After my busy day out on Saturday, I take the Sunday slow and think about stuff. There`s a lot of stuff to think about. I was focused on getting out of the school, so I barely paid any attention to the introductory days. At the least, I want to see if the magic lessons here are any different to the ones at my old school. And I would like to join a handicrafts club if there is one, but I`m not so sure there is—most of the girls who haven`t carried on are the baron`s daughters that were in the old club.

　　Maybe, without me noticing, embroidery is actually a hobby upper-class girls have. Probably not.

　　There`s also unpacking and sorting my stationery and checking my school diary to see which books I should bring tomorrow. I sigh, but it must be done. So I slog through all that and drag it out far longer than it really ought to take. Tired, I hang on long enough for dinner, but end up falling asleep early after a little reading.

　　A maid knocks on my door, the morning call. It`s something I`m so used to that I`ve not given it much thought before, but there`s not really clocks in this world. I mean, there`s clock towers and a grandfather clock at the manor and my father has a watch, but it`s magic—an enchantment. Though these clocks are becoming more common, it`s slow, I guess most effort going towards sinks and toilets for the time being.

　　Anyway, I get myself ready for the day and sit through breakfast by myself, and walk up to the classroom. Like with my last school, the students have a classroom and it`s the teachers who come see us. They just have a book or notes and then write on the blackboard, so it`s not like it`s difficult for them.

　　When I arrive for registration, there`s only a couple of students and our class`s tutor, Mr Milton. He does morning and afternoon registration, and he might announce some school news at the time. He`s also the accounting teacher. As for his personality, he is soft-spoken and probably a pushover. Not a handsome man. I mean, he`s average looking and can probably dress up nicely if he wanted to, but I don`t think any of the girls will be gossiping about him. Maybe that`s intentional on his part.

　　Some students trickle in, most only after the first bell rings. There`s only two years of students at this school, so we`re called juniors and the older year are seniors, and our class is class Rose—the other five classes also being named after flowers. That`s six classes of twenty students, evenly split between boys and girls.

　　In our class itself, I know Violet, and the boy next to me is Evan Sussex—cousin of the duke of Sussex, first son of a count. Really, I only know him because he`s one of the guys from Snowdrop and the Seven Princes. That is, he`s the "bashful" prince. There`s another prince in the class, but he`s an actual prince: Gerald Ventser, grandson of the current king and the heir after his own father.

　　I`m not saying the author of that story was lazy or anything, but that royal surname`s a bit suspect if you know a bit of French.

　　Gerald, or Sir Ventser as I should address him, is the "doc" prince, which, ah, doesn`t make as much sense as the other ones. Basically, he`s leader-y and clever. Yes, clever prince fits him better. He`s also the one that Violet (at least in the story) falls in love with, which is why she starts "harassing" Eleanor who gets close to him.

　　That won`t be a problem for me.

　　Sitting through the boring morning classes, I`m plagued by a common thought: I want to go home. And it`s not clear to me what I mean by that any more. I love my family here, even Clarice and all her teasing. I love them so much. But& Ellie had parents she loved as well, didn`t she?

　　These classes, this place, it all reminds me of who I am now. That is, I`m& trapped. I`m lucky to have parents that gave me plenty of freedom, but I`ve picked up expectations over the years, and I`ll be expected to marry soon, to have children and tea parties with other wives. I don`t know. My parents won`t force me to marry someone harsh, but, even if my husband is kind, it`s not freedom.

　　My mind goes to strange places. If I don`t marry, then Joshua will have to look after me. If I run away, they`ll turn the entire country upside-down to look for me, and can I manage to flee abroad? I only speak English and a pathetic amount of French considering I had French classes for the last three years and another two before with the governess.

　　Catching myself thinking crazy thoughts, I let out a long breath, blank gaze drifting from the blackboard to Gerald sitting at the front.

　　What I really want is to go back to Ellie`s world. Even if I can`t be Ellie, at least I can be free in a way that I can`t be here. Free to live and work and love how I wish.Stolen story; please report.

　　I wish&.

　　My gaze sharpens, the back of Gerald`s head coming into my focus. If I collect the faerie kings` hearts, I`ll be granted a wish. My own heart beats heavily, a lightheaded feeling engulfing me as my brain suddenly rearranges everything I thought I knew, setting the foundations for a most haphazard plan.

　　But there`s a roadblock: I don`t want to sleep with them. Maybe I only need them to fall in love with me and Eleanor just took it a bit further because the author was horny, but I don`t even want to go that far. I mean, that`s not who I am, right? I`m not a tease, or a flirt. I`m not a slut. I`m not the sort of person who would selfishly try to seduce a bunch of guys I`m not interested in. I`m not the sort of person who would play with their hearts, just to see if I can wish myself to Ellie`s world.

