Royal Reboot: Level up, Your Majesty!

Queen vs. Town

St. Kevin’s handed out freedom with the stinginess of a Fairy Godmother: just enough to silence complaints, never enough to actually enjoy. A latte, a few overpriced trinkets, maybe a pair of shoes before the magic wore off at precisely… 6 p.m., dinnertime. Tomato, tomahto.

Anyway.

The Fairy Godmother’s version of trust came in the form of strictly scheduled outings: bi-monthly town visits for juniors and bi-weekly ones for seniors. “More responsibility” supposedly equalled “more freedom.” In practice it meant precisely two unsupervised hours, generous, if one ignored the missing students and the distinct lack of a Prince Charming.

Princess Charming however... 

Eydis glanced outside from her bus window seat and spotted Astra strolling toward their yellow chariot, fashionably late, naturally.

While the students were required to wear their uniforms during the town trip, Astra, as ever, played by her own rules. Denim jacket, black choker: fashion statement or a rebellion so smooth it was criminal? With her, it was always both. Eydis felt a sudden pang of—

Not a word, Envy.

It's not envious you're feeling—

Envy’s voice fizzled as she shifted back to more pressing matters.

Today’s trip felt different. Maybe, just maybe, this would be the day she finally caught that elusive familiar who operated outside the academy’s walls. Failing that, retail therapy would do.

She pressed her forehead to the glass, plotting the two-hour window. Envy could sweep for magical anomalies while she pursued a mission of far greater urgency: new contact lenses, purely practical of course. No vanity involved. None. 

She nudged her glasses back into place, only for them to slide down again.

Maybe mild vanity.

Red hair flashed at the edge of her vision. Josiah—yes, that was it—the boy who always looked like he’d eaten something suspicious and was waiting for the consequences. Someone really should introduce him to the concept of fiber. Or laxative.

“Uh, hey, is this seat taken?”

“Jeremiah, all seats reserved.”

“Actually, it’s Jo—”

One arched brow ended the conversation. Sure enough, Josianwhatever got the message and beat a hasty retreat to the back of the bus.

Disappointing. 

Usually, Eydis wasn’t alone on these trips to town. Either Natalia or the Koala Twins tagged along. If Natalia was involved, she would be dragged (enthusiastically, of course) from one cheese shop to the next. 

The girl ate like a bull, yet somehow, the Koala Twins never seemed to question how she maintained a physique that was anything but Gifted.

Today the human golden retriever was probably training, fuelled by volcanic grit and an alarming marshmallow intake. Disturbing. Fire-affinity metabolism, maybe; a curse, more likely.

A… curse?

She couldn’t dwell on it when dark oak and cardamom reached her, the perfume so startlingly good, so familiar that Eydis’s head jerked up on instinct.

Astra stood in the aisle before her.

Eydis, ever graceful, nearly elbowed the armrest into oblivion.

"Roommate by misfortune, babysitter by even greater misfortune, I presume?" Eydis recovered quickly.

"Limited seating," Astra deadpanned. She lingered, awkward in a way that almost made Eydis smile. Astra glanced toward the back of the bus, where the only open seat was next to Jo-sephina, who was now practically folding himself in half to make room, grinning like a lovesick puppy.

Astra’s gaze flicked back to the seat beside Eydis. Calculating.

“This seat appears mysteriously unclaimed by perpetually scowling girls with tragic social skills,” Eydis said, patting the cushion. “What’s the hold-up? I thought we bonded last night.”

"Unclaimed? Even with your ego taking up half the bus?” Astra said, amusement flickering before the scowl reset. “And bonded?”

Eydis’s grin widened. “Reservations can be revoked. My ego is extremely flexible, Your Highness of Grumpiness. Especially after the unforgettable… physical affection you subjected me to last night.”

A collective gasp swept the bus. Heads spun with reckless disregard for neck safety.

Astra’s ears flushed, clashing magnificently with silver hair; Eydis almost wanted the scene framed.

Perfect. She’d meant to annoy Astra enough to make her leave. Instead, Astra dropped into the seat beside her with a thud and an even louder huff.

Eydis sighed internally. The Ice Princess it was.

The bus rumbled forward. Cardamom, engine hum, and familiar exhaustion coaxed Eydis into a light doze.

For a moment, she was somewhere else: soft murmurs, warmth at her shoulder, fingers combing silky black hair. Then a nudge, another, pulling her back.

