Come Monday evening, the fun of the last week slowly drains from me in my dimly lit bedroom, tendrils of steam rising from my cup of tea. Preparing myself… for water magic class.

I’ve tried not to think of the sleepy prince during the week, hoping that subconscious thoughts can just, like, solve this problem. In that regard, spending time with the other princes has helped me settle my doubts.

Even in the book, Leo would grab Eleanor’s hand in a half-asleep daze, later on even embracing her. When I first met him, I was mindful of this and woke him from outside his reach. In the book, he would openly flirt with her in a way the other princes didn’t. Regardless of where or when, he would say pretty words, touch her lightly and let that touch linger.

And nothing bad happened because it was a story and the author didn’t want to write about a bunch of rumours and bullying and all that. No letter from home, or disciplining from the school. If two students truly acted like that, I’m sure they would be dragged out by their parents, such displays enough to bring doubt on their upbringing being proper. Few adults care for bullies; however, none wish to have their daughter’s dignity questioned nor their son thought of as a scoundrel, both bad for marriage prospects and socialising.

At first, I thought Leo served a purpose, a kind of vaccine that would give those he sweet talks a protection from similar men in the future. But a vaccine is something harmless. I no longer think he is harmless.

It was upsetting to hear him say something unpleasant and not apologise for it. As a woman in this time, I am rather sensitive when it comes to matters of my chastity and such.

“Oh of course,” he said, like I’m the foolish one for getting upset over a joke.

Yet those words he spoke: “I wouldn’t think you wish to be so indecent.” I should have asked him what he meant, pushed him to tell me in clear words what his wittiness tried to hide. How else am I supposed to understand that? The way he said it, leaning in and using a throaty whisper…. Suggestive. Unpleasant.

What would those watching and listening think?

Perhaps if things had gone worse for me, if I had nothing to lose, I could lose myself in his charm. But I now have things I want to protect—precious friendships. I don’t want Evan and Julian to rethink their friendship with me, don’t want Cyril to pull me aside and threaten to write to my parents, don’t want Violet to angrily question my dignity in private.

I’m not Eleanor, floating through a book where the only wrongs that happen to her exist to be swiftly and zealously righted. My actions and choices have real consequences, and one of those choices is who I associate with.

It’s… good that I’m soon quitting the café. Violet and my mother are right to so criticise me over working there. My father was kind enough to make it my choice, yet that’s not the same as his blessing, a criticism by kinder words, letting me make a happy mistake.

In the same way, I shouldn’t cling to my desire for friendship. I gave up on Gerald, so it should be easy to give up on Leo. We only had a few conversations and they were hardly deep or memorable. I liked him well enough at first, and then I learnt more about him, and now I don’t. It’s that simple.

I rub my face, my eyes puffy from the emotions I’m stirring up. Loneliness is a hard habit to break. Clingy yet distant, full of self-doubt and overly forgiving, always wanting to find fault with myself before others only to then judge others harshly for petty things.

In this regard, I’m thankful for Ellie’s memories. She had a handful of bad experiences with boys at school. A group would half-surround her, intimidating, ask her to meet up at the back of school or the nearby park. She later thought they probably wouldn’t do anything, but those actual moments were terrifying—helpless, alone.

No, Ellie didn’t have it at all easy. Even if those occasions were rare, once in a lifetime was more than anyone deserved.

The shock to me when I saw Leo as one of those boys, feeling an echo of the emotions she did, somewhat cleared my head at the time. Still, I don’t think Leo is that bad. He’s just not good.

I think he’ll notice I’m avoiding him and he’ll move on. I don’t owe it to him to explain myself, and I don’t have to give him a chance to explain himself—I’m not going to start rumours about him or anything like that. How I feel around him is important, how I think being around him will impact how others see me is important.

With that, I’ll put my doubt to rest. I’ve carefully thought through this a few different times now, tried to be as rational as I can be, and come my decision.

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I have to care for myself.

As nice as it is to tell myself I’m putting it all behind me, it’s not quite that easy, sleep hard to find and harder still to hold on to, constantly falling in and out of it. Really, I’m not sure if I’ve slept more than an hour uninterrupted by morning call.

Well, nothing some makeup and a smile can’t hide.

Whatever the myriad of reasons it could be, I end up just drifting, a general sense of my consciousness sitting deep in my head, barely paying to attention to what’s happening and yet doing everything I should. Bathing, dressing, grooming, then on to socialising and eating, then lessons. No one says anything, asks if I’m okay, so I guess I either look normal or that bad. Ah, but Evan would definitely ask if I looked half-dead.

Morning, break, midday, lunch, afternoon….

