Lucky Rabbit

The next two days were spent in a blur of lectures and books, all delivered by a Killian who was a far more terrible villain than he had ever been in the game. At least, if you discounted the people he killed and the fact that he wanted to tear apart the kingdom. Which probably meant this Lian wasn’t actually worse, but as Pandy lay sprawled on her belly in the late summer heat, it certainly seemed like it.

“The eldest daughter of the Blackwoods married the only son of the Aeris family in 1806, ending the Blackwood dynasty, though only in name. Queen Arrabella and King Spencer had twin sons in 1809, after three years without producing an heir.” Lian paused, watching as his brother idly drew a picture of a rabbit in the corner of his notebook, then abruptly asked, “Thaniel? Do you remember the names of their sons?”

Thaniel straightened, eyes darting around the room as if the names might be hidden in the wainscoting. Pandy couldn’t move, lulled as she was into a near coma by the drone of locusts outside and the heavy humidity inside. Really, why hadn’t someone invented magical air-conditioning yet? There were Air and Ice elementals, and the combination of the two might make this time spent inside bearable.

Still, she rolled her head to the side and met Thaniel’s eyes, lazily thinking, They were Clayton and Wentworth, and what did their parents expect after giving them names like that? The two were this world’s Romulus and Remus. At least, Pandy thought they were, but all she actually knew about those two was that Romulus killed Remus and named a city after himself, which is pretty much exactly what happened with Clayton and Wentworth, too.

Thaniel’s eyes widened, and he whispered, “Clayton and Wentwith?”

Pandy sat up, all lethargy gone. Thaniel? Did you hear me?

Thaniel’s brows drew together, and he shook his head, sticking his left pinky into his ear and wiggling it around. Fortunately, Lian was oblivious to the interplay, and patted Thaniel on the head, distracting the boy. Pandy’s legs became liquid again as Lian said, “Clayton and Wentworth, but I’m glad to see you’re finally paying attention. As you’ll remember, because the two were identical, they were so often mistaken for one another that eventually no one knew which had actually been born first. This sparked a civil war that-”

Lian was off again, and Pandy’s head thunked softly against the wooden desk on which she lay as another hundred years of history passed by in the most boring, monotonous way possible. It was clear that Lian truly loved learning, but teaching was most definitely not one of his strengths. Really, Pandy was beginning to see why the creators of Gacha Love had made him the silent, broody type.

But had Thaniel heard her? If so, what did that mean? Was it possible that she could actually communicate with someone? Yes, that someone was a six-year-old, but still, she could hold an actual conversation, not just yell at the System or silently blame that stupid god.

Unfortunately, Lian didn’t stop talking until dinner, and then they had to get dressed and go down to eat. Meals were much more comfortable now that Miss Cupcakes wasn’t constantly trying to stalk Pandy across the pudding, or leap over the linguine to tear off her tail. Clara had even dragged herself back from her friend’s house, and sat demurely to her father’s left, quietly picking at her beef bourguignon. She was as sweet and lovely as a flower, and Pandy spent every meal just staring at her, drowning in being on this side of that limpid gaze.

Somehow, in spite – or perhaps because – of all this, these meals were far from the lively events Pandy had become used to. Everyone used their best manners, even the children, with Geraldine giving Thaniel surreptitious little kicks beneath the table whenever he started to use the wrong fork.

Conversation rarely strayed far from the weather and Lady Alice’s flowers, which were apparently the ones to beat at the upcoming summer festival in town. Once, Thaniel asked about Geraldine’s books and clothes for school, but everyone glanced at Clara, and the subject was quickly returned to the safer topics of food and fripperies. Pandy was beginning to suspect that Clara might be jealous of her younger sister, but it might also be that everyone else thought she must be jealous, and therefore avoided talking about school in front of her, because Clara’s clear gaze and delicately arched brows never wavered.

No games were played after dinner, though the two younger children did gather in the library with Captain Reedsley, listening at his knee as he read as much as he could get away with before Lian turned up. Unfortunately, Lian was always there promptly at eight, and by eight-thirty, Thaniel was bathed and in bed, with Pandy placed reluctantly beside him.

Lian much preferred to pretend that Pandy didn’t exist, but Thaniel wouldn’t sleep without her, and Lian wouldn’t allow Pandy into the bed without a bath of her own. She didn’t really understand why, since it wasn’t like they were still playing pirates, instead spending all day inside reading and then being quizzed on what they’d read. Still, even as a rabbit, warm baths were usually pleasant, and Pandy much preferred smelling like rose petals than, say, fried chicken or cat urine, as she had in previous jobs.

