• Well, here I am, starting the apparent ‘most important part of my education’ in this hell-hole. This is so pointless…

    It was Felitia Rosewood’s first day at the Academy of Noble Blood and she was nervous. She had just turned fourteen, the age when all Elves of noble birth are required to attend the Academy for education for ruling their province if the day came round.

    She had spent just over a week travelling here from her province, Rosewood. After only arriving that morning, after a hard night of rain, she had already had enough of this strange new community that she would have to call her home for the next three years.

    The Academy of Noble Blood was a fair sized yet dull compound, not much different from any other upper class lodging she had visited. Isolated in a solitary area of coniferous forest in the centre of Elvenrealm, there was not much to discover or entertain anyone, certainly not a recently turned fourteen year old girl with an extremely active imagination.

    As she wandered around the cramped corridors, constantly checking the map of the grounds she held delicately in her hands, a clique of girls turned round, staring disapprovingly at her. Felitia continued walking, trying to avoid eye contact, hearing the girls snicker amongst themselves from behind her back. A gang of boys walked rowdily past her, shoving her into the wall.

    “Watch it freakazoid!” the fattest snorted, the rest starting to laugh like pigs.

    I knew it. I told Mum they would all be a bunch of stuck up weeds.

    “Sorry,” she mumbled quietly.

    ~

    A tall boy sitting on a wide window sill alone noticed a new face in the corridor. He watched her wandering aimlessly, surveying the hallway as she went along, and was unusually interested. He briefly made eye contact with her. His heart leapt and he averted his gaze for a second then saw her disappear round the corner. Looking down at his hands, he went back to fiddling with an ornate button he had found on the floor earlier.

    ~

    Felitia had seen the boy on the window sill looking at her, but had dismissed him as just some second or third year student who she probably would hardly ever talk to. Besides, she had found out where she was going now and would need to concentrate on getting there on time for her first lesson. She had heard that the staff at the Academy were quite strict when it came to punctuality and she definitely did not want to risk getting in trouble on her first day.

    Entering the dull, whitewashed History classroom, she saw that quite a few of her classmates had got there before her. Taking some time to observe the room, she glanced at several discoloured maps and texts mounted in frames on the wall. The layout of the room was pretty standard – the desks ordered in neat rows and columns, a couple of bookshelves near the back of the room, a well used blackboard at the front and the teacher’s desk, piled books, parchment and a pot of quills consuming the space.

    The bell rang and everyone headed toward their desks, and a particular boy dashed in almost bumping into Felitia. She recognised him instantly.

    It’s the boy from the window sill. He’s pretty tall for a first year.

    “Sorry,” he said quickly and sat down in his seat at the back of the class.

    The teacher entered, striding in pride fully. Everyone stood in silence, ceasing the chatter immediately. Solemnly, not liking the situation one bit, Felitia waited at the back, eyes low as not to draw any attention to herself.

    “Good morning first years,” the teacher declared as if he were addressing his own kingdom.

    “Good morning Professor Remsum,” the class chanted nonchalantly, except a certain boy whose mind was elsewhere.

    “You may be seated,” Remsum commanded; the class obeyed. Felitia sat down in the nearest free desk, which happened to be next to the tall boy.

    Professor Deimos Remsum stood tall and pompous at the front of the classroom. His dull green eyes and greying crew-cut hair showed just how long it had taken to acquire this position. His whole demeanour was echoing bitterness and cynicism; it was like he would willingly take out any frustration, however small, on any unlucky bystander, only make it seem a million times worse. Felitia predicted that this seemingly arrogant man was not going to be one of her greatest allies.

    “Now, as I’m sure you are all aware of, we have a new first year joining us today, Felitia…Rosewood.” He said her last name distastefully, pulling a sour expression; she knew why.

    “cough Freak!” came an unpleasant voice from the class.

    “That’s enough Ganymede!” shouted the teacher. “Now I’m sure you’ll all give her the respect she dues and offer her good advice on life in the Academy. So, picking up where we left off yesterday, the People’s Reform…”

    Felitia could hardly keep her eyes open.

    All this talk of History is such a drag. All those facts and dates, it’s all ‘Aiaridean society’ blah blah ‘Anyater ancestry’ blahdy blah et cetera, et cetera.

    “…The Battle of Ainan Moor was where the rebels and the Warlocks met and fought savagely in their thousands…”

    What? Something about Warlocks?

