Lucky Rabbit

None of the children even suggested going outside again. Instead, Eleanor went and got her deck of cards, but this time they played a game that reminded Pandy of group Solitaire, with all of them placing cards according to number or elemental suit. They didn’t take turns, just played a card when they saw a chance, and for once Isidor didn’t win. Instead, it was Matilda who laid down the last of her cards with a triumphant flourish and declared, “Blaze!”

The others groaned, but to Pandy’s eyes, Thaniel, at least, was overdoing it, and he shoved his unused cards into the pile almost as if he had something to hide. Geraldine wasn’t much better, but Matilda didn’t seem to notice. Instead, she swept the cards together and swirled them around in a child’s attempt at shuffling. Isidor’s fingers twitched as he watched the edges of the cards catch on each other, some cards stubbornly clinging together even as the golden-haired girl pulled them into a stack and started dealing again.

Matilda won twice more, and Geraldine – looking slightly embarrassed – won once before Matilda’s father returned to the dining hall. Several other parents had come back already, and while most of them took their children with them when they left, they could also be heard loudly telling staff members that said children would, “see you on Monday.” One pinch-faced man with thinning brown hair caught his daughter by the arm and drew her after him without a word, but as far as Pandy could tell, he was the only one who seemed deeply displeased by whatever the chancellor had told him.

Matilda’s father stood half a head taller than anyone else in the room, and easily found Matila, seated as she was only a few tables from where they’d sat during lunch. He approached with surprisingly light steps, given the way he’d been stomping around only an hour or so earlier. More, when he laid a hand on Matilda’s shoulder, Pandy was surprised to see a look of genuine – affection? Some warm emotion, anyway – on his face.

Matilda looked up, and for an instant her expression went blank as she searched his eyes, looking for something. Whatever she saw made her relax at least a little, and she managed a genuine smile as she stood and gave a deep curtsey, saying, “Papa.”

Her father waved the gesture away, but Pandy could tell he liked it. His smile broadened, only to vanish again when he coughed into his hand and said, “I have decided to leave you in school, Matilda. For now. You will be attending Kestrel next year, and it seems unwise to change your curriculum at this time.” Matilda started to say something, but he held up a hand. “If anything like this happens again, you may be assured that I will not only withdraw you from this school, but have that man’s job, as well.”

Pandy somehow doubted this. It was quite possible that another failure of security might lead to Augustus’ removal – except that he was meant to be chancellor of Condor in just three years – but Matilda’s father wouldn’t be one of the people making such a decision. That wasn’t just Pandy’s natural dislike of the man speaking, either. She’d seen how confident and even comfortable Augustus was with Queen Louisa, and no minor noble was going to change that.

Glancing around at the other children, his eyes skimmed over Suzanne, Geraldine, and Eleanor, but narrowed when they touched on Isidor. He settled on Thaniel, who was the very picture of an uppercrust lordling, with his perfect curls, angelic features, and almost-new uniform, courtesy of Mrs. Farrier. “And who are your friends, Matilda? You know your mother, the Marchioness Mossley, will want to know all about them,” the man said, smiling at Thaniel.

Matilda went around the table, introducing everyone, but Pandy was too busy processing the name her father had just so casually dropped. Because Pandy recognized it. That in and of itself wasn’t too surprising, because there was a great deal of noble-family-related lore in Gacha Love, and Pandy had read all of it multiple times. Names were bound to set off vague memories sometimes. But this was a big gong, banging around inside her head with all the enthusiasm of an unstoppable toy rabbit wielding unceasing cymbals. Clang. Mossley. Clang. Bastian. Clang Clang Clang!

Bastian’s backstory was only mentioned a few times, as if it barely held any importance at this point. His father was the second child of a noble family. His older sister, Bastian’s aunt, became the Marchioness Mossley, while her younger sibling was relegated to simply ‘Lord Mossley’, and Bastian himself was barely a noble at all any longer.

When she was still unmarried and childless at the age of thirty, the Marchioness had promised to send her brother’s eldest child – Bastian – through school, since it seemed likely he would someday inherit the title. A few years later, she got married and had a child, who became the heir, but Bastian’s kind aunt still honored her promise to fund her nephew’s education. That all went to explain why Bastian went into business after he graduated, rather than taking over his family’s estate, like Edgar, or following in his father’s footsteps, like Dorian and Kaden.

Clara never met Bastian’s aunt or cousin, but his own mother and father were nice enough people, who welcomed her into the fold without question. When Bastian and Clara opened their bakery, Bastian’s parents were there, and while it was clear they wished that he’d used his Nature magic to become a doctor or herbalist – more reliably lucrative professions, as well as more prestigious – they were the first to buy one of Bastian’s Honeycloud Scones.

In Pandy’s mind, links were being inexorably drawn between the children surrounding her and the characters of the original game. Thaniel and Eleanor were the siblings of the villain and one of the love interests. Geraldine was the heroine’s younger sister. Now it turned out that Matilda – while not one of ‘Pandy’s kids’ per se – was the cousin who had unknowingly come between Bastian and a noble title.

Could it really just be a coincidence? Add in the fact that Isidor had to be part of the story as well, since Pandy didn’t need Corruption Points in order to use magic around him, and that only left out Abbington, and possibly Suzanne. Matilda had definitely been mentioned, though not by name, so Pandy could probably add her to the mental list of people and places that would allow her to cast ‘free’ spells. What would happen if Pandy tried to use magic when Suzanne was the only person nearby? 