She jerked awake, nose inches from Astra’s crimson stare.

"Did I fall asleep on you?" she mumbled, expecting the Astra-brand death glare.

Astra’s mouth twitched, almost gentle. “No, I simply enjoy sitting perfectly still while someone drools on me.”

Eydis blinked. Had she stumbled into an alternate universe? Wouldn’t be the first time.

“I don’t drool,” she protested.

Astra gave her a pointed look.

Eydis narrowed her eyes. “You’re awfully chatty today. Are you possessed?”

Astra rose. “You’re more tolerable when unconscious, by the way.”

“Flattery and conversation? Careful, people might start thinking you like me.” Eydis couldn’t hold back a smile. “Now, would Your Grumpiness be so kind as to—”

“No.” Yet a corner of Astra’s lips lifted before she walked off.

Eydis watched her go, smile lingering as she hefted her bag.

The nearest town to St Kevin’s could have been clipped from a travel brochure: white-washed cottages, slow jazz drifting from upstairs windows, the smell of espresso pooled in every laneway. The CBD was four hours away; for now, this slice of charm would do nicely.

A delivery truck thundered past, shoving a gust ahead of it that sent dry leaves, startled caterpillars and more dust than anyone deserved spinning down the street. 

Fortunately, Eydis’s glasses saved her eyes.

She sighed, tugged her green blazer straight and ducked into the first café she saw. Despite the nearing closing hour, the place was buzzing. Mostly retirees: grey hair, sharper tongues, fingers wrapped around cups or flicking holographic screens. Natalia called this their “office hour.”

Eydis claimed a table, tasted her latte, and exhaled. Real coffee at last instead of that foul, brown broth at St. Kevin’s.

One glance at the window made her wince. Red-rimmed eyes stared back, courtesy of too little sleep and an optician who thought “contact-lens fitting” meant light torture.

"Two more visits," the quack had chirped, "and then maybe we'll talk about a prescription!"

Eydis had just smiled, already setting a better plan in motion: a strategically placed serpent to send the optician fleeing with impressive agility. Snakes were common enough around here, go figure. She’d even heard horror stories about pythons cozying up in people’s toilets up north. 

The commotion had bought her plenty of time to “borrow” a few lenses.

I must say, Your Majesty, dragging me into scare tactics is beneath my station, Envy huffed.

The purse-decorator job is still open, Eydis retorted.

Envy grumbled.

Find anything suspicious? she asked.

Nothing odd in town so far, but I did spend a concerning amount of time avoiding your ever-vigilant roommate.

What’s wrong? she teased. Afraid she might best you?

Only one creature in existence terrifies me, and unfortunately, I work for her.

Eydis smirked and let her gaze drift to the café’s holographic news feed. A polished anchor interviewed a man in a charcoal suit. Neat hair, attentive green eyes. He looked like Tiffany minus the leopard print and the volume dialed to polite.

“Sir Thomas, why run for Senate this year?” the anchor asked.

A shadow crossed Thomas’s face. He breathed in, out. “Tiffany,” he said, voice trembling slightly. “My daughter.”

The anchor gave a small nod. “We understand she’s still in a coma. I’m so sorry for what your family is going through.”

Thomas nodded, swallowed. “If I can make the city she loves better… maybe she’ll wake up.”

One tear clung to his lashes before he blinked it away.

Eydis arched a brow, barely suppressing the urge to applaud. For a girl like Tiffany—Tiffany, who hoarded validation like air, who burned with envy over things she couldn’t hold? As if. 

She hadn’t known he was running for… whatever that was. The students at St. Kevin’s had little interest in politics unless it involved a scandal, a breakup, or a cheating rumor.

So Eydis did the logical thing.

She pulled out her phone, opened Tweeter, and searched the election hashtags.

Immediate regret.

The flood of unsolicited nudity that assaulted her royal eyes was proof enough that the platform’s filter had long since given up. No wonder she'd abandoned this social media platform.

Chatter from across the café stole her attention.

“Thomas is ahead.” 

“Another Blackwood? Fantastic. Because billionaires have never misbehaved.” 

“It’s rigged. That family bleeds us dry.” 

“But… his daughter…”

Eydis had already tuned it out; she’d heard enough. The sudden disappearance and Thomas’s inexplicable rise. The Blackwoods. Again. They were always at the center of the rot. And if she had to bet, a certain missing familiar with a taste for manipulation was right where it wanted to be.