You cut through the chatter. "I've made my decision," you say, and the table falls quiet straightaway. "It's going to be Hyacinthe's idea—a rustic, cozy feel."
Hyacinthe sits up very straight. "Oh, that's lovely," she murmurs softly. "I wasn't expecting people to like it so much!"
Still, Gabi doesn't look so sure. They're drumming their fingers on the shiny tabletop. Maybe they wouldn't dare to contradict you directly, but the Council will be easier to corral if you can convince them that this is the right path.
"Come on," you say. "Won't it be more exciting this way?"
Dominique and Gabi exchange a look that's right on the border between chilly and hostile. The rest of the Student Council shift uncomfortably, and Hyacinthe and Trevelyan both look as though they'd rather be anywhere else.
You consult your paperwork in an effort to recover the mood. "We're heading to the Hearthlight market to work out our food and drink for the event. Who wants to sample something delicious?"
You lead the students out; they murmur reluctantly as they go, and Asher sticks at your side.
Next
The Linzona Hearthlight Market is placed in a wide cobbled square, and is crammed with colorful tents and stalls. Stallholders call out to passers-by, buskers sing and play with hats outstretched, glittering streamers blow in the wind, and lamps send a burnished glow over the whole scene. One huge chestnut tree, bare thanks to the winter months, has been covered with bright green candles, and although they won't be lit until the evening, it's still a spectacle.
The breeze sends goosebumps down your neck, and you make your way to the largest food tent. Spicy flavors and warm fruity scents assail your senses; Gabi moves off with a pair of the other Council members to investigate a crêpe stand. Dominique lingers to sample a cube of smoked cheese from a nearby stall, while Hyacinthe and Trevelyan chat with the stiff manner of people who do not deal with each other often.
The first item on your list is the drinks. You could ask a companion to come with you to scout out the stalls, or you could simply have a look with Asher.
Dominique bounces along beside you while Asher walks on your other side. His approach to scouting out the market is scattered at best; he keeps getting distracted with free samples. "This is great!" he says. "Can you believe this is part of our schoolwork?"
Soon, you find a stall piled high with liqueurs and juices. The stallholder recognizes you straightaway, and curtseys very low. "Your Highness, what an honor!" she says. "Please sample anything you please!"
Dominique claps his hands. "Brilliant!" he says. "Yes, let's go for everything!"
You survey the rainbow of bottles.
The stallholder deftly pours tiny glasses for you, while her assistant prepares more upon silver trays. As she does so, she murmurs deferentially about how she never dreamed she would provide for Archambault students, let alone royalty; when she asks Asher if she can get anything for them, Asher declines politely, but Dominique happily takes a glass.
You swirl your glass and sip while the stallholder announces details about the blend of fruits.
"This must be a western variety of grape," you say, casting about for anything you recall about agriculture, and the stallholder winces.
"Well, almost," she says, faltering. "I suppose they've got a bit of a tang in that direction…maybe."
Dominique grimaces and nudges you companionably; you carry on trying your samples. You leave the stall having made a large order for the Winter Ball—though you're not quite happy with what you've chosen, and a bitter aftertaste lingers in your mouth.
Next
After wandering the tent, picking out an assortment of lunch food wherever you can and eating on the go, you bump into Gabi and a cluster of the other Council members in intense disagreement over a display of macarons.
"Look, we don't have space in the budget," Gabi says. "How would we convince Clemence that gold leaf's vital for the event? What does that have to do with rural atmosphere or whatever, anyway?"
"Wait, there are gold leaf macarons?" Dominique says, craning to look. "They're amazing. We have to have them!"
He turns to you with a puppylike pleading look.
Asher eyes the macarons skeptically. "I'm not sure if they'd actually taste good."
"Exactly," Gabi grumbles.
"Be sensible about this," you say. "Remember the gondolas we need to sort out?" Gabi and the others murmur in agreement, and Dominique's face falls.