A kind of emotional shift pulled her attention back to what was going on around her, to find that Matilda’s father was staring between Isidor and Abbington. The man shook his head disbelievingly. “What’m I paying this ridiculous tuition for, when a Valley boy and a foreigner slip right in? This is Blackwood’s doing, you can be sure.”

Turning back to his daughter, he sighed, then leaned down as if to kiss her cheek. As he did so, Pandy’s ears caught a few murmured words. “...the princess…friends…understand?” Matilda nodded, not even glancing toward Eleanor, so hopefully the princess’s secret identity was still at least somewhat intact.

With another curtsey, Matilda bid her father farewell, reminding Pandy that the girl actually lived on campus, even though her family had a house in town. She was meant to stay at school on weekends, but had been mysteriously called away last week. Suzanne had been a little shifty about the reason, and Pandy hadn’t thought too much about it, just glad not to have to deal with the sometimes-obnoxious blonde. Now, Pandy felt a bit guilty about that.

They all watched until Matilda’s father – Lord Mossley? – had made his way out of the dining hall, accepting an unnecessary hat and coat from one of the servants on his way. He was already talking to a pair of older women by the time he walked out into the sunshine, not turning to wave or even look back at his daughter.

For Matilda’s part, she obviously wasn’t exactly heartbroken to see her father’s back. Her shoulders didn’t slump, but a defensive sort of stiffness melted out of her at his departure. Suzanne reached out and took her hand, and Matilda smiled at her friend before letting out a long, slow breath.

“Well,” she said brightly, turning back to the rest of the children, “I’m beginning to feel bad about beating small children at cards. Should we go outside?”

Suzanne looked thoughtful. “Mrs. Farrier has the day off, and of course the library is closed. Did you do your Literature homework?”

Matilda’s eyes slid sideways. “I’ll do it tomorrow. Mrs. Fairweather forgets to collect homework half the time anyway.”

“And the other half she doesn’t,” Suzanne chided gently, but she didn’t insist they go work on it now. The sensitive girl undoubtedly knew that her friend needed some time to simply relax, now that she wasn’t worrying about being yanked from school.

“Back t’pasture?” Abbington asked, sounding hopeful. While Pandy wouldn’t say he preferred Brook’s company to that of his friends, she also wouldn’t say he preferred his friends to Brook. He liked nothing better than when he could have the best of both worlds.

But Geraldine and Eleanor both shook their heads. “The blanket’s getting soggy,” Geraldine told him, “and I don’t want to get in trouble for muddy clothes again. I know the,” she hesitated, glancing around, then lowered her voice before saying, “rhyme now, so I can fix it myself. Probably. But I’d rather not risk it.”

Eleanor nodded, then suggested, “What about a walk in the Commons? We could read some more Pirate Pete.”

Thaniel was always ready for more pirate adventures, and everyone else seemed amenable, so the children began to make their way back toward the kitchen hall, and the door at the end of it which led out to the edge of the gardens. As they meandered that way, laughing and talking, Pandy noticed that they were once again short a member, but this time she caught the tip of a fluffy tail exiting through the door into the foyer. Suddenly unbearably curious, Pandy wiggled, asking to be let down.

When Thaniel looked at her, she could see his reluctance, and widened her eyes, fluttering her long, silky white lashes at him. She knew it was an adorable, nigh irresistible look, because she’d learned it from him, then practiced in front of the mirror on nights when she just couldn’t bear to grind her skills any longer. He sighed and crouched, placing her on the ground.

“Are you comin’ back tonight?” he whispered, stroking her ears. She nodded, and he smiled before standing. The girls gave him curious glances, but he just shrugged and followed Abbington, who was leading the way outside.

Pandy darted under a table, then another and another, until she was at the door leading to the huge entry hall. There, stymied by a group of chattering children who were blocking the door, stood Miss Cupcakes, tail twitching in annoyance. The children moved, and the kitten glanced backward before slinking through the open door, into the classroom wing. Pandy ducked back out of sight before hopping onward, dodging the feet of students who didn’t even seem to notice she was there.

Where was the kitten going? Somehow, Miss Cupcakes was usually around when strange things happened – though to be fair, that seemed to be all the time, lately. But more and more often, Miss Cupcakes was not with Geraldine, and while the girl hadn’t said anything about it, Pandy had seen the lost and worried look on her face when she glanced down at the space where her kitten wasn’t.

Isidor said that companion elementals almost always abandoned the humans they used to follow. Was Miss Cupcakes beginning to tire of Geraldine? Pandy didn’t know what to do about it if she was, but she knew it would break the girl’s heart. Maybe if Pandy could figure out where the kitten was going, she could ease Geraldine’s mind, or at least be ready to support her when the time came.

Past the homerooms and the library, Pandy followed that twitching gray tail. The cat went upstairs, and Pandy hopped along after her. The hall was silent, other than the occasional sound of a yell or screech that must have made it in through a window. The classrooms were closed and dark, until Pandy reached the very end of the hall. To her right was the music and dance room, where Ms. Wellington had briefly tormented the children, and to the left…

To the left lay an open door, through which a familiar gray tail was just disappearing.