The Princess and The Thorne, Chapter Eleven: Faced toward the Future
With all the fuss around Annick Leuzinger and Gaspard Breiner, Ras barely remembered that exam results were due. The morning before everybody returned for the Summer Term, a thin envelope arrived with her breakfast.
She read down the page, where the results from her classes had been listed and combined into a single grade: A+. The best she could’ve done. She had a sinking suspicion that the “assistance” she provided to Lady Renaldt bolstered her marks a little.
Still, there was no time to be complacent. By the time the Graduation Ball was here, her fortunes could well have taken a turn for the worst.
That afternoon, the carriages rumbled outside and students began to flood the college once more. The noise and bustle was even more intense since all the final-years were comparing their exam marks, commiserating and celebrating.
Gonzalez was hangdog, having got a D for her efforts—though, she said ruefully, hopefully she’ll pick up some improvements in Athletics. Hartmann was unusually relaxed and said, with a real smile, that she got an A. She hugged Ras, thanking her for the help.
Max and Delacroix stayed with Delacroix’s parents over Verdancy—”which was horrible,” Max said cheerfully, “but it meant I could distract her parents from being the awful people they are—and both were in decent spirits. Max got a D overall, but is putting on a determinedly disinterested pose. Delacroix got a C; though she didn’t seem to care much.
Over the holiday, Freddie’s mother had an injury while she was home, but Freddie had been able to help around the house. When discussing grades, she looked resolute, and told Ras she got a B. “It’s fine,” she said. “I can bring it up higher with my coursework.”
Ras was just pleased she was able to help in some capacity with Hartmann, as well as fulfill her own potential this year.
Her classmates were still discussing the exams the next day at breakfast, going over what they remembered of the papers in minute detail, speculating about how to appeal the results, and worrying over what it meant for the future. At the teachers’ table, Lady Renaldt was talking quietly with Mr. Griffith and Mr. Blanchard, examining the morning paper.
Lady Renaldt beckoned Ras over. “Thank you for your assistance, Master Thorne, in dealing with that unfortunate journalism incident,” she said, putting venom in the way she said “journalism” as though it were an unsightly disease. “All is resolved.”
The newspaper was spread out on the table before her. From a tiny editor’s note, Ras saw that Annick Leuzinger had left the Gallatin Times for pastures new. All, apparently, was indeed resolved.
Ras’ shoulders only grew heavier, and she knew that her sins had only increased over Verdancy. She took a deep breath.
“Well,” she began, carefully, “at least she can’t publish her lies anymore. Good riddance.”
Lady Renaldt sipped her tea, before offering Ras a genuine smile, her eyes sparkling. She knew how heavily this weighed on Ras, and she relished it. Ras wanted to smack her then and there. “Oh, you needn’t worry about that,” she said. “I don’t think she’ll be finding any newspaper jobs anytime soon. Word gets around.”
A pause.
“You may return to your bench,” Lady Renaldt said kindly. “Enjoy your breakfast.”
Soon, it was time for the first lesson of the day, though Ras’ mind was anywhere but class.
With the warmer weather, summer storms arrived. Etiquette classes turned to instructions about dealing with soaked clothes and puddles; one afternoon in Arts, a dramatic thunderstorm punctuated the monotonous conversation about sonnets.
The storm raged for half an hour, with Mr. Griffith growing increasingly irritated at the noise. In the end, he ended class early—albeit with a huge pile of prep that saw Ras and her fellows working even after dinner, when the light had begun to fade.
As Ras left the prep room, Freddie caught her in the corridor. “Lucien’s running a university application session tonight,” she said. “It won’t be long till we do the official applications, so we’re going to get a head start. Come on!”
Ras was dragged by Freddie to the library, where Lucien and the rest of the Birchmeier Society were waiting, huddled at a table laden with papers, pamphlets, and heavy books.
Ras snorted. “You lot look like you could use a break.”
Lucien bristled. “No time for that,” he said. “Come and sit.”
