Pegasi and Prefects (13 page)

CHAPTER SIX

SECRETS

The immediate result of our adventure is actually that I see less of Rosalind than I ever did before. I can’t go check on Sunflame that evening, both because I don’t want to draw particular attention to my movements and because I’m overwhelmed with duties. I’d been a prefect last year, of course, but I candidly admit I slacked and let Cecily do the bulk of my chores while I went flying. I really had no conception of how much is expected of a Senior Prefect. Besides, Sunflame really wants Rosalind, not me. So much is clear.

So Rosalind is absent during dinner break and after lessons, presumably having slipped out to see to her charge, while I work and fret and can’t see to either of them. It’s horrid in one way, and rather a relief in another. I need time to thrust back the feelings of that night and prepare myself to behave casually and naturally around her.

One of my duties is to take turns with the other prefects, checking that the lower forms are tucked into bed on time and don’t talk after lights out. Once the Pink Dorm, with their cheeky demands for bedtime stories, are at last quiet in their beds with the lights out, I make my way back to my study, exhausted. For once I’m not dreading the thought of finding a crowd there. I tell myself that I will be friendlier this time, make Rosalind feel at home.

The only person waiting for me is Esther.

“It’s too bad, having to share a study with that cream puff of a Valerie, but Diana on top of her is too much to take!” she says in disgust. She thrusts a bundle of papers at me. “You don’t need to tell me you are about as good at acting as you are at needlework, darling. Read for me anyway. Unlikely as it seems to cast you as a woman of wisest wit, I need a Blanche, and I couldn’t be fagged going across to another House after dark. So much trouble avoiding the prefects on the way.”

I grin at her, repressing a queer little stab of disappointment, and prepare to tackle blank verse like a man. It’s odd, to be disappointed that Esther isn’t Rosalind. I’ve always enjoyed Esther’s company immensely.

The next evening, I gather that Diana and Valerie have already descended on the study shared by Rosalind and Frances. They are conspicuously absent from my study the next night, too.

I hug the hurt to myself. I’d really thought Rosalind and I had established some kind of eternal bond of friendship while caring for the alicorn, silly as that sounds. Now the pointy-eared pixie won’t give me the time of day, not with glamorous Diana around. When our paths do cross out of hours, I turn pointedly away and slip an arm around Esther. Childish of me, I know. I don’t actually need Esther’s quirked lips to tell me so.

In the dorm later that night, catching sight of those large blue eyes watching me across the room once more, expression once again unreadable, I melt a little. Rosalind is a pushover for a bully like Diana, anyone could see that. The girl probably gave her a really nasty time over deserting her and spending the night at Miss Roberts. Then, if Esther is right, Diana’s using Glamours to back up her influence. Only a complete beast could blame Rosalind for wanting to placate her.

It’s possible, in any case, that I really was imagining that we’d forged some kind of bond of sympathy, quite apart from our shared interest in Sunflame. The thing is, the only fair way to decide if we are or are not any kind of particular friends now is to actually talk to her.

While Diana is distracted by brushing out her hair, I make my decision. I walk over to the bed where Rosalind is sorting out her pyjamas, and ask conversationally: “Where did you learn to ride like that?”

Rosalind looks up me, momentarily startled. Then her smile blossoms out, and she begins to tell me about her pony as a child. An earth pony, but a very special and beloved one, it seems. She’s moved onto her first unsuccessful attempt at riding her father’s massive unicorn, while I’m simultaneously telling her about our own stables, both of us talking at once and thoroughly understanding each other, when a pillow hits Rosalind in the face.

She looks flustered and bewildered at the blow. I turn to tell whoever it is off—throwing pillows is not exactly unheard of, but anyone could tell that a girl like Rosalind would be alarmed by it—and meet Cecily’s grin. She’s standing by the door, one hand on the electric light switch.

“I hate to come over all Head Girl, but I’m turning the lights off on the count of twenty. It’s time for all good children to shut their chatterboxes and go to bed.” Her tone is stern, but her brown eyes are shining in approval. “One, two—hurry up, Charles!”

I flee back to my cubicle, laughing and feeling warmed all over. I barely spare a thought for Diana’s sour expression as I pass her.

That’s not entirely true. I do think about Diana’s reaction a bit. I have to admit I’m smug, just a little. I’ve heard Diana try to draw Rosalind out about her family and her background, time after time, and she has never opened up and chattered the way she did tonight. At the very least, she’s given away that her father can afford a very expensive ride. Diana, I suppose, kept trying to persuade Rosalind to talk directly about herself, which is obviously a mistake. Diana should have tried talking about something that actually interests Rosalind without making her feel self conscious. She obviously doesn’t understand her, I tell myself, the way I do.

