Chapter 46– Hera

Chapter 45– Hera
I take a moment to just breeze through it, skimming along glossy, magazine-grade pages dedicated to giving information about the college’s faculties and facilities. A list of lecturers with their departments and passport photographs occupy about ten pages and another eight have aerial captures of different parts of the place. I flip to the back where there is another bold “Kingsland Academy" header like the one on the first page sitting comfortably to the center right. I’m reading the contact information right under it for want of something to do when my gaze strays to the varsity’s motto.

‘Pulvis et umbra sumus.’

The latin equivalent of "we are but dust and shadow–” I lean back against my headboard as the words breeze from my lips like a whispered secret. “Dust and shadow. How… gothic,” I continue, thoughtful.

Astrid turns to me, distracted from her task of keeping up-to-date with the latest of celebrity gossip and entertainment news online. “Is it just me or will Kingsland Academy be the perfect fit for you?" She asks. “You already seem to like the place."

“I don't know,” I answer truthfully.

"Nah, I'm sure they had you at ‘latin motto with a potent capacity to alienate the exceptionally uneducated but no real world implications.’”

I roll my eyes, unable to suppress my amusement. "Latin quotes always have real-life significance, you uncultured asparagus."

This makes her break into more sniggers. "Why asparagus?”

“For instance," I say, ignoring her, “the maxim in question describes the tragic, fleeting nature of human existence; urges people to value life as it is but temporary."

“Well that took a morbid turn in less than three seconds.” She supports the statement with a look like she foresaw it. “You will have such a blast at Kingsland, I know it. I already see high arches, centuries-old renaissance lecture halls and hours pondering the meaning of life in your future. You want to become this generation’s reincarnation of Shakespeare? Well Kingsland’s your incubation chamber.”

I grin and shake my head, slip the booklet back into my bag. “My family won't let me become a writer no matter what. I am being groomed to become a lawyer like my parents because while legal knowledge benefits the North Family Estates and finances spread across Europe and America, a degree in English literature does not.”

"Yeah, but from what you've told me, Kingsland is offering you a scholarship which you can use to study any course of your choice. You wouldn't need your extended family’s help if you accept it."

“For the first few months, yes. Past that, after I am disowned and cut off from funding for every other thing I might need– like proper lodging, feeding, a wardrobe, writing materials and textbooks– I will have to go crawling back to the scorpions of relatives that I have been cursed with, which will lead to Scenario One– doing law.” The sigh that escapes my lips sounds like it couldn't wait to be rid of me. “And since I don't have access to my trust fund until I'm twenty one, this means I’d be rendered destitute with no alternative means of livelihood if I decide to revolt. In summary, I can't survive without my family’s money."

Could I also get a job? Yes. But even Astrid knows how addicted I am to comfort. She doesn't need to be told.

“So you study law then," she concludes.

“Only for a few years. I will quit eventually when I am able to access my trust fund."

She laughs. “You fucking strategist."

I’m grinning like a maniac as I shrug. “And why not? It's the only good thing I learned from my extended family– cunning."

I pull my notes out to do a bit of studying, trying my hardest to ignore my phone. I've been watching the device, waiting for a text from Czar– any acknowledgement whatsoever that he has seen the pictorial messages I sent his way– but it's been ten minutes and nothing has happened. Unable to bear it anymore I pick the thing up and scroll over to our chat. There, I see that he has already viewed the last image I sent– the signifier is glaring– which incenses me even more because the chat is still blank. No words, no letter by crow, no nothing. He's… ignoring me?

Miss Dangereuse: Mr Detective.

Lone Wolf: Yes, Enchantress?

Miss Dangereuse: If I didn't know better I would think you were avoiding me.

Lone Wolf: And what gives you that idea?

Miss Dangereuse: You know, nothing… except that you've ignored my last two texts.

Lone Wolf: I was a little busy when the first one came in. I guess I forgot to drop a response. As for the second… Well I saw your desperation and wanted to revel in it. Did you miss me that much, Ice Queen? I'm sure you insisted you would send just one picture over.

I feel like smacking myself in the face right now.

Of course he would pick up on that singular detail. Czar is a whole different breed. This is exactly what I was trying to tell Astrid. If only she listened.

Miss Dangereuse: Fuck you.

Lone Wolf: I’ve thought of it a number of times– one too many times than is good for me if I'm being honest. It seemed like mere lust then. Now that you're insisting though, it feels like divine design…

I can feel the smirk that is most probably on his face all the way from here. It annoys the hell out of me.