Chapter Three

Anabelle spent the rest of the evening in her bedroom, only nipping downstairs to get a bite to eat every once in a while. Her parents didn’t seem to notice — and if they did, they were more than occupied. Their conversation seemed to go through cycles: first hysterics on her mother’s part, then a lot of shouting between the two of them, and then finally, the last (and in Anabelle’s opinion, the worst), which was a long, maudlin silence.
In any case, Anabelle was busy as well. The application form was short — Anabelle noted, with some distaste, that the school didn’t even require an essay to be admitted (did they let just anyone in?). But it still had to be filled out and taken to the post office as soon as possible. And then there was the matter of preparing. Oh, she would definitely be prepared. She was going to be the best mage in the whole school — no way was some little upstart going to show up Anabelle Emitan.
She was sorting through her school texts and the other books on magic that she kept tucked in her closet when there was a rapping on her door. “Anabelle? Anabelle, darling, are you there?”
Anabelle rolled her eyes. “Yes, Father, I am.”
There was a brief pause. “May I come in?”
“Yes. If you like.” Faster than usual, Anabelle noted to herself, letting a hint of a smile creep onto her face. It was a little game they had played for years, ever since Anabelle had learned the difference between can and may.
The door swung open, and her father peered in, clearly confused as to where Anabelle was. “In the closet,” Anabelle called. “I’ll be out in just a moment.” She replaced most of the books, setting only a few aside for further study, and went to lean against the closet door frame. “What is it, Father?”
“Anabelle, come and have a seat,” he said, patting the area of bed next to him. “We need to have a serious discussion.”
Anabelle sighed, and wandered over to the bed to perch gently on the edge, crossing her ankles demurely beneath her. “Look, Father, I’m really sorry about all this. I really hope it wasn’t what I did that made you lose your job — and Mum’s job, too, I suppose,” she said, grimacing. “If there’s anything that I can do to help, just let me know.”
“That’s what I was coming to talk to you about, actually,” said her father, looking back towards the door. “You may have heard that we have less money than we had anticipated–”
“I think the group of people who haven’t heard would be more exclusive, actually,” interrupted Anabelle, leaning back on her elbows.
Her father sighed. “You may be right,” he said, wearily. “But the fact of the matter is that we’re going to have to make some sacrifices in the near future. Hopefully it’ll just be for a little while, until your mother and I can find new jobs, which shouldn’t be too hard for people of our qualifications. But until then…”
Anabelle delicately raised an eyebrow. She had a sudden bad feeling about the way this conversation was heading. “Is this by any chance something that I’m not going to like?”
“Yes,” said her father, curtly. “We’re going to have to sell your Coronet uniform.”
Anabelle had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Dad,” she said, “that wasn’t a very funny joke.”
“I’m not joking, Anabelle,” he said, with a hint of exasperation in his voice. “We need the money. That uniform was expensive, and since you won’t be going to Cor–”
Anabelle leapt off the bed and planted her hands firmly on her hips. “Father,” she said, “you’re not even going to finish that sentence, are you? I am going to Coronet one way or another. Even if I have to wait a year–”
Her father looked up at her, and Anabelle saw for the first time something different in his expression. It was a look she’d never seen before — desperation.
“Anabelle,” he said, “you have to face reality. We can’t get you into Coronet on family name alone, and there’s no way we’d be able to afford it at this point–”
Leaning back against the wall, Anabelle covered her face with one hand, and sniffled slightly. “You don’t understand,” she said, punctuating the phrase with an extra-loud sniffle, and waving her father off with a hand as he moved to stand up. “Coronet’s been my dream for so long, for so many years — if I’m unable to go, after all my hard, hard work to get in…” She trailed off there, letting a muffled sob finish the thought for her.
“Oh, darling,” her father said, hastily, rising gently from the bed and putting an arm around her shoulders. “I guess–” He hesitated a moment, pausing to think, but then went on: “I guess we could keep the uniform. If it means that much to you.”