    “…but it was the captain of the fifth sector, Umbriel Racor, who defeated the Warlock magnate, Oberon. The Warlocks’ evil reign had finally come to and end…”

    Evil? That can’t be right. Mum always told me Warlocks were peacekeepers, that their sole desire was to maintain harmony in Elvenrealm. She would never lie. Well maybe the stories about dragons and Fire-Nymphs and Nightmears were made up, but everyone knows Warlocks were real. Mum should know; she heard from Grandmother who was there, at the actual battle, along with Grandfather.

    She was trapped in thought.

    ~

    And so was a certain boy. He observed Felitia, intrigued. His icy blue eyes gazed at her flowing golden hair, and strong bone structure, her flawless nose and soft pink lips, her sparkling turquoise eyes and long, dark eyelashes. She was so perfectly slim, in shape and unblemished that he was surprised he could not see a halo on her head. He was utterly astonished that she could be so beautiful yet everyone seemed to despise her. He did not see an ounce of imperfection in her fragile yet strong face. He sensed her apprehension, as Elves have a sixth sense for detecting emotion, but deeper, he could see in her an eager, ambitious, fiery spirit. What was just fascination a minute previously had morphed into captivation.

    “Pay attention Jared,” came the voice of Remsum, interrupting him from his coma of deep admiration.

    “Yes, sorry sir,” he said quietly as he reluctantly shifted his gaze from Felitia to the textbook laid out in front of him. But he could not resist looking back. He watched her for a few seconds, then her head half turned, threatening to catch him in the act of gawping. His heart started racing and he turned his head quickly in a desperate flurry to remain unnoticed.

    ~

    Felitia sensed the tall boy, Jared, watching her. She did not know whether this was another malevolent kid who was intent on making her life miserable, or whether he was different from the others and that she could consider him as an ally. He did not look too bad himself. He had jet-black hair in a slight mohawk that fell in his face a bit and was quite thin and pale. His eyes were the colour of aquamarine which, despite their rebellious appearance at first, gave way to a more vulnerable spirit, twisted with fear and apprehension.

    But she could not be too careful. The last thing she wanted was attention; she would just avoid everyone, keep quiet and stick to the sidelines. She knew the kind of people in the Academy inside out. She saw them at her home, Rosewood Hall, all the time.

    They think they’re all high and mighty when they’re not. Always going about the place like it’s theirs for the controlling. Well it’s not. Especially Orin. He’s the worst. Always after Mum’s job. That little son of a…

    “Felitia, who was the founder of the Reform?” Remsum asked expectantly.

    Her eyes widened.

    Oh crap! I haven’t been listening to a word. I’m gonna be in such big trouble.

    “I don’t know sir,” she said hesitantly, cringing.

    “This is not a good start Felitia. I’ll see you after class,” Remsum said disapprovingly. Most of the class snickered and smirked, needless to say, apart from a particular boy, who just stared at his twitching fingers.

    “Jared.”

    No reply.

    “Jared Elmwood!” Remsum bellowed slamming his fists down on the boy’s desk.

    “Can you help Miss Rosewood with the simple question she failed to answer?” he said scornfully.

    Jared glanced at Felitia who was staring sadly back, held his gaze for a few seconds, and then shifted his eyes onto the floor.

    “Pitiful,” the teacher spat. “You’ll be joining Miss Rosewood in detention.”

    The lesson continued, and Felitia tried her best to look interested. Fortunately, Remsum did not ask any more questions of her, otherwise she probably would have ended up with a weeks worth of detentions.

    The bell rang and the class filed out, chattering, except Jared, who waited silently behind his desk until everyone had gone then packed up his books and exited solemnly.

    “Felitia,” Remsum called, just as she was entering the hallway. She stopped and turned round slowly.

    Crap.

    “Don’t think I’ve forgotten our little talk.”

    She sighed and walked back in.

    “This is not a good start…”

    Yes, you’ve already told me that.

    “…You’d better get your act together. You are the only heir to your family’s throne. It is your duty to make sure that you receive a good education, and not paying attention in class is certainly not helping. That puts a lot of responsibility on your shoulders…”

    You don’t mean that. You want Orin to take the throne, don’t you, just like everyone else. You don’t care about my education; you just want to give me the hardest time possible just because you think my mum is a wacko.

    “…Now, do you know what makes a good leader? Well it certainly isn’t day dreaming. The Academy is not here for you to enjoy. It is here to provide the necessary education to ensure that you rule your province efficiently and to the best of your ability in the possible future….”

    Nag, nag, nag.

    “…Now, do you know what happens to those who do not give a damn about this education, hm?” Remsum spat, his face turning a shade of beetroot.

    “No sir,” Felitia whispered.

