Lucky Rabbit

“King Elliott was how old when he took the throne?” Mr. Rowe asked, looking around expectantly.

Eighteen, Pandy thought lazily, rolling over to expose her belly to the narrow beam of sunlight edging its way in through the classroom window.

“Eighteen,” Eleanor said, after a protracted silence made it obvious that no one else knew.

“Very good, Ellie,” Mr. Rowe said, nodding. “Everyone else, stand and do eighteen jumping jacks.”

With resigned groans, the other students began to do their ‘jumping jacks’, though it would have been better to describe the activity as semi-synchronized hopping while arm-waving. It had been obvious from the first time Mr. Rowe did this that some of the students had never done anything more strenuous than sipping tea, and while they were getting better, it was slow going.

Pandy was sprawled out on the floor, perilously close to Miss Cupcakes, who lay in her own patch of sunshine. Winston was sitting at Ellie’s feet, but both cat and rabbit had both found themselves slowly migrating further away from the children – who jumped up and down at the whim of their teacher – and closer to the slightly open windows in the wall behind Mr. Rowe’s desk.

“Why did some people believe that King Elliott’s cousin, Duke Marin, should have been king instead?” Mr. Rowe asked, as the children sat again. No one answered, so he smiled a little and said, “Anyone who answers correctly doesn’t have to do any exercises tomorrow.”

Six hands shot up, and when Mr. Rowe pointed at an adorable brunette at the first table, she said, “Because King Elliott was mean?”

The teacher managed not to laugh, instead shaking his head solemnly. “Thank you, but no, Phoebe. In fact, some people said King Elliott was too nice, and wouldn’t be able to make difficult decisions. That wasn’t the reason they didn’t think he should be king, though.”

Pandy scratched at her ear, thinking. He wasn’t an Air elementalist. She remembered that much from the lore. Elliott was King Fergus’ – Kaden and Eleanor’s father – grandfather, and several of the books found in Gacha Love mentioned him at least peripherally. Elliott was quite progressive, giving commoners more rights, and reducing taxes while encouraging the nobility to spend less on luxuries and more on their people. It was thanks to him that gifted commoners could even attend the three schools, since before that they were restricted to nobles only.

Mr. Rowe swept his gaze over the classroom, shaking his head. “We discussed this on Friday. Does anyone remember?” His eyes landed on Ellie, who looked like she was trying to sink into the floor. “Ellie?”

The girl’s sigh probably wasn’t audible to the teacher, but Pandy’s ears picked it up. Eleanor didn’t appear to like showing off how much she knew, unlike some of the other students, and for some reason this one really seemed to bother her. Still, she pulled herself upright and said, “He was an Ice elementalist.” She paused, then somewhat defiantly added, “Just like his mother’s mother.”

The teacher’s brows rose. “That’s correct, Ellie. Thank you.” Turning around, he added another step to the growing royal family tree on the chalkboard. “Queen Bridgette’s mother, Lady Dorinne, was an Ice elementalist, but she died when Bridgette was born. Bridgette’s father remarried almost immediately, and his second wife was an Air elementalist. Bridgette herself was an Air elementalist, like her father, and Lady Dorinne was nearly forgotten.”

He drew a few more lines, adding Queen Bridgette’s family off to one side of the main chart. “When then-Prince Elliott was originally revealed as an Ice elementalist, it didn’t matter much, because he had two older brothers, both of whom were Air elementalists. But when Elliott was eighteen, his father, mother, and brothers all died in a plague that swept through the kingdom.”

Mr. Rowe crossed out several names, then circled another one: Duke Marin, the son of the deceased king’s only brother. “Duke Marin, who was a good bit older than King Elliott, a respected lord, and contracted with a tier four Air elemental, claimed that King Elliott’s elemental affinity meant that the prince wasn’t the former king’s son, and therefore Duke Marin himself was the rightful heir. It was only when the queen’s family tree was further investigated that the truth came to light, and Duke Marin was disgraced for his lies.”

Turning back to the class, the teacher picked a book up off his desk, holding it so everyone could read the title: Who’s Next? A Noble’s Guide to Kings, Queens, and Crowns. A colorful picture of a king and queen seated on matching thrones, gilt crowns on their heads, graced the cover.

“There are several copies of this book available in the library, and while we’ll go over much of what it says in class, the stories of King Elliott, as well as many others, are contained within. I encourage each of you to read it, and,” Mr. Rowe paused to smile at Thaniel, “the first person who can tell me which member of the royal family spent a year as a pirate will get an entire week without having to do any exercises.”

Thaniel brightened at this, finally shaking off the boredom that was painfully obvious most of the time. He raised his hand, but the bell for lunch rang, making everyone else scramble to their feet, gathering bags and papers. Mr. Rowe returned to his desk, and Thaniel turned to Eleanor instead. Pandy wove her way through the feet of the children exiting the room, arriving at Thaniel’s desk just in time to hear Thaniel demand, “Which royal was it?”

Now that the class’s attention was no longer fixed on her, Eleanor had recovered her usual poise, and simply smiled. “You’ll have to read the book.”

Thaniel’s lower lip poked out. “I know you know, though. It’ll take me forever to read a book that big.”

“Then you’d better get started,” Eleanor said unsympathetically, starting to sling her bag over her shoulder. Geraldine intercepted it, however, taking the bag and settling the strap onto the opposite shoulder from her own bag as she gave her roommate a smile.

“You’ll tell me, though, won’t you?” Geraldine wheedled. “Thaniel likes stretching and jumping around.”

“So do you!” Thaniel said, folding his arms across his chest.