It’s tempting to run away. One of Ellie’s coping mechanisms (before therapy) was to keep telling herself that she could just skip class, go to reception and say she feels sick or something like that. She never did, but she kept telling herself that right until she reached the classroom door. I guess I’ve picked it up without meaning to, a voice in my head whispering, telling me to drop out. It’s not a required class, is it? A club, really. No register is taken, no one would even miss me.

But, you know, I won’t be bullied by my anxiety. I won’t ever say I’m stronger than Ellie, but I’m trying to learn everything I can from her life to make myself a better person.

Packing up my things at the end of the last class, I pull myself together, put all that effort spent worrying towards what I should actually be doing. My first thought is that, since what I am worried about is how Leo may act, having someone with me would be best. Evan happens to be in my line of sight, but that’s…. Violet would be better, and I’m sure she would come without even asking why, but….

I don’t want to be a nuisance.

Although I start thinking about another plan (like sitting at the front of the classroom), my idle gaze comes across Ladies Challock, Lenham and Ashford. As things click into place, a whole new anxiety engulfs me.

But I’m not going to give in to this one either.

Gathering my resolve, I neatly stand and pick up my handbag, and I say a quick goodbye to Evan. I only take one step in the wrong direction—towards the front of the room rather than the door—and Violet catches my eye. Ah, just walking is hard. I smile and bow my head, hoping she understands I’m not coming to see her. Her gaze lingers on me for a painfully long moment before she looks away.

My heart might well give out at this rate.

Pushing onward, I slip through a column of tables and into the middle of the room, hovering around the edge of Ladies Challock and friends as they talk. I muster my waning courage and say, “Excuse me.”

Despite never having a lesson on it, I truly believe every lord and lady knows precisely when such words are directed at them. These ladies are no exception, their conversation pausing as they all turn to me. Lady Ashford being the closest, she speaks up.

“Lady Kent? Is there something we can help you with?” she asks.

I wouldn’t call us friends or even on good terms, but she seems kind enough and we (including Lady Challock, but not Lady Lenham) have been grouped up a few times for water magic class. That is, while there’s still some frostiness between me and most of the ladies at the school, these three sometimes greet me or otherwise always return my greeting. Cordial. I wouldn’t feel comfortable starting up a conversation with them out of the blue or sitting beside them without reason, but today I have a reason.

Smiling apologetically, I say, “If it wouldn’t be a bother, may I accompany my ladies to the magic class?”

“Oh no, it would be no bother, would it?” Lady Ashford says, turning to Lady Challock.

“None at all,” says Lady Challock.

My smile turns grateful, but, before I can voice that, Lady Lenham speaks. “Well then, I suppose I should take my leave. Good day,” she says, her tone brisk but not irritated.

The other two return her parting words. Unsure if I should say anything, having not technically greeted or spoken to her, I err on polite. “And you,” I say.

Having ended their conversation, the remaining two ask me to wait a moment and they gather their bags, the three of us then heading out in a loose triangle (them in front and me behind in the middle). It’s actually quite nice, not feeling pressured to talk since I’m not beside them, and they clear the path in front of me. That only lasts while we follow the flow of people outside, most of the ladies heading towards their dormitories and some half the lords going to the dining hall (teenaged boys are still rather renowned for their appetites here) or maybe the sports fields—I don’t really know.

Once outside, the wider path relieves most of the crowding, and we quickly take a left, few people going this way; I even recognise one as another water magic class member. The etiquette in such situations is more guidelines than anything prescriptive, but I push forward and walk alongside Lady Challock.

They keep talking to each other the short walk around the edge of the building, pausing while we file through the door to the classroom. From memory, they like to sit to the side and near the front, and we do go there. The order muddled at some point, I end up sitting next to Lady Ashford. It’s somewhat nicer for me that way as I’m a bit more comfortable with her.

Lady Challock has a tone that’s somewhat intimidating, speaking like a duke’s daughter ought to. (Not that she is one, but she likely will be soon; my father mentioned over Christmas that the Duke of Bucks, her uncle, is ill and without an heir, and that it’s understood the king will pass the title to Lord Challock.)

Anyway, Lady Ashford is more like Jemima, talkative and with a disposition to match. I wouldn’t say kind, but kinder than most. I think.

They continue talking (without including me) until Ms Rowhook arrives. I’ve been staring somewhere between my knees and the back of the chair in front of me, so I don’t know if Leo has come, but another lady sat beside me, blocking me in.

You know, I thought I’d be flooded with regret or stay anxious once I was actually here, but I actually feel nothing, and feeling nothing after feeling so anxious is… nice.

If only for the peace of mind it gives me, this was the right decision.