That night, in the confused half-waking state before real sleep, my dreams are confused. Awkward memories of Roy pushing me against the stable wall to kiss me, yet when I push back it’s Esther smiling her puckish smile at me, her dark eyes sparkling with mischief. In my dream, I close my eyes in shame when I feel soft lips on mine and when I open them again it’s me doing the kissing, my hands pushing back on Rosalind’s narrow shoulders and her hands tangled in my hair.

When I wake the dreams float back behind my eyes, for just a moment, confused and distant now. There’s still a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach, tight and pulsing all at once, anxious and excited. I don’t like it.

It’s all, I think, while knowing exactly how unjust I’m being, Esther’s fault. If she didn’t have that queer, malicious habit of acting like I was an attractive boy she was flirting with, I would never have associated Roy’s awkward kisses with girls at all. It’s unfair to practice her powers of attraction on me. If Esther hadn’t confused me so much, I could become friends with a nice kid like Rosalind without worrying about wanting to kiss her. Esther mixed me up, that’s all.

If I want to become unmixed, it’s important to dismiss the whole thing from my mind. I don’t want it to get in the way of my new, fragile friendship with Rosalind. Because I like Rosalind, dreadfully much, I know that. The way she lights up and becomes herself around fabled beasts, the way she drained her energy to heal the little alicorn and spent even more on me and didn’t say a word about it, the kind of earnest simplicity in the way her eyes look through those thick spectacles when she talks. She’s, well,
nice
.

There is one thing, or rather girl, that I neglect to take fully into consideration when I weigh things up and decide in favour of pursuing a normal, straightforward friendship with Rosalind. Diana Struthers.

When I catch Rosalind after prayers the next morning and ask her if she is free to come riding that evening, a rare, precious free evening, Diana looks daggers at me.

“Rosalind’s busy. She promised to help with my Magical Theory composition.”

“I can help you with your prep in break and still make it to the stables with Charley.” Rosalind’s eyes are pleading, although I’m unsure at which of us the plea is directed.

Diana tosses her auburn head. “I don’t know why you’re always sneaking off to the stables now. You never wanted to go riding before.”

Rosalind takes a deep breath. “I
did
. I said so. But you don’t like horses, and you said you detested Miss Roberts. She’s really quite wonderful, you know. You should give her another chance.”

Diana scowls, her face ugly for a moment, and then it relaxes. Her expression is very sweet when she looks down into Rosalind’s face, turning it to her with a finger under her chin. “You don’t want to go getting tired out, Rosalind. Look how exhausted you were last time. It would be a shame if you caught a chill; you know you’re supposed to be careful. Stay in at the school where it’s warm.”

Rosalind’s set expression begins to waver and melt as she looks limpidly back up at Diana. I have no way of knowing for sure, just the new knowledge Esther has given me, but I am suddenly certain that Diana is using Glamours to make Rosalind give in. It’s surely not normal for a girl to turn into a puddle of cream because another girl has her face in her hand.

My anger, always slow to ignite, is starting to rise in me, when Rosalind shakes her head abruptly and pulls away. “I’d like to go riding with Charley, Diana. I promise I’ll still help you with your composition. In break.”

I could hug her in pride and gratitude for the moment of defiance. I try not to show my glee too obviously.

Diana, for her part, looks utterly blank with shock. “If you’re set on riding, perhaps we could go together some day,” she says uncertainly.

Rosalind actually laughs. “You know you couldn’t keep up with me, Diana. I’ve been riding since I was a small child.” She smiles across at me. “I’d love to come, Charley.”

I know that Rosalind is fighting Diana’s magic because she needs to see her Sunflame again more than anything in the world. That’s all it is, really, not anything about choosing me over Diana. Still, I have the sneaking feeling that I somehow won some huge battle when Rosalind pulled away from her friend.

Miss Roberts lets Rosalind take Sunshine out without question. I gather that the unicorn is going to be Rosalind’s usual ride and that she is allowed, in defiance of all school rules, to take him out alone if she chooses. It’s an extraordinary amount of trust for Miss Roberts to extend to a new girl, especially one she must know is keeping something from her. I wonder if it’s because of my own long friendship with Miss Roberts, or because of the direct blue gaze of Rosalind’s eyes. Perhaps it’s simply that Miss Roberts, like me, tends to trust people that fabled beasts trust.

“I’m glad you came with me,” I say, just to make Rosalind give her sweet, rare smile. It makes me happy that I can draw it out.

When we reach the right point in the cliff path, Rosalind dismounts and leads Sunshine, while Ember and I flap lazily above.

The little alicorn, all long limbs and eagerness, is overjoyed to see us. I can feel the happiness glowing from her, and I swear I can feel it in