me), so Evan is the only one who can really see her face.

The oddly serious person he is, Evan can’t not look at her after I told him to, and I think her visiting the clubroom a handful of times has eased some of his shyness. It’s only a couple of seconds before he gives his answer (and they are surely very long seconds for her).

“My lady looks well?” he says to me, his expression asking me if that’s the answer I wanted.

“I helped with her makeup in exchange for her doing my hair,” I say.

He nods in understanding. “Oh yes, my ladies are matching. But I apologise, I really can’t say anything when it comes to, um, makeup,” he says.

I lightly giggle, one hand covering my mouth as the other rests on Helena’s shoulder. “The answer you gave is good enough,” I say, and then I ask her, “Isn’t that right?”

She hesitates, trying not to bow her head. “Y-yes.”

Gosh, I would love to watch these two fumble through a conversation. For now, though, I turn to the rest of my friends. “Won’t my ladies join us?” Some might say it would make more sense for me and Helena to go over. However, those people forget that teasing Evan is one of my many hobbies.

Jemima is the first over, curious what we’ve been up to, so I bring her around and have Helena stand up (still looking in the same direction). Violet and Belle aren’t far behind, and we all line up to stare at Helena, nodding our heads and muttering to each other.

One glance at Evan and I can see he’s truly lost, like we might as well be speaking another language entirely. If only I could use my full makeup vocabulary; alas, this world is fairly basic in this area. I’m sure it’s better than actual Victorian makeup (certainly there’s no lead or anything else toxic that I know of), but I miss having proper moisturisers and liquid eyeliner and non-glossy lipsticks—to name but a few of the shortcomings here.

Throughout our conversation, Helena has kept quiet, embarrassed, yet it becomes a happy embarrassment.

“What did you do to her cheeks? It looks like she’s thinner,” Jemima says (a bit straightforward), and so on.

When we’re done with complimenting her (and I guess indirectly my makeup skills), I show off the side ponytail with the silver braid she did for me. “Isn’t it lovely?” I say.

“Oh would you stop,” Helena says, covering her face (and being careful not to smudge the makeup).

“Please, let me embarrass you a little more,” I say, leaning forwards to try and catch her eye through the small gap between her hands.

She shakes her head, turns away to better hide from me.

“I didn’t mention your eyelashes yet, did I?” Speaking to everyone else present, I say, “She has lovely eyelashes, long and dark. When I did her eyeliner, I felt my heart moved as I watched them flutter.” There’s maybe a touch of embellishment to my recounting.

Jemima can’t handle any more, her snickers getting louder, yet I still here Helena mumble, “That’s enough.”

Reaching out, I tug at her sleeve and gently pull away that hand she’s hiding behind. Reluctantly, she meets my gaze, timid as ever. “Won’t you tease me back? Do tell me how pretty I am,” I say.

Belle is the first to react, choking on her breath before she catches herself, but Violet is the first to speak. “How about we tell you how shameless you are?”

I clap my hands, smiling brightly. “What a great idea—I have so many stories I could share,” I say.

All the way from Violet to Jemima, I am treated to fantastic reactions: a shaking head, a huff, a wide-eyed stare, and a laugh trying to escape from sealed lips. But Evan has the best reaction of all, his head buried in his hands, back shaking in silent laughter.

Wonderful.