　　That`s another thing: I don`t even know if I can wish for that. It might be that magic can`t do it. There wasn`t anything like hopping from one universe to another in the story.

　　But, if there`s a chance, and I don`t have to betray who I am, then I`ll take it.

　　The bell for break rings, seemingly waiting for my thoughts to reach some kind of conclusion. I have nothing to do, so I just flop forward onto my desk in a way that doesn`t at all befit my station. Well, I`m not a train, so whatever.

　　"Excuse me, my lady."

　　I don`t think for a moment those words are directed at me. After all, there`s no boys who would speak to me.

　　"Excuse me, my lady lying on the desk. Are you okay?"

　　Ah, that might be me. I turn my head so my eyes aren`t covered up, and there`s a boy there and, looking up, his gaze meets mine. "Sir Ventser," I say.

　　My thoughts race.

　　Sitting up, I idly brush down the front of my vest to give myself a moment. Much like my old school, the uniform here is a white dress with a vest (the colour royal crimson) over the top for girls, while the boys are in something like a business suit, black trousers and a white buttoned shirt along with a crimson blazer.

　　My thoughts refocus on something useful.

　　I neatly fold my hands in front of me on the table, and I bring my gaze back to meet his. His light brown hair has a reddish tinge to it—where the royal crimson gets its name—and it`s similarly seen in his eyes.

　　"I am Nora de Kent. While I do hope that you will remember my name, I ask that you refrain from falling in love with me."

　　I would ask for a replacement brain, but the problem is probably me given that Ellie wasn`t exactly eloquent either. Though I try to brush over things with a polite smile, I can feel the attention on me, sense the&.

　　Oh, am I flirting with him? Is that what everyone else thinks?

　　He doesn`t show anything but his own polite smile. "Did I wake you from a dream?"

　　I`m annoyed at myself, and as if I`d be dreaming of him. Prat. "No," I say, deciding the less said the better.

　　The silence trickling on, he seems to get the idea. "I see. If you are well, then that`s all that matters."

　　I say nothing.

　　After a second, the boy next to him offers his hand. "Francis de Surrey, a pleasure to make your acquaintance," says& I`ve already forgotten his name.

　　My gaze flickers to his hand for a moment, but I don`t touch it. I mean, this is a classroom and I`m sitting down, right? It`s not an evening party.

　　"And yours," I say.

　　He eventually takes his hand back.

　　I look back to Gerald. He looks at me. "Well, I shall stop disturbing you," he says. "Good day."

　　"And you," I say, bowing my head in lieu of a curtsey.

　　The moment he turns away, I flop forwards again. I`m sure I hear his footsteps pause, but he doesn`t say anything and his footsteps soon continue.

　　It`s all well and good thinking I`ll try to get the faerie kings` hearts, but, really, I can`t even talk to a boy without causing a stir. Whispers brush against my ears. "Can you believe her?" "So rude." "Shameless." Oh go grovel to the prince if you care that much, noisy brats. I`m the one who was just minding her own business when he came over.

　　Before I work myself up too much, I sit up again, stretching out my arms. Idly sweeping my gaze across the room, I shut up a few of the girls. Then I find Evan looking at me. Like a child, he tenses up at being caught.

　　Bashful prince indeed.

　　I bow my head to him, and say, "Nora de Kent. You are Evan Sussex, yes?"

　　While Gerald is tall and a bit on the thin side, Evan is a normal height and a bit on the other side of thin, but I wouldn`t call him chubby or stocky. It`s like, I feel he`s very sturdy and I don`t know if he is strong, but he looks like he should be. Rather than a green tone to his dark brown hair, it`s more like specks, and his eyes are vividly green (albeit an olive green).

　　He glances away, and then back. Unlike Gerald`s confident voice, Evan speaks softly, a little deeper. "Yes," is all he says.

　　"I hope we may be good neighbours," I say.

　　His nervous attention stays on me.

　　I feel like I`m bullying him, so I give him a last smile, and then turn to stare at the blank paper where my notes from the morning should have been. It`s not that someone stole them, I just didn`t write any. The first lessons are never important.

　　In the book, the princes were the boys that a lot of the girls liked. Gerald has his natural charm, raised with confidence and all that blah, with some royal propaganda thrown in. Evan`s charm is, well, his teddy-bear nature. (Incidentally, there are bears here, but they only eat berries and fruits, never other animals or honey.) He looks a bit tough and yet is polite and shy and just a big softie at heart.

　　I mean, I see the appeal, but it makes me want to tease him more than date him, you know? Be a little mean and then apologise with a cupcake or a muffin.

　　That`s& I should be careful, otherwise I`ll end up addicted to making him cry. I`m blaming Clarice—I learnt the joy of teasing younger siblings from her. Though I say that, it might be hereditary, my mother not much better.

　　I suddenly feel rather sorry for my father.