And so began Milly’s battle with her own stomach, a struggle as fierce as any she had faced.
In first period’s flight training, where even the slightest movement might have sent her stomach rebelling, Milly ended up looking uncannily steady, her refusal to so much as twitch mistaken for flawless balance. In potion studies, where the acrid smell of chemicals threatened to overwhelm her, she clamped her nose shut with a clothespin to block out the stench.
At lunch she took nothing but a single glass of water, keeping as still as possible. Thanks to those desperate measures, she managed to see the day’s lessons through without incident.
Friends... Allies... Admiring glances! Her stomach still churned with cream, but at least she would be able to attend the student council meeting. The council chamber is on the third floor, isn’t it? I’d better hurry.
Unfolding a mental map as she walked the hall alone, Milly suddenly thrust a hand backward without warning.
“Ah,” came a voice behind her.
“Oh. It’s only you, Gilbert.”
When she turned, she found her hand gripping Gilbert’s; he had just been about to tap her shoulder. Releasing him, she spoke in a tone of mild reproach. “If you need me, call out. Don’t go poking me.”
“R-Right. How did you know I was there?”
“I sensed it.”
Her simple reply made Gilbert narrow his eyes in thought.
It was a kind of talent she had always possessed. For some reason, Milly had been attuned to others’ presence since childhood. In hide-and-seek she was unbeatable, to the point of reducing Gilbert to tears more than once with her uncanny ability. It was only natural she would notice someone approaching from behind.
“So, what did you want?”
“Oh, nothing in particular. I just thought we could walk together. You’re heading to the council chamber, aren’t you?”
With practiced courtesy, Gilbert steered Milly to his side, moving with a poise that made it hard to believe he was the same boy who had once cried through games of hide-and-seek.
“By the way, where’s Lucius?” Gilbert asked. “He’s a council member too, after all.”
“He was summoned by a teacher. He dozed off in class and got a thorough scolding.”
“Will he be all right?”
Probably not, Milly thought, but aloud, she said, “Who knows? According to him, as long as he isn’t expelled, he’s winning.”
“Milly, you really ought to reconsider the company you keep.”
Lucius could be surprisingly dependable in his own way, but it seemed his standing with the second prince was far from stellar. Gilbert leaned in with unusual intensity. “Listen to me. Don’t let that fellow gull you.”
“Huh?”
“If he tries to butter you up, don’t go along with it. That’s his tactic.”
“What exactly do you mean?” Milly felt as though she were sitting through some kind of crime-prevention lecture.
Gilbert flinched.
“Ah, w-well, complimenting your hair, or saying you look like some kind of fairy.”
“I see. And what else?”
“Wh-What else, you ask?! He... He might say you smell delightful, or...or even send you poetry?”
It was such a laughably old-fashioned sort of romantic notion that Milly couldn’t help but smirk. “Are you certain that’s not something you would do, Gilbert?”
“Excuse me?!”
His face flushed crimson at once, and Milly burst out laughing.
Realizing he was being teased, Gilbert snapped back, eyes flashing. “I’m merely trying to look out for you!”
Milly chuckled. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“A-Anyway! All I’m saying is, be careful dealing with Lucius.”
“Yes, yes. I’ll be sure to return any poetry he sends me unread.”
“Milly!”
The way he said her name, almost pleading, made her laugh aloud again. For all the world’s talk of the second prince as charming and refined, to Milly he was still the same boy who had been so easy to tease ten years ago.
I’m glad Gilbert’s on the council too.
Ever since they’d spoken again the other day, his tendency to hover had been a little much, but with him around, she wouldn’t feel so out of place. She was even tempted to share with him the ace up her sleeve: the location of the capital’s very best dessert shop.
“Tell me, Gilbert, have you any interest in custard tarts?”
“What? Where is this coming from?”
As Milly tossed out the question without preamble, the two of them arrived at the door of the council chamber. The heavy brown double doors bore a plaque reading Student Council Room. Even at a glance, it was obvious the cost of this chamber far outstripped that of any ordinary classroom. Milly frowned at the gaudy extravagance and looked up at Gilbert.
“This is it?”
“Yes. I hear voices. Sounds like someone’s already here.”
Nodding, Milly pushed the double doors open without hesitation. Sunlight streamed through the great windows, stabbing at her eyes.
Inside, amid furnishings that were all suspiciously expensive, stood two figures. One of them, a bespectacled boy, blinked in mild surprise when he saw her. Wait, she thought, sensing something familiar.
The blue scarves at their necks marked them as second-years. She shouldn’t have had any acquaintances among the upperclassmen, but she could swear she had seen them somewhere.
Before Milly could recall where, the one in glasses spoke in a languid tone. “So it’s true—the grand duke’s daughter has indeed joined the council. I assumed Edgar was just spreading rumors again.”
“Told you so. Well then, President, looks like you can’t skip out anymore.” The sharp-featured boy gave a dry laugh.
And with that, Milly remembered. They’re the ones from Class A this morning. They’re council officers after all, then. She recognized them as the very pair who had stepped in during Angelina and Brima’s dispute earlier that day. Relieved to have placed them, Milly let out a quiet breath. There’s the sharp-faced one, and there’s the one with glasses. Yes, I’ll have to be sure to remember my fellow council members well.
Milly silently repeated the simple descriptions she had just given them. Remembering faces and names was never her strength; plus, keeping track of two people at once already took real effort.
“Nicholas, Edgar. You’re here already.”
“Eh?” Milly, still locked in that private struggle, blurted out in surprise at Gilbert’s familiar greeting.
“What is it, Milly?”
“You know the other council members?”
“Of course. And you’ve met them too, at the party. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten?”
Gilbert looked at her in blank astonishment. The realization hit Milly like a shock. She stood frozen, then bit down hard in frustration.
“Don’t think this puts you ahead of me.”
“What?”
To think her childhood friend had beaten her to getting acquainted with the others was outrageous. If she didn’t make friends soon, her very dignity was at stake. Fueled by that sense of rivalry, Milly sat down beside the bespectacled boy. Across from her, the sharp-featured one leaned forward as though he had been waiting for this moment.
“Welcome, Lady Milly, and congratulations on your admission. It’s been some time, though I doubt you remember me,” said the sharp-featured one, his voice calm, gentle, and suffused with warmth.
Milly glanced at his smiling face, nodded once, and kept her own expression perfectly still. “No, I do not, in fact, know you. You say we have met before?”
“I...didn’t expect you to admit that so bluntly.”
“Ah, if that stung, I’m sorry. I’ve just never been able to remember people’s names and faces, no matter how hard I try.”
Years of burying herself in study had left Milly’s mind such that, once she woke up each morning, anything unrelated to her books tended to slip away. Even remembering the heroine’s name—Sierra—had taken chanting it ten times before bed every night.
“Don’t worry about it. We only exchanged greetings before. I’m Edgar Franster, vice president of the student council. Try to remember going forth,” the sharp-featured boy introduced himself with a wink. Out of the corner of her eye, Milly saw Gilbert grimace.