The soft creak of the carriage's wheels turning over the dirt path was the only sound between them for a long while.
The air inside the cabin felt heavy, thick with the kind of quiet that invited thoughts too loud to ignore. Q sat with her bag clutched tightly on her lap, her fingers twisted into the fraying strap like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. She stared out the window, her gaze fixed on the familiar fields shrinking into the distance, the golden light of late afternoon painting the horizon in soft, dusky hues.
Professor Ligarius broke the silence first.
His voice, calm and measured as always, filled the small space like a steadying hand.
"How are you feeling, Miss Q?"
The question caught her off guard. She blinked, her reflection in the glass blurring as her thoughts scattered. Her lips parted, ready to answer, but no words came out. Instead, her breath hitched, and before she could stop herself, a soft sniffle escaped. Her throat tightened, the ache spreading fast and fierce, until the tears came spilling over, hot and messy.
"I don't know," she managed, her voice trembling as she wiped at her face with the back of her sleeve. "I don't know what I'm feeling."
And it was true. She didn't. Her chest felt like it was splitting open, her heart too full of things she couldn't untangle. It was like trying to hold water in her hands, slipping through her fingers faster than she could grasp it. Happy. Guilty. Sad. Hopeful. All of it churned together, too much and not enough all at once.
"I'm happy," she said, though the tears kept falling. "Happy I get to leave the farm. Happy I get to… to have a chance at something better. To be with Maddy again."
Her voice cracked on the last word, and she sniffled harder, her sleeve damp with tears.
"But I'm… I'm sad too. And I feel… awful, like I'm leaving somethin' behind I shouldn't. My parents, they don't get this. They're stuck there, workin' the farm, and I—"
She broke off, pressing her hands to her face as another sob tore through her.
"I don't even know if I deserve it."
The words sat heavy in the air, the weight of them pressing into her chest. She thought of her father, ruffling her hair without looking at her, his voice quiet when he told her to do good. She thought of her mother's sharp words and the way her hands always seemed too busy to be gentle. They weren't perfect. They weren't even kind most days. But they were hers.
And now she was leaving them behind.
Professor Ligarius let the silence linger, giving her space to collect herself. When he spoke again, his voice was low and even, a steady rhythm in the storm of her thoughts.
"What you are feeling is normal, Miss Q. Change is never easy, even when it is for the better."
She lowered her hands, her tear-streaked face turned toward him, searching for something in his expression. He met her gaze without flinching, his sharp gray eyes softened by something she couldn't quite name.
"Your feelings do not diminish the worth of what you are stepping into," he continued. "It is natural to mourn what you leave behind, even if it is not a life you wish to return to. But the question is not how you feel now."
He leaned forward slightly, his tone shifting, weightier.
"It is what you intend to do next."
Q blinked at him, his words cutting through the tangled mess of her thoughts. She sniffled, this time quieter, and let herself think. Really think. About the way her father's voice had sounded when he told her to never come back, low and firm, as though the words had been resting heavy on his tongue for years. About her mother's hands, trembling just so when she poured the water, though she'd kept her gaze sharp and distant, never once meeting Q's eyes.
They hadn't said much, but the weight of what they had said sat heavy in her chest, sharp and unshakable.
"I want to do good," she said at last, her voice trembling but no longer breaking. She curled her hands in her lap to stop the shaking, her nails digging into the callused skin of her palms. "I want to make it… worth it. Worth all of it."
Professor Ligarius nodded once, the faintest hint of approval flickering across his face.
"Then start there." he said simply.
The carriage slowed to a smooth stop, the pristine spires of RAPS towering above them, their white stone glowing faintly in the early evening light. Q stared up at the school, her heart thudding loud and heavy in her chest. It looked different this time, sharper, brighter, more untouchable somehow. She barely noticed the staff waiting at the edge of the courtyard until the door of the carriage opened, and a man in a crisp uniform extended his hand toward her.
Q hesitated, glancing down at her boots. They were scuffed and still streaked with dirt from the farm, and her hand felt clammy and small when she placed it in his. But he didn't flinch, didn't so much as glance at her appearance as he helped her down, his movements brisk and efficient. Another uniformed staff member took her bag, handling it like it was far more precious than it had any right to be.
"Where… where am I stayin'?" Q asked as she followed Professor Ligarius across the courtyard. The smooth cobblestones gleamed under the fading sunlight, so clean they made her feel like her every step left a smudge behind. "Could I maybe stay close to where Maddy is? Or—or even be her roommate?"
At that, Ligarius stopped mid-step. He turned to face her, his expression as sharp and unreadable as always, though there was the faintest flicker of something behind his eyes—exasperation, maybe, or perhaps just patience stretched thin.
"You misunderstand," he said evenly, his voice cutting through the stillness of the courtyard. "You are not here as a Princess candidate. You are here to train as a Lady in Waiting. Your accommodations will not be in the same building, let alone the same dormitory."
Q blinked at him, the words tumbling around her head like loose stones.
"But… why not?" Q asked, her frown deepening. "I mean, I don't see why it'd be a problem if—"
"Because your roles are fundamentally different," Professor Ligarius cut in, his tone firm but not harsh. He stopped mid-step and turned to face her fully, his gray eyes narrowing just enough to make her falter. "You are here to train as a Lady in Waiting, Miss Q. Your purpose is to serve, to support, and to act with discretion and decorum. Sharing quarters with a Princess candidate does not align with that purpose."
His words landed heavy, like stones dropping into still water. The straight lines of his posture, the measured cadence of his speech—everything about him seemed carved from marble in that moment, unyielding and certain. Q's cheeks burned hot under his gaze, and she glanced down at the hem of her skirt, her hands fidgeting with the worn fabric.
"Discretion and decorum," she muttered, her voice low and edged with frustration. "Not like I was gonna tell her secrets or mess up her things."
"It is not about secrets or messes," Ligarius replied, his tone growing sharper. "It is about understanding your place and the responsibilities that come with it. You have much to learn, Miss Q, and little time to waste on childish notions of comfort."
Q's head snapped up, her mouth opening to argue, but the words died in her throat when she saw the way he was looking at her—not unkindly, but with a patience that seemed stretched to its limit.
He sighed softly, then added, "I suggest you begin with the book I provided this morning. It contains everything you need to know about your role and your training."
Her confusion deepened.
"Wait," she said, tilting her head. "The book's already in my room?"
"Correct," Ligarius answered, his tone smoothing back into calm. "One of the staff ensured it was placed there before your arrival for both of you to use."
Something in the way he said it made her brow furrow. She narrowed her eyes at him, suspicion creeping into her voice.
"Hold on. You said my room, but you also said something about 'both.' What's that supposed to mean?"
Ligarius hesitated for just a fraction of a second, his gaze flicking toward the building ahead of them. It was a simple structure compared to the grandeur of the Princesses' quarters, its white stone walls unadorned and practical, the windows smaller and less ornate. When he spoke again, his voice was deliberate, the weight of his words palpable.
"You will be sharing your room, Miss Q," he said, "Sharing it with your fellow Lady-in-Waiting trainee. This is not a solitary endeavor, Miss Q. You are here to learn alongside others."