Anabelle lifted her head up, wiping tears from her eyes. “Really?” At his nod, she wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace. “Thank you, Father,” she said. “It means the world to me.”
And to herself, grinned. I knew he’d give in eventually, she thought, smugly. After all, I’m going to have to use it someday. Might as well have it on hand… and, well, I’ve got to have something smashing to wear on my first day at Landomel Academy, right?

The next morning, Anabelle woke up with the dawn to take a brisk walk into the small village that served the town houses as well as the outlying estates and a few of the farms. While her mother looked at her a little strangely — Anabelle rarely left the grounds during her time at home or woke up earlier than nine in the morning. Anabelle brushed it off, saying that she was just getting a little fresh air to clear her head. Which, of course, was true, but not the true reason for her rather uncharacteristic jaunt.
Before she left, she carefully adjusted her blouse (spotless), brushed off her skirt (freshly ironed) and made sure her shoes shone like mirrors (newly polished). Making a good impression was always important, even if you were just going to the post office. And most important of all — she tucked the envelope with the forms that would grant her a place at Landomel Academy under her arm, made sure it wouldn’t fall out, and began the long walk to the village.
Three minutes later, she stopped to rest, having finally reached the top of the first hill. “This,” she panted to herself, “now this is why I don’t take walks often.” She’d forgotten how steep the hill was. Perhaps I’d better wait and go out with the carriage, she thought, but then remembered: I can’t stop now. The postmarking deadline’s today, and I need to make sure it gets there. And, she thought, with some satisfaction, as they say: If you want it done the right way, do it yourself.
Besides, she wasn’t even completely sure that the servants would still be employed by them when she returned. Stupid Filiana. She’s ruined everything in my entire life — and what did I ever do to her? Nothing! Anabelle thought, angrily, as she turned back onto the road to continue her march, now more determined than ever.
She still couldn’t figure out what Filiana’s problem was. It wasn’t like she’d never pulled a prank before — and she and Filiana had always done them together. Filiana had even, Anabelle was forced to admit, been the instigator in several rather brilliant pranks over the years of their friendship. The Amazing Apple Prank, she remembered with a wistful smile, would go down in history at good old Verence.
The smile faded quickly, though. The point is, she thought, furiously, who does she think she is? Little so-and-so — I made her!
In fact, she could barely remember the shy, mousy, six-year-old Filiana that she’d met at a state dinner once upon a time. Anabelle, perplexed by the younger girl’s silence, had badgered and bothered her until Filiana spoke at last, if only to tell her to please shut up and stop pestering me if you know what’s good for you, my daddy is an advisor to the King and he can get your head chopped off. Not put off in the least and realizing something they had in common, Anabelle had, as any well-trained lady would, used the opening to start a conversation.
Well, sort of. If a proper conversation opener involved anything like oh yeah, well my daddy is one of the King’s advisor’s too, and he’s also the most powerful mage in the Kingdom, so you’d better be the one watching your step! and No, my daddy’s a better mage! No, mine!
But once their parents had pulled them apart and all the adults had gotten a good chuckle, the two of them had been surprised to find out how much they had in common, and started spending more time together. Soon, they were inseparable. They let others into their circle of elites, of course, but the other faces changed with time. She and Filiana were the constants, the ringleaders, never to be replaced.
At least, it seemed, until now.
Some kind of friend she was, thought Anabelle, as she kicked a stone out of her path and watched it roll down the sloped grassy border on the side of the road. All these years, just thrown away. Well, all right, Filiana, I’ll play your game. I’ll go to a government school, and get the best education I can, and become the best mage in the country — no, in the world. And then we’ll see what’s what and who’s who.
She arrived in the village about ten minutes later, weary in body but not in mind. In fact, she was more determined than ever to carry out her plan as she stuck a stamp on her envelope and handed it to the postal governor with a dramatic flourish.
And on the walk back, it was strange — but although she’d only relieved herself of a few ounces of paper, her steps felt lighter all the way.

