St Kevin’s handed out freedom with the benevolence and stinginess of a Fairy Godmother. Just enough to silence the brooding teen, never enough to do anything meaningful.

  Most students could probably grab a latte, a real meal, maybe a pair of shoes before the magic wore off at precisely… 6 p.m., dinnertime.

  Tomato, tomahto.

  The Fairy Godmother’s version of trust came in the form of strictly scheduled outings: bi-monthly town excursions for juniors, bi-weekly for seniors.

  “More responsibility” supposedly equalled “more freedom,” they said, with pride.

  In reality it translated to exactly one hundred and twenty minutes of leash, generous only if you pretended not to notice the students who never returned and the distinct lack of a Prince Charming.

  Princess Charming however...

  Eydis glanced outside from her bus window seat and spotted Astra strolling toward their yellow chariot, predictably late, predictably unbothered.

  While the students were required to wear their uniforms during the town trip, Astra, as ever, played by her own rules. Denim jacket, black choker. Fashion statement or a rebellion so smooth it was criminal? With her, it was always both.

  Eydis felt a sudden pang of—

  Not a word, Envy.

  It's not envious you're feeling—

  Envy’s voice fizzled as she shifted back to more pressing matters.

  Today’s trip was different. Firstly, Astra joined them, and that was no accident. Eydis believed nothing her roommate had ever done was accidental. She was remarkably efficient.

  Secondly, she might gain some insights on that elusive familiar who operated outside the academy’s walls. Failing that, retail therapy would do.

  Pressing her forehead to the cool glass, she revisited her plan. Envy would seek for her shadows while she pursued a mission of far greater urgency: new contact lenses, purely practical of course. No vanity involved.

  None.

  She nudged her glasses back into place, only for them to slide down again.

  Utility, she reminded herself, not vanity.

  Red hair flashed at the edge of her vision. Josiah—yes, that was it—the boy who always looked like he’d eaten something spicy and was waiting for the consequences. Someone really should introduce him to the concept of fiber. Or laxative.

  “Uh, hey, is this seat taken?” he asked her.

  “Jeremiah, all seats reserved.”

  “Actually, it’s Jo—”

  One arched brow ended the conversation. Sure enough, Josianwhatever got the message and made a hasty retreat to the back of the bus.

  Disappointing.

  Usually, Eydis wasn’t alone on these trips to town. Either Natalia or the Koala Twins tagged along. If Natalia was involved, she would be dragged (enthusiastically, of course) from one cheese shop to the next.

  The girl ate like a bull, yet somehow, the Koala Twins never seemed to question how she maintained a physique that was anything but Gifted.

  Today the human golden retriever was probably training, fuelled by volcanic grit and an alarming marshmallow intake. Disturbing. Fire-affinity metabolism, maybe; a curse, more likely.

  A… curse?

  She couldn’t dwell on it when dark oak and cardamom reached her, the perfume so startlingly good, so familiar that Eydis’s head jerked up on instinct.

  Astra stood in the aisle before her.

  Eydis, ever graceful, nearly elbowed the armrest. "Roommate by misfortune, babysitter by even greater misfortune, I presume?"

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  "Limited seating," Astra deadpanned. She lingered, awkward in a way that almost made Eydis smile.

  Astra flicked her gaze toward the back of the bus, where the only open seat was next to Jo-sephina, who was now practically folding himself in half to make room, grinning like a lovesick puppy, clearly eagerly waiting for her.

  Astra reluctantly eyed the empty seat beside Eydis.

  “This seat appears mysteriously unclaimed by perpetually scowling girls with tragic social skills,” Eydis said, patting the cushion. “What’s the hold-up? I thought we bonded last night.”

  "Unclaimed? Even with your ego taking up half the bus?” Astra said, amusement flickering before the scowl reset. “And bonded?”

  Eydis’s grinned. “Reservations can be revoked. My ego is extremely flexible, Your Highness of Grumpiness. Especially after the unforgettable… physical affection you subjected me to last night.”

  A wave of unnatural silence smothered the bus. Heads spun with reckless disregard for neck safety. Teenagers. Nosy. Predictable.

  Astra’s ears flushed, clashing magnificently with silver hair; Eydis almost wanted the scene framed.

  Perfect. She’d meant to annoy Astra enough to make her leave. Instead, Astra dropped into the seat beside her with a thud and an even louder huff.

  Eydis sighed internally. The Ice Princess it was.

  The bus rumbled forward. Cardamom, engine hum, and exhaustion coaxed Eydis into a light doze.

  For a moment, she was somewhere else, where soft murmurs tickled her ears, where warm arms wrapped around her shoulders. Her own fingers combed through silky black hair.