"I really think it would be nice, though," he says, and he launches into a litany of reasons why gold-leafed macarons are essential for the atmosphere of the party. Gabi bristles and argues; Dominique throws himself into the argument.
The mood of the group grows low, and Gabi and Dominique's argument gets sharper and sharper. Eventually, Gabi snaps, "I'm not listening to this," and strides off.
Next
Dominique picks up a free sample of chocolate fudge from a nearby stall. "I thought Student Council would be easier than Drama Club or the Athletics Team," he says. "Clemence is so nice, I kind of thought they'd just do everything for us."
Asher looks baffled, but they don't say anything.
"I mean," Dominique sweeps on, "why is it so hard?"
Dominique groans. "Oh, no," he says. He plucks a sample of a marinated cherry and pops it in his mouth, but winces at the taste. "Don't say that. I can't cope with it."
Asher clears their throat. "I think Prince Hugoz has the right general idea," they say carefully.
"Oh, probably, but I don't know if I agree," Dominique says mournfully. "But I should go and see what Gabi's up to. Probably halving our budget or something."
For the rest of the day, you explore the market. By the time darkness falls, your feet are aching and your eyes sting from the smoke of street food; the hotel is a welcome break.
The Hotel Awaits
In the evening, you reconvene with the teachers and the rest of the students, eating dinner at a long table lined with candles. Low chandeliers hang above you, their flickering flames making the hall feel deliciously warm compared to the chilly lake outside.
Hyacinthe and Trevelyan are both cheerful enough, as is Asher; Hyacinthe chats graciously to Pascal, discussing the history of the Linzona Theater, while Trevelyan seems to be enjoying provoking Clemence into an argument. Asher tucks into their meal eagerly beside you.
Next
The other groups are in poorer spirits. Beaumont and Mai, the muscular red-haired girl from your classes who joined the Athletics team, are at loggerheads. The pair of them lost some sort of competition, and Beaumont fully blames Mai for it. Javi keeps sharply telling Yannick from Drama Club not to fawn over her. "Of course, Your Highness," Yannick says deferentially, and Javi raises her eyes dramatically to the heavens.
All in all, despite Dominique and the Gallatin students' efforts, dinner finishes with less panache than Pascal might have hoped. "All right, you lot, best that you get some sleep for the journey tomorrow," he says.
The guests wait for you to rise before standing themselves, and you start to make your way towards your room. Asher walks close beside you. "If you want to have a word before we turn in," they murmur, "that would be very welcome."
Hyacinthe lowers her lashes and nods with a small smile. "That sounds very pleasant indeed," she says. She lays a hand on your arm and, together, you make your way to the parlor with Asher at your heels.
It's a snug room with a mantel lined with pots of bright magenta primulas, a striking contrast against the dark paneled walls. In one corner, a pair of elderly women are playing an intense game of cards; one gentleman is sprawled across a chaise lounge, nearly asleep; a small cluster of middle-aged people are finishing their drinks with jovial laughter. They look over at you and then start talking again more animatedly, occasionally glancing over: they've clearly recognized you.
You settle with Hyacinthe and Asher in the best-situated armchairs, beside the roaring fire. A waiter brings you mulled wine, and Hyacinthe thanks them graciously before leaning forward to focus on you.
"I hope," she says softly, "that your family is well? I understand Princess Josiane will be finishing university soon."
It's true: Josiane is in her final year now, with intentions to study further after she graduates. It's a point of contention between her and your mother, who would prefer her to move to one of the palaces with her fiancée and marry as soon as possible; still, she's happy for now.
Oh! Goodness," Hyacinthe says. "I hope everything's all right."
Hyacinthe moves the conversation along gently, asking you about yourself and how you're enjoying Archambault; she asks Asher the same, and Asher enthusiastically tells her about life at the school. As a waiter comes to top up your glass, you realize: Hyacinthe is a warm conversationalist, but she barely talks about herself. You know she is a dancer, of course, and that she would like to continue down that path, but little else. Anytime she could go deeper into her own life, she deftly turns the conversation back toward you, Asher, and your family.