Lucien nudged a couple of chairs out for her and Freddie, and the pair settled down. Freddie shuffled one of the piles of paper over to her, frowning at the tiny print; she was focusing on scholarship funds to afford getting into Gessner University.
As for Ras, she had plenty of ways to prove herself to the admissions tutors ahead of the rest of the college.
“How about…” Ras said, “we pull together? If we do that, we can use each other’s knowledge. That’s what the Society’s all about, ain’t it?”
Lucien looked a bit disgruntled at Ras taking charge, but he nodded along with Freddie. “Good idea, Ras,” Freddie said. “We should be helping each other out.”
Comparing notes made the whole thing go more quickly; they unearthed advice from admissions tutors that would help smooth over rough edges in the applications.
The others, however, were not doing so well. Lucien, for one, was struggling; Freddie lost her previous energy, and was slumped in her seat doodling on a piece of paper.
Ras groaned, and set about helping the others, pulling them out of their malaise. “Chins up, nerds,” she said. “I’m done with my forms, so I’ll give you a hand.”
Lucien groaned, but he roused himself regardless of his grumbling, and he helped Ras encourage the others to keep at it. Freddie perked up too, and as they dispersed, the group had been in higher spirits.
“You know,” Freddie said as she and Ras made their way back to their dorm, “it would’ve been a real let-down without you around to keep everybody in high spirits. Thanks, Ras.”
Ras shook her head, flopping face first onto the bed with a groan. “It was nothing,” she muffled into her pillow, before continuing in a teasing tone, “but now you and Lucien owe me.”
Freddie giggled at that, and soon the day was over. The term, however, only continued.
Finally, the storms calmed. The sunshine beat down, and the windows of classrooms and common rooms alike were flung open to allow in the warm breeze.
Lady Renaldt, however, did not brook much relaxation. A meeting in the Philosophy classroom was held directly after breakfast one morning, only for the final-years. Hartmann sat perfectly still with her hands neatly folded in her lap, only briefly catching Ras’ eye.
“Next month,” Lady Renaldt began, “engagement season begins. Our students make prestigious matches, and, as always, I expect you to fulfill your potential.”
A ripple of mingled anxiety and excitement passed through the room, but Lady Renaldt waved everybody quiet.
“Before then,” she said, “you will write your applications to university, if you intend to go, and make plans for after graduation. Or to make some manner of…other career, if you have no plans.”
The narrowing of her eyes when she said “other career” made it all too obvious what she thought of that. She nodded to Mr. Blanchard, who handed out sets of pamphlets.
“As well as university, there are two internships available,” Lady Renaldt said. “Beatrix Wahner, a former Gallatin student, is traveling across Jezhan doing archaelogical research and requires an assistant. And the art critic Jerome Clay is looking for an assistant in his gallery. If you are interested, ask Mr. Blanchard for more information.”
Before Ras were several pamphlets. At the top was Gessner University, the topmost academic institution in Westerlin—and amongst the top in the world—but there was a booklet from Reisinger University too. That was less prestigious, but perhaps more accessible.
The internships were obviously going to be hard to get, since only a single student could get one, but it would be a different experience for Ras. Hells, if she wanted it, she figured her track record could get her a job at Gallatin.
Or, perhaps, none of it caught her eye.
Not in the slightest. Ras knew exactly what she wanted to do. She stood up, and she approached Lady Renaldt.
“I’m interested in teaching here,” she said. “Could you tell me how I can go about doing that?”
Lady Renaldt’s eyes gleamed as she offered a brisk smile to Ras. Was that surprise? Whatever it was, it was gone, replaced with her usual insincere smile, as cold as ice. “How interesting,” she said. “Well. Good coursework and exam grades would be desirable, of course, and a reliable reputation. Or if one of the teachers gave you a character reference, I’d consider it.”
Ras met her eye. “Call it a favor.”
Lady Renaldt’s smile widened, a grin that gave Ras the impression that she’d just signed her death warrant and that Lady Renaldt was impressed with her.