  That was… just a little too much contact for her taste, given who she was. What was this peculiar dream?

  A nudge pulled her back. She jolted awake, nose inches from Astra’s crimson stare.

  "Did I fall asleep on you?" she mumbled, expecting the Astra’s usual scowl.

  Astra’s mouth curved, almost gentle. “No, I simply enjoy sitting perfectly still while someone drools on me.”

  “I don’t drool,” Eydis protested. Had she stumbled into an alternate universe? Wouldn’t be the first time.

  Astra gave her a pointed look.

  Eydis narrowed her eyes. “You’re awfully chatty today. Are you possessed?”

  “You’re more tolerable when unconscious, by the way,” Astra said, rising from her seat.

  “Flattery and conversation? Careful, people might start thinking you like me.” Eydis couldn’t hold back a smile. “Now, would Your Grumpiness be so kind as to—”

  “No.” Yet a corner of Astra’s lips lifted before she walked off the bus.

  Eydis watched her go, smiling as she hefted her bag. A quick glance around revealed the bus seemed to have emptied for a while.

  How long had Astra been sitting still for Eydis? Warmth crept through her somehow, but Eydis chalked it up to an emotion stirred by that bizzare dream.

  The nearest town to St Kevin’s could have been clipped from a travel brochure. Narrow, single-lane streets were lined with white-washed cottages, slow jazz drifting from upstairs windows, the smell of espresso pooled in every laneway. The CBD was four hours away, but for now, this slice of charm would do nicely.

  A delivery truck thundered past, shoving a gust ahead that sent dry leaves, startled caterpillars and more dust than anyone deserved spinning down the street.

  Fortunately, Eydis’s glasses saved her eyes. Unfortunately, they didn’t save her nose.

  Scowling, she tugged her green blazer straight and ducked into the first café she saw. Despite the nearing closing hour, the place was buzzing with mostly grey-haired retirees. Natalia called this their “office hour.”

  Eydis claimed a table, tasted her latte, and exhaled. Real coffee at last instead of that foul, brown broth at St. Kevin’s.

  One glance in the café window and Eydis winced. Red-rimmed eyes stared back, courtesy of too little sleep and an optician who thought “contact-lens fitting” meant light torture.

  "Two more visits," the quack had chirped, "and then maybe we'll talk about a prescription!"

  Eydis had smiled sweetly and activated Plan A: a conjured serpent masquerading as a very convincing brown viper. The optician had bolted with surprising speed, leaving her ample time to “borrow” a handful of trial lenses from his unattended case.

  I must say, Your Majesty, dragging me into scare tactics is beneath my station, Envy huffed in the back of her mind.

  The purse-decorator position is still accepting applications, Eydis retorted.

  Envy grumbled.

  Find anything suspicious? she asked.

  Nothing odd in town so far, but I did spend a concerning amount of time avoiding your roommate.

  What’s wrong? Afraid she might strangle you?

  Only one creature in existence terrifies me, and unfortunately, I work for her.

  Eydis smirked and turned to watch the holographic news feed. An anchor interviewed a man in a charcoal suit. With neatly combed blond hair and attentive green eyes, he looked like Tiffany, minus the leopard-print obsession.

  “Sir Thomas, why run for Senate this year?”

  Thomas breathed in, out. “Tiffany... My daughter.”

  The anchor inclined her head with sympathy. “We understand she remains in a coma. Our thoughts are with your family during this difficult time.”

  “If I can make the city she loved a better place… perhaps she’ll wake to see it.” His voice cracked on cue. A single tear caught the light before he blinked it away.

  Eydis arched a brow, barely suppressing the urge to applaud. For a girl like Tiffany—Tiffany, who hoarded validation like air, who burned with envy over things she couldn’t hold? As if.

  She hadn’t known he was running for… whatever that was. The students at St. Kevin’s had little interest in politics unless it involved a scandal, a breakup, or a cheating rumour.

  So Eydis did the logical thing.

  She pulled out her phone, opened Tweeter, and searched the election hashtags.

  Immediate regret.

  The flood of unsolicited nudity that assaulted her royal eyes was proof enough that the platform’s filter had long since given up. No wonder she'd abandoned it.

  Chatter from across the café stole her attention.

  “Thomas is ahead.”

  “Another Blackwood? Fantastic. Because billionaires definitely care about us.”

  “It’s rigged. That family bleeds us dry.”

  “But… his daughter…”

  Eydis had already tuned it out, having heard enough. Thomas’s inexplicable rise and the fact that Tiffany’s missing associates had political ties.

  The Blackwoods. Again. They were always at the center of the rot.

  And if she had to bet, a certain missing familiar with a taste for chessboard games and manipulation was right where it wanted to be.