And Pandy was coming to see this as just another one of her long string of odd jobs. She’d spent a week as a professional mourner, only to discover that she couldn’t cry on cue. She’d failed as a golf ball diver thanks to the fact that she sank in any body of water deeper than a puddle. Retrieving the lost balls had been easy enough, but getting back out of the water hazard was, well, hazardous. Her favorite job had been as a professional sleeper, testing rooms and beds for comfort, but once she caught up on her sleep deficit, she became an insomniac, and no one was fooled by her fake snoring.

No, spending a few months – or years – as a little boy’s pet wasn’t really that far outside of her wheelhouse. Sure, she’d like to have a day off now and then, but food and housing was provided, and she didn’t even need to buy clothes or pay for a bus pass.

Presumably, she’d need some way to support herself in three years when all of this was over, at least if she didn’t just die again, but what kind of reward for heroism would this be if it all ended so abruptly? She chose to believe that she’d continue on in some form, and that form would need to have its basic needs fulfilled. She had some ideas about that, but Pandy was rarely able to plan further ahead than a few weeks, so the idea of preparing herself for something so far in the future was rather daunting.

These thoughts and more filled her mind as she lay tucked into the curve of Thaniel’s arm each night. She didn’t even dare practice her skills, since the door between Thaniel’s bedroom and his brother’s was always left open. More than once, Pandy poked her head out of the covers to find cold blue eyes glittering at her from the other room. Lian might have told Thaniel he needed his sleep, but the older boy obviously had no intention of following his own advice. It was rare for him to leave his small spell-lit desk before the grandfather clock in the hallway struck two in the morning.

But finally it was time to go. Lord Captain Reedsley had arranged for a private carriage, which arrived early in the morning on the third day. Even for a family of country nobles, six in the morning was early, though the servants were up, preparing food and taking care of the horses, chickens, and a few goats who kept the grass and hedges tidy. Lady Alice was notably absent, though Captain Reedsley was there, dressed in simple breeches and a neatly tucked shirt, with a sword at his hip. It looked like he had been practicing or working out, with sweat darkening his back and making his brown hair cling to his forehead.

“I greatly appreciate your hospitality, my lord,” Lian said, bowing stiffly toward the older man. “Especially when it comes to my brother. You cared for him…quite satisfactorily, though I do wish a bit more attention had been paid to his education.”

Pandy could have put her paws over her eyes. That was a terrible way to say thank you, Lian! It seemed that Thaniel felt the same, because he stepped forward hesitantly, then stretched up and threw his little arms around the captain’s waist.

“Thanks ever so much for letting me stay, and having a birthday party, and reading Wayward Pirate Pete, and Geraldine is the very best friend I’ve ever had,” he said. Geraldine was the only friend Thaniel had ever had, at least as far as Pandy knew, but that didn’t matter, because she really was a very good friend in general.

Captain Reedsley laid a hand on Thaniel’s curls, then crouched down to look the boy in the eyes. “We’re very glad you could come to stay with us, Thaniel,” he said. “You’ll always be welcome here, and I hope you’ll come back for the holidays.”

“Oh, yes, Thaniel, please do!” said a sleepy voice behind Thaniel, and the boy turned as Captain Reedsley stood, smiling down at his daughter. Geraldine’s hair was in a messy braid, with wild curls springing up everywhere, and she wore a simple robe over a cotton nightgown that only differed from Thaniel’s because the girl’s had lace around the hem and sleeves.

“I know we’re going to see each other in school,” Geraldine said, rubbing at her eyes as Miss Cupcakes sauntered out of the door behind her. The cat stopped in the first patch of sunshine she came to, then sat down, dropping something from her mouth as she yawned and stretched. Geraldine didn’t seem to notice as she continued, “But I don’t know how often we’ll really be able to talk, so I wanted to ask you now to come back over winter break. Because you’re the very best friend I’ve ever had, too.”

Thaniel’s smile could have illuminated a dozen houses the size of the Reedsley’s manor, but it quickly dimmed as he turned to his brother. “Will we have to go back to…back home, Lian?”

Lian looked conflicted. “I had intended to do so,” he said. “But I suppose it will be up to our guardian. He has promised to leave me to my own devices, so long as I do well in school and don’t fall into any unfortunate habits. That includes making my own arrangements for vacations, and there will certainly be a number of things that need to be attended to at Dunning House. I don’t see any reason you should have to go, however.”

Thaniel’s eyes widened. “You know our guardian?”

Captain Reedsley’s large hand tousled Thaniel’s curls. “You do, too. Or at least you’ve met him. Augustus Blackwood is a distant cousin on your mother’s side, and also the chancellor of Falconet.”

