Vera's POV
Vera and Estel practically skipped to the new schoolhouse, which was built three years ago as part of one of the second prince's reformation projects. He was said to be an awkward shut-in, whose only friends were books and the dead. Some suspected he had weird ghostly powers from the queen's side, but he had done more for the common folk in the last seven years or so than any ruler in an average person's lifetime, so most people didn't care how weird or creepy he was anymore.
Only she and Dan knew that he wasn't getting his ideas from the dead, but rather from Dan. They would explore and talk about life and would stumble upon something that they wished they could change or make better. They would investigate things and ponder how to fix them and would sometimes poor over history books and ledgers to find solutions. Every day with him was some new puzzle or challenge to beat.
She smiled brightly at the familiar shops and people and smiled; she was glad to be back. People waved and shouted greetings as they rushed past excitedly, and she shouted back waving or promising to visit after school. No longer did she have to fear fitting in, despite her northerner pail skin and unusual black hair she must have gotten from her mother she now felt like she belonged.
She might be an odd girl by their standards, but they had mostly gotten used to it by now… mostly. Estel's father still didn't like her for filling Estel's head with such unwomanly nonsense that no respectable person would dare think. Respectable people were weird, boring, and sometimes mean. You'd think that it would be beyond them, politeness being such a cherished value, but she had learned cruel intentions often lurked behind nice words and polite smiles. She hated those people, but she had to admit she had learned a lot from them after her father challenged her to try and beat them at their own game, proving she could act just as dignified… when she wanted to.
They crested the small Knowle and the new school building, four times the size and two stories tall, came into view. It was a sight to behold. The bell was ringing signaling the start of formal classes, though the school never shut its doors to those who wished to learn. And dozens of students were rushing about and jostling each other playfully as they went. If they didn't run, they would be late.
She shared a look with Estel and grinned, they lifted the edges of their long skirts and ran laughing at the thought of Mrs. Miller catching sight of them behaving so unladylike, but it's not like they were nobles, so what did it matter? And she wasn't looking to catch some man's eye either. She still had way too many things to do and see in this world before she would ever consider marriage.
The way Mrs. Miller described it, it sounded like a dungeon sentence but with cleaning, just as much screaming, and less sleep. Yet, she talked about it like it was something every girl should want.
Maybe it was, most girls seemed to, even Estel sometimes talked about wanting at least part of that life. But Vera was different in more than just looks and she was fine with that. It even gave her an excuse. They couldn't expect her to be Just like them, after all, she was a strange half-northerner, half-something else, gypsy seemed the most likely as they had all sorts of hair colors and skin colors.
She hoped that was true, a life of traveling seemed fun, and they knew such a wide range of cool tricks. She'd befriended a red-haired gypsy girl who came with her family every summer, and she was tons of fun. Estel found their lifestyle very odd, while Vera found it fascinating. In just another month or so she would likely be back too. As much as she liked it up north she missed her friends.
"Is that any way for a proper young lady to act?" Mrs. Miller stated from the school's doorway as they neared breathing hard, their hair a windblown mess. "Have some dignity, and cover yourselves." Vera laughed making the older woman scowl.
"But our ankles are covered, tis' still cold so we have long socks." Vera pointed out.
"That is beside the point." She huffed. "I'm disappointed in you Estel, I expected better from you, I'm not so sure your wild barbarian friend has it in her to act like a lady."
Vera might have been upset at this sort of comment years ago, but she'd heard it so many times and Mrs. Miller didn't say it in disgust as some people did. She said it as a challenge, having figured out that was the best way to get her to prove her wrong.
She wrinkled her nose in one last rebellious act but dropped the hem of her skirt. "I was just so excited to be back to learn from you, I temporarily forgot myself," she said politely knowing the woman knew the rotten truth under the pretty words for she had helped to teach her how to do so.
"I'm pleased to hear that, I guess I can expect you to join my class today? I'm sure you could use a refresher," she replied sweetly. Mrs.
Oh, she was sly. That was one win for Mrs. Miller, but the war wasn't over yet, she thought. She politely accepted her help and promised to be there… right after she visited the scribes. Her friend Stewart would have details of all the political happenings since she left. It definitely wasn't because Mrs. Miller always did needlepoint in the mornings…
Despite what a lot of people thought, she didn't hate Mrs. Miller and she didn't think she hated her either. Granted they did get off on a very rocky start, and butted heads frequently, she came to realize she was strict and harsh because she cared.
She once said 'If it's not worth getting upset over, it's not worth your time.' she'd made a sassy comeback, pointing out that by her own definition, since she got mad at her most in class, she must therefore value her most. At first, she'd thought she'd won that argument because she didn't have anything to rebut, but the slight nod and smile made her realize it was her way of agreeing with her.
That one simple statement also validated all the times she'd gotten angry, that there was something of value under that anger that she must find before give it the time and effort it was worth.
She learned that she didn't dislike needlepoint simply because it was boring, but because she was bad at it. She didn't want to give value to something she failed at because she'd assumed that meant she had less value. She'd learned the value of patience though she still struggled with it, and she now appreciated the talents of others whom she'd accidentally minimized their worth as many had done to her.
She might not enjoy the classes that Mrs. Miller thought, but she learned a lot of surprisingly valuable lessons from the old woman nonetheless. She challenged her more than most teachers and had grudgingly earned her respect. She liked to think that that was mutual. But one class of needlepoint wasn't going to make much difference, what else could she possibly still have to learn about that topic that would be useful to her anyway?