“Then consider your application approved. I’ll write an acceptance letter that you’ll see tomorrow. I look forward to your continued contribution to Gallatin, Master Thorne.”
The waiting made the days feel like weeks, though soon enough Ras received a formal letter from Lady Renaldt in response to her “application”.
‘To the esteemed Ras Thorne,
As a student of good standing, excellent coursework, remarkable exam scores, as well as the addition of your good standing with the teachers and students of Gallatin alike, we feel you will fit in as a teacher.
As such, we are pleased to offer you this opportunity, and look forward to seeing you as part of Gallatin staff in the near future.
Respectfully,
Lady Françoise Renaldt, Gallatin Headmistress.’
An acceptance. Not that she had any doubt, with the stunt she pulled. Mr. Blanchard offered Ras a pleased nod while, around her, others tore their letters opened.
As for the rest of her classmates, their own plans were falling into place—for most of them, at least. One evening prep session became an unofficial opportunity for people to tell each other about their fortunes; Mr. Blanchard did not appear to care, and let them chat as they wished, reading a book as the light faded. Gonzalez was set to attend Reisinger University to play lacrosse. “I don’t know what my parents will say,” she said, “but it’s what I want.”
Hartmann was offered a place at Gessner University, and she caught Ras’ eye with an unusually steely look. “My parents thought I couldn’t get in, so it wasn’t worth applying,” she said. “But I did it anyway.”
She smiled, sipping her tea, and whispering only audibly enough for Ras to hear. “Fuck ‘em.”
Ras grinned at that, and Hartmann continued. “I’ll write, of course,” she said, worry in her voice.
Ras rolled her eyes. “Please, is writing all you’ll do? We’re best friends, Hartmann! You bet your ass I’m going to visit you from time to time!”
Hartmann snickered at that. “You’re right, you’re right.”
Max groaned theatrically, flicking a scrap of paper at Ras and Hartmann both. In a stroke of fortune, or bribery, she’d been accepted into Reisinger University. Max herself seemed surprised that she’d even applied.
Ras grinned. “Oh, did the church placement not work out, Sister Maxine?”
Max shot Ras a look. “Listen here, cake-seller. Keep on like that, and you’ll be lucky I even look at your letters if you decide to write me.”
Ras put her hand to her chest. “Max! I’m hurt! I thought we were friends!”
“Like I’d be friends with a teacher at Gallatin, of all places!” Max shot back, a teasing grin on her face.
“That said,” Ras sighed, leaning against Max. “We’ll stay in touch, yeah?”
Max ruffled Ras’ hair, still grinning. “Of course we will, nerd,” she said. “You ain’t gotta worry about that.”
Freddie, meanwhile, was at a loss for words, in a baffled daze. She had been accepted into Gessner University, and occasionally took her letter out to read it again and again, as if making sure it was real. “We’ll keep in contact, too, obviously,” she said fiercely. “I’m not going to lose touch with you, any of you, not in a million years.”
Max threw an arm around Freddie in a hug, ruffling her hair as well.
“I’m looking forward ‘ta spreading my wings,” Ras said, and Freddie beamed in response.
“It’s like a dream…” She muttered, and even Max nodded along.
Delacroix, on the other hand, did not have anything concrete in place, though apparently she’d been encouraged to apply to Reisinger. She said little, but met Ras’ eye and nudged her foot under the table. “Well done,” she muttered.
“You feelin’ alright?” Ras asked, frowning.
Delacroix gave a one-shouldered shrug. “It’s just strange thinking that we’ll be away from here, soon, you know?”
Between commiserations and excitement, little prep—or indeed classwork—got done in the next week. Soon, the dust settled.
The anticipating and intensity of the university and internship applications faded. Lazy sunny afternoons lounging on the quadrangle lawn, desultory strolls around the lake, gentle rides around the grounds…Ras took in the sights of Gallatin college, and she felt as if the days could last forever.
Then, a new challenge on the horizon.
Engagement season, at last, was here.
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