It finally clicked. Now Pandy knew where she’d seen Augustus Blackwood before. In three years time, he would be the headmaster of Condor, and he appeared in the story exactly once: on opening day, when he gave a speech about how he hoped all of the students would work together to learn, grow stronger, and become the leaders of the future.

He was the one who explained that no one was allowed to use rank, wealth, or privilege to harass other students, and that each of them would have to prove themselves as individuals to do well. His face was shown for a brief moment in the beginning of the cutscene, which focused on each of the romantic leads during different parts of the speech, before returning to Clara.

Of course, while Clara had to figure out who each of the boys were, everyone else already knew, since they’d spent the last three to twelve years with them. In spite of the fact that everyone was supposed to be equal and, at least to some extent, anonymous, when you met the crown prince at a ball and recognized him from school, there was no way you weren’t going to try to become his friend, whether you liked him or not. Conversely, if you were stuck-up and pompous, when you realized that your classmate was a countrified nobody, you might not be able to resist harassing her, especially when all four of the best-looking and highest-ranking boys started following after her like lovesick puppies.

So the question was, was Augustus Blackwood only paying lip-service to the idea of fairness and equality, or was he sincere and simply naive or incompetent? The man Pandy had met twice now hadn’t seemed particularly naive, which left hypocritical or inept, neither of which was a good thing in a guardian.

“Of course, the decision hasn’t actually been finalized yet. Our father’s cousin, Lord Andres Forrest, owns land near our estate, though he himself lives in town. He believes it makes the most sense for him to take over guardianship, since his relationship is closer, and he travels that way every year to inspect his land,” Lian said, though he seemed restrained, even for him. His eyes gave nothing away, but for the first time since he’d come back from court, his mouth was curved in the villain’s thin-lipped and insincere smile.

Captain Reedsley’s mouth flattened as well, before he forced a smile. “I’m certain Augustus wouldn’t mind if you came to visit us as often as you like, Thaniel. He’s Lady Alice’s cousin as well, though a bit more distantly. He was in school with my younger brother, too, and came here on break more than once as a lad. It’s hard to believe he’s a man grown and chancellor of the school now.”

There was a notable lack of enthusiasm for Lord Forrest from both of them, and Pandy cast about in her mind, trying to remember anything about a Lord Forrest or a Lord Andres. There were whole books on noble genealogy, and they were both dense and thick, thanks to a tendency to marry back among themselves in order to consolidate power, land, or political alliances.

That aspect of Gacha Love had mostly been background content, and while Pandy had read excerpts from those books, all the names tended to run together, especially after the fifth or sixth ‘Ralph Richfield’ married his second cousin once removed. There were just too many fancy-sounding names marrying other fancy-sounding names and producing still more fancy-sounding names. Unless there was an interesting story attached to them – like the twins, Clayton and Wentworth – there was no way Pandy would remember.

Thaniel seemed to notice the lack of certainty around the whole guardianship question as well, because his arms tightened around Pandy, and his chin dipped to brush against the top of her head. “Do you know when they’ll be sure?” he asked.

Lian and Captain Reedsley exchanged glances. “After the summer harvest, everyone will return to court for the fall and winter season. The Queen Regent wants to hear input from a few more people before making a final decision,” Captain Reedsley said. “In the meantime, Augustus has been granted temporary guardianship, which allowed us to pay your staff, buy Lian’s supplies, and hire this coach.”

“Which is charging by the hour,” Lian said with something that might have been dry humor tingeing his voice. “It will take half the day to reach Falconet, and a few more hours to take me to Kestrel, so we’d best be going if either of us wants to have a good meal and sleep in a proper bed tonight.”

Geraldine had been left behind by all the talk of guardians, and her own sleepiness had prevented her from catching up, but now she stepped forward, hugging Thaniel tightly. She was a bit taller than he was, so it looked very much like a big sister hugging her younger brother goodbye, especially when Thaniel hugged her back, sniffling softly.

“I’ll see you in three days,” Geraldine said, her own voice distinctly watery. “And Eleanor is already there. I’m terribly jealous that you’ll get to see her first. Don’t forget about me!”

The two children clung to each other, for all the world as if they were about to be separated forever, not for just a bit over three days, until Miss Cupcakes gave a demanding, “Mrrr-up!” Then they pulled apart, and Pandy managed to lick a tear from Thaniel’s cheek as he bent down to pick up the dusty, matted thing the kitten had just dropped onto his shoe.

“What’s this?” he asked, but even before she turned to look, Pandy saw the expression on Geraldine’s face and just knew. And sure enough, there, resting in the palm of Thaniel’s hand, sat her poor, bedraggled, forgotten tail. One last gift from Pandy’s feline frenemy which left all of the humans at a loss for words while the cat’s fluffy gray tail twitched in what Pandy could only interpret as satisfaction.