The Best and Worst of Us

Two lockers, with two doors each, and one chain across them, with one large padlock.

“...Candlethumb…?”

Two small locks to keep the double doors latched shut, and one padlock. So it was either two or three different sets of keys, probably three. Stealing the keys didn’t seem like a good idea for what would just be a literal “open-and-shut case”... but her alternative method consumed both time and resources.

There was a real danger that she’d have to somehow hide in the Archives for a whole–

“Candlethumb!”

The loud shout hit Cerise’s eardrums like a whipcrack, and she shuddered out of her ruminations to look at her teacher, who regarded her with a disdainful narrowing of his eyes.

The witch bowed her head, contrite. “I’m sorry, Professor Hardwicke.”

“While I know this course might be below your stunning acumen, at least pretend to pay attention.”

“Sorry,” Cerise apologized once more, and forced herself to put the plan in the back of her mind and try to look attentive. If not for Hardwicke, then at least to dissuade the silent judging stares that glanced her way every so often.

Perhaps her novelty had finally waned in the time since her initial arrival, and Cerise admitted that after all was said and done, she just didn’t jive with the researchers, nor they with her. I suppose freewheeling in her lessons and being in speaking distance of the prince wasn’t endearing herself to them. Granted, she only had one objective out of all of this, but Cerise had enough life lessons from all her visiting patients – aunts, uncles, grandparents – that she already could hear them telling her not to make the rest of her schooling any more miserable.

Especially if she was trying to avoid having her future breaking-and-entering noticed.

Cerise collided with another student with enough force that the two had to stagger back to keep their balance.

“Watch it!”

The witch blinked, and looked about her, and realized she wasn’t even in Hardwicke’s classroom anymore. Instead, she was in some outdoor arcade that served as one of the University’s many pedestrian veins connecting certain clumps of the campus’s buildings.

Various men and women were staring at her again.

“I, uh, what?” Cerise said, stumbling on her words while she remained disoriented.

“Tch, her highness was right, you always seemed like trouble,” The aggrieved man muttered as he stalked off.

Cerise could only give an anemic “Oi!” in protest at his back, when she was still disoriented. When had she finished class and started wandering around? Had she been so caught up with the restricted section that she was actually blanking out and moving through the day automatically?

The witch pushed her hands across her face, pushing the pink bangs up back her scalp, and groaned.

“Spirits help me, I’m fixated on this…”

And of course, Ruben’s sister was suddenly choosing to stir the pot against her. Brilliant.

There was no way she could leave the locked shelves alone like this. The sooner she raided them, the better. Get in, find the books, find the names, and rip out the pages as soon as possible. Once her worries were over… well, self-explantory, wasn’t it?

She was sure Rube, Damon, and Andrew would have loved to commiserate about her situation, but Cerise instead bee-lined to her desk in the Breath Imbuing workshop. If she wanted to get this over with, the most important part was determining how much Yellow Peppy she had; mixed with a few tricks, and a bit of Breath, it’d turn into a trick Cerise used when she dealt with warehouse doors that had needed opening on occasion.

The sooner she knew what was in those books, the better. Cerise pushed her way into the workshop and made for her desk, and sped up when she saw an unfamiliar figure standing near her bubbling works in progress.

“What the…” Cerise growled.

Lucretia Mariposa Ambrose Arnis turned, a polite smile set on her face. “Good day to you, too, Candlethumb.”

“This place isn’t for you,” the witch hissed as she stalked up to the princess. “There’s delicate work here. We can’t have people casually just tripping around the place. Out.”

“Oh, so you do feel that you’re part of this illustrious student body,” Lucretia replied.

“That would have been more convincing if folks here weren’t saying out loud that you warned them against me,” Cerise answered in kind. “Am I going to be seeing pitchforks and torches in a few weeks when the rumour mill starts saying I eat babies?”

Lucretia did an excellent impression of being taken aback, her hand over an open mouth to go with her wide eyes.

“Goodness, if it concerns you this much, it does prove you wish to ingratiate yourself with the wonderful people of this institution,” She loudly sighed. “You’ll have to forgive me, I was merely doing my royal duty, warning others against the possibility you were a layabout with no ambition beyond having my brother’s patronage. I have to protect them both, you see?”

Cerise rolled her eyes. “Oh spare me, Lucy.”

The princess’s smile was flat, though she leaned forward, playfully conspiratorial. “How about a chance for me to recompense?”

In the face of Cerise’s silence, she continued.

“In light of my brother and I both now attending Arnis Heart University, the teachers want to throw a little soiree in our honor. As many teachers as possible will want to be seen in speaking distance with us, as will some students of noble peerage. Come along. I’ll introduce you to everyone worth knowing, and before long, the story of Cerise Candlethumb being pleasant and amiable company will sweep through this campus. I’ll make sure it happens.”

Cerise still didn’t speak, but Lucretia might have been able to see something calculating behind that morose expression.

“As many teachers as possible”? How true was that? But Cerise could imagine it – she didn’t care at all, but how many professors would skip an event attended by royalty? They’d stand to lose more by not appearing.

If attendance was so great… if all eyes were turned there for the night…

It’d be a quiet evening with no one bothering to pay attention to Records House C. After all, no one would bother with the restricted section there with it safely under lock and key.

Cerise made a show of checking her rows of steeping ingredients, and briefly thumbed a tray full of drying Yellow Peppies.

“Is Ruben going to be there?” she asked.

Lucretia hummed in amusement. “Why wouldn’t he be? It’s an event for both of us.”

So she said, though Cerise knew better than to accuse the princess of lying, even if being strung along and trotted over to a non-existent party was certainly a thing, whether it was merely a prank, or an actual trap.

Well, all she had to do was ask if the princess was on the level. But if she was telling the truth, and there was a party…

Lucretia was indeed opening doors in more than one sense.

So the witch straightened her back and looked the princess in the eye.

“I’ll be fashionably late.”

“Of course.”