The rest of the week saw Anabelle spending a lot more time out in the gardens, watching each day for the mail carriage to come their way. Most of the servants were being let go, and consequently were packing up to vacate the house, so Anabelle found herself waiting patiently for the mail each day. School was ending soon, and there was only a one-week break until the beginning of the next term. She would have to be able to get ready quickly when the response came.
She still found herself at a loss for a way to tell her parents. It was odd — anyone who knew her could vouch for the fact that she was rarely at a loss for words — and she found herself purposefully avoiding her parents, so as to have an excuse for not telling them until the last minute.
Still, though, Anabelle thought, as she jotted down a list of things she needed to pack in her diary, there had to be a better way to tell them than shouting it out the door as she left. For one thing, she needed to tell them at some point, or else she’d be left to walk there on her own, and it was by no means close on foot.
Well, she thought, as she rifled through the attic one day, she’d figure out something. She always did.
The attic was quiet and rarely disturbed–only the servants had ever come up there. Anabelle had decided that it was a good place to practice magic. There were plenty of useless knick-knacks to practice on, and she wouldn’t be bothered by anyone.
Pulling out a graphite pencil, she traced a circle lightly in a rare open part of the floor, before tucking it over her ear and pointing her right index and middle finger together at the circle. “Fire,” she said, and the circle burst into flames briefly before she cancelled the spell with a wave of her hand. Looking down, she noticed with satisfaction that she hadn’t even scorched the floor.
Magic had always come easily to her. It was a part of her family — both of her parents’ families had been well-known in high circles as powerful and competent mages in all the spheres of Influence. Anabelle herself had grown up knowing that it was almost for certain that someday she’d be one of the most powerful and influential people in the land. It was what Emitans and Laranies did, along with going to the twin schools of Coronet and Gallinger in the capital on their way there.
Well, she was just going to be different, Anabelle decided, as she lazily traced a circle with her finger in the air. Maybe she would get there in another way, but she was still going to be the most well-known, influential member of either family, one way or another.
Because, she added to herself, as she set the traced ring of air on fire, I am Anabelle Emitan.

Three days later, the return letter came. Anabelle pounced on the mail before anyone else could notice and dumped it uncerimoniously on the kitchen table while keeping the precious letter for herself as she dashed up to her room to squirrel it away.
However, she still found herself in a tedious position: she’d have to leave soon — the city of Landomel was most of a day’s journey by carriage — but she still hadn’t mentioned the matter to her parents.
She refused to consider the possibility that she was afraid of something. “Emitans,” her father had told her once, “are not afraid of anything, because we can take on anything that comes.” She’d lived by them for years. The words seemed almost mocking now, though. We can take on anything that comes. Sure, thought Anabelle, ruefully.
What would she be afraid of, anyway? she pondered, pacing back and forth across the floor of her bedroom. Her parents would probably be happy to know that she’d found a new school, even if it wasn’t even anywhere near the same caliber as Coronet Academy. They’d probably even praise her for taking such initiative. What was her reservation, then? She wanted to go, didn’t she? It wasn’t Coronet Academy, but…
Well, it just wasn’t Coronet Academy. And it never would be.
Anabelle flopped backwards onto her bed. It wasn’t the same, was it? Part of her was still holding out for a letter to come from Coronet explaining that although she’d been suspended, she could attend anyway and everything would be wonderful and perfect and they’d love to have her there.
“It isn’t going to happen, is it?” she whispered to herself. “I’m not going to be able to attend Coronet for at least a year. The first girl from my family not to since the school was founded.”
She frowned. Not going to school at all would be even more shameful, for someone of her excellent breeding. Still, though, it niggled that she had to settle for second-best. Or really more like “fifteenth-best.” Or “last resort.”
But she’d be damned if she was going to be a black sheep. She was Anabelle Emitan, the very paragon of sheep, and she was going to Landomel Academy.
She threw open the door. “Mum, Dad! I’ve got something to tell you!”