Geraldine’s lip pushed out in a remarkably good imitation of Thaniel’s. They really did look and act like siblings, in spite of their different coloring. “But I have to wear a skirt. I shouldn’t have to do jumping jacks.”

“You don’t have to do pushups and situps,” Thaniel pointed out, and Eleanor shook her head, heading for the door with her dog trotting at her heels.

“No, we have to do more jumping jacks instead, and jog in place. It’s not better,” Geraldine argued as Thaniel scooped Pandy up and Miss Cupcakes stalked out of the door ahead of them. Sidelong glances at Winston, as well as the twitching tip of her tail, indicated that the cat was not going to act like a dog, but was annoyed that she couldn’t follow her girl the way she preferred to do.

Isidor sighed as he pushed past the trio. If Pandy hadn’t known he was a bodyguard, she might have missed the way he looked up and down the hall before moving out of the way so Eleanor could go past. “It’s not like he was really a pirate, anyway,” Isidor said absently. “His father gave him the ship, and then he just took off in it and disappeared for a year.”

Geraldine and Thaniel stopped bickering long enough to stare at the tall boy, then exchanged glances, as if to see if the other one would ask. When neither did, they went back to squabbling, clearly having decided that there was no way Isidor would help.

Abbington just pushed his glasses up his nose, his habitually hunched posture making the strap of his bag almost slide off one shoulder. He was a surprisingly good student, though he had strange holes in his education. He probably had no idea who the current queen was, much less which royal went to sea, but he was the only six-year-old Pandy had ever met who could do multiplication and division in his head.

At lunch, Eleanor sat on the far side of Isidor and Abbington, rather than next to Geraldine, presumably so Thaniel and Geraldine wouldn’t badger her about the pirate prince. Pandy was actually curious who it might have been, because she’d read a lot of lore about Prince Kaden’s family, and none of it had ever mentioned pirates.

Lunch was some kind of fish, with a salad made of adorable baby lettuce with what smelled like vinaigrette, though apparently rabbits didn’t rate dressing, so Pandy had to eat hers dry. She did get Thaniel’s grilled asparagus, which was delicious, and not mushy at all. She also got a bit of his elderberry custard, which made her particularly glad that she hadn’t chosen to go back to their room before lunch, even though that probably would have made the most sense, timing-wise.

She was, however, considering making a break for the door when Chancellor Blackwood stood up. Pandy paused, already halfway out from under the table, as he cleared his throat and said, “I hope everyone enjoyed their first week back at school. I know your teachers are excited to have you here, and we look forward to seeing how you all grow this year.”

He looked toward the farthest table, where most of the fifth-year students sat. “You have, however, already managed to wear out Mr. Holloway. He’s off for the day, and his class on Elemental Affinities will be taught by Ms. Wellington. Please try to be a bit gentler with her.” There was a chorus of groans from several students, but they quickly quieted beneath Mr. Blackwood’s gimlet eye.

Pandy swallowed hard, looking up at Thaniel, who was staring back at her, his expression mirroring the horror she felt. Pandy couldn’t actually teach. It was one thing to pretend to lead Thaniel’s small group, but these were fifth-years. They would definitely realize that she had no idea what she was doing. And it wasn’t like she could just show them the latest remake of West Side Story, like the substitutes when she was growing up.

“You have to go,” Thaniel mouthed.

Pandy tried to mouth, “I can’t!” but that wasn’t how rabbit lips worked, so she just bit her tongue.

The chancellor was still speaking, but neither Thaniel nor Pandy heard a word. Instead, they stared at each other until the bell rang, letting them know it was time to make a decision. Not that Pandy had a chance to make that decision, because Thaniel leaned down and scooped her up, then left the others behind, wiggling through older and taller students until he reached the door leading to the kitchen. Placing her on the ground, he pushed the door open, then gave her a meaningful look.

Why? Why was a six-year-old better at making decisions than she was? Pandy would have dithered until the class was over, and she would have liked it that way. Now she was committed – but Thaniel was right, she couldn’t just shift and head straight to class. For one thing, she didn’t even know where it was. Surely someone had gone looking for Ms. Wellington, though, so maybe there would be a clue in her office? Otherwise, she was going to have to ask someone where she was supposed to go, and that didn’t bear thinking about.

Pandy gave Thaniel one last pleading glance, and he just nudged the door open a bit wider. Pandy hopped through, into a blessedly empty passage, and up the stairs. Halfway up, when she was concealed from anyone standing at the top or bottom of the steps, she thought,

Shifting Faces has already been used today. You have 01:06:11 remaining. Would you like to use it?

she thought, and an instant later she was human and clothed, wobbling only slightly as she shifted from four-legged locomotion to bipedal.

Several staff members were in the hall as she entered it. She recognized a few, including Mr. Rowe, the first-year homeroom teacher, and offered them small, awkward waves as she passed. They gazed after her with expressions ranging from blank stares to sheer confusion. Obviously Ms. Wellington wasn’t particularly friendly, even to her fellow teachers, which Pandy really should have guessed.

When Pandy entered the austere office, she found the usually empty desk occupied by a single piece of paper. On it was a note written in a tidy script, informing her of what Mr. Blackwood had just announced, and, thankfully, it included a room number, as well as a time. Which was pretty much right now.

Whirling, Pandy made her way back out into the hall, down the stairs, and through the dining hall, which was now all but empty. A few people were cleaning up, but all of the students had vanished, including Thaniel and the others. Out into the foyer, and there she paused. Falconet was laid out like Condor, only smaller. The room number for her class – hers! – was 206, which put it on the right-hand side of the second floor. Lifting her skirts around her calves, Pandy ran for it.