    “You are degraded, and if it continues to worsen, you are deemed redundant and therefore
    unfit to rule your province. You are then expelled, disgraced, and as a worst case scenario, banished. So, Miss Rosewood, do you really want to bring that upon yourself?”

    I wish!

    “No sir,” she answered.

    “Good, then you are dismissed.”

    Finally!

    “Thank you, sir,” she said, a hint of sarcasm ringing in her voice. She clutched her books to her chest as she briskly walked out of the room, just noticing a certain boy leaning against the wall by the doorway in the corner of her eye. Not daring to turn back, she continued down the corridor to her next lesson, needlework.

    ~

    As soon as she had disappeared around the corner, Jared walked the opposite way towards the stairs leading to the main lawn, still fiddling with the button he had found earlier.

    *****

    Felitia sat at the back of the needlework classroom, next to a large arched window, utterly bored. She had started a tapestry, copying a design off a sheet of parchment, but it had turned into shambles after five minutes. She sighed and looked around. All the other girls seemed to be doing fairly well, gossiping amongst themselves as well as creating pretty good works of art. Head on the desk, she started to complain to herself whilst fiddling with the needle.

    Who am I kidding; I’m not cut out for all this ruling the province business. Stupid, blasted Academy. Stupid, blasted teachers. They’re all weeds, all of them.

    Again, her mind began to drift. It took her back to her home in the Relizean Forest where, when she was little, she would pretend to fight imaginary foes. Inspired by her mother’s stories, she would run about the trees masquerading as a Warlock and battling invisible dragons. Protecting the nearby village from fictional beasts was, as far a she was concerned, her duty to her kingdom. Teaching herself swordplay and self-defence, she could outwit any servant sent to fetch her for her privately tutored lessons. Even the guards knew not to take her likely.

    So what if the Warlocks were ‘evil’. It’s less fun that way.

    “Ow!” she exclaimed. She had pricked herself with the needle. She did not complain; instead, she just sucked her finger until the bleeding ceased. Looking at what was supposed to be a half finished tapestry (more like a bird’s nest), she groaned.

    Let’s face it. I’ve never been normal. I never will be. What kind of girl would rather climb trees and get dirty than play with dolls or have tea parties? Well, I guess that’s me. How can anyone ask me to change?

    “Having, problems Felitia?” the needlework teacher, Mrs Brumich, asked. She picked up the pile of wool and sighed.

    “tut tut tut, I bet even a rat wouldn’t use this as bedding.” She looked pitifully at Felitia with her owl-like eyes. For a moment, she thought Brumich was about to say something constructive.

    “Dear, dear. What am I to do with you? Of course I am not blaming you. It is all in the blood you see. Of course I would not expect you to understand about blood; that is all in the blood as well.” She trotted off to inspect the other girls’ work.

    Oh, you would say that wouldn’t you. Isn’t anyone here sensible enough to realise there’s nothing wrong with me?

    The group of girls on the other side of the room could be heard chatting amongst themselves. Every so often they would shoot Felitia nasty looks. Felitia could only look away; she knew they were talking about her. Their voices in hushed tones were spiteful and dripping with hate. The sinister words ricocheted into her ears and through her mind. They made her feel despised and filthy with some sort of dreaded disease, like a parasite. She frequently heard the words, ‘b***h’ and ‘retard’. All she could do was close her eyes and wish herself away. She took a deep breath and said quietly to herself,

    “I don’t need anybody. I don’t care what they think of me. All I have to do is stay quiet and do as I’m told and everything will be fine.’’

    She looked solemnly out the window at the boys practicing their fighting skills, except for one particular boy.

    Jared, isn’t it? He seems different from the others – abnormally quiet and surprisingly day dreamy. And he didn’t seem to take to me like the rest of the class. He seems nice enough. Woah, hold up. I’ve got to spend detention with him this afternoon. Better not get too hopeful. It could all change without a moment’s notice. Who knows, he might just be exactly like the others.

    I wonder why he’s sitting on the sidelines. Maybe he’s in trouble. What could he have done? And what’s that in his hands? He’s been fiddling with it all morning. Oh this is crazy. Why am I so drawn to him? Everyone else seems to ignore him. It’s probably just because, as I’ve been told, I have a keen eye for spotting things that in even in small ways differ from the norm. But maybe there’s something deeper attracting me to him and, as I’ve noticed, him to me. Well, whatever it is, I’m not going to let it distract me. As far as I’m concerned, he’s just someone who’s there; no one particularly special.

    She picked up her woolly mess and started to untangle the thread, hoping she could salvage at least a few of the materials.