You share a few choice anecdotes about your classmates and the teachers, and how Vere glares at Dominique in Natural Science classes. Hyacinthe's laughter is a little guilty, but laughter nonetheless.
"I hope all the teachers are treating you properly," she says. "Not just because of you being royal, though that's obviously the important thing, but you're new, too."
She leans forward and lowers her voice as though worried about being overheard.
"I confess I'm a little intimidated by Mr. Griffith," she says. "He's so severe! I've only ever seen him smile twice. Maybe three times, but Trevelyan said that was just him about to sneeze."
Hyacinthe smiles bashfully. "Oh, you're too kind," she says, but she looks very pleased indeed.
She smiles at you suddenly, her whole face lighting up.
"It's really very nice to get to spend time with you," she says. "Thank you."
Hyacinthe looks abashed. "Well. I'm very pleased nonetheless," she says in her customary careful tone. "But I suppose, yes, we should turn in. It's a long journey, and I think I heard Lord Haberlin say it was an early start."
When you and Asher rise, Hyacinthe does the same and curtseys deeply, wishing you a pleasant night. You return to your room and settle down. Asher has already prepared their couch. Soon, you hear their breathing deepen, and shortly after, you are asleep, too.
Next
The following morning, you return to Archambault Academy by carriage and rail. It's mid-afternoon by the time you arrive, with little time for class, so Clemence sends you and the rest of Vercher House off to the mews to check on the birds.
"Part of your time here," Clemence says, "is to learn responsibility and care for your animals."
"That means, you, too, Dominique," Vere adds sharply. "You spoil that owl of yours."
Dominique trails after you and the others, muttering something about Lightning enjoying snacks.
The others busy themselves in the neighboring cages. Dominique seems to be trying to get his Lightning to do a trick, but from his frustrated tone, it's not going well. Beaumont, on the other hand, easily carries Patch out on his fist; Javi follows, murmuring something complimentary to Silver, her kestrel. You've rarely seen Silver do anything in classes other than occasionally fly to a tree and sit there sunning himself, but Javi seems very fond of him.
You bring . out to the field and toss a scented lure for her. She wheels and dives enthusiastically, returning back and forth faster and faster.
The wind grows more insistent, whipping your coat against your legs, and Dominique watches you curiously.
"How on earth did you find such a nice falcon?"
Dominique's brown eyes sparkle with his smile. "Well, you got the good end of that deal."
Your sister didn't have the time or energy to look after ., and was growing more and more worried. Your mother noticed, of course, and sat the two of you down to discuss it. . could either go elsewhere, or you could keep her.
It was an easy choice. You already knew that you got on well; Josiane was relieved to still have the chance to play with her when she had the chance.
"I'm glad it worked out that way," you say, and Dominique nods.
"Of course! She's a darling," he says.
Once your hands are too cold for you to want to be out much longer, you return to the mews and put . in her cage, where she settles happily.
Next
The weeks continue, and your classes roll onward. You do find yourself struggling to keep up with the others in class sometimes; it's not always easy to bring the right answer to mind before someone else does.
You spend a little more time listening rather than talking, and absorbing all the little details that make up people's social circles. It's all useful for putting away for when you need to deal with the wider world later; in practice, you can apply it all to other situations outside school.
But soon, the Winter Ball is the one thing anyone talks about. During one afternoon, a snowfall begins, disturbing a Politics lesson as everyone flocks to the window to look out.
"Now, now," Clemence says, without much conviction; they look as delighted by the snow as the rest of the group.
The lesson breaks up shortly afterwards. You and the class emerge into a flurry of snow. Dominique scuffs his boot, frowning. "How are we supposed to supervise the ball supplies coming in when it's like this?"
Javi looks up into the sky. Flakes fall onto her cheeks and she laughs, rubbing them away. "How can you not like this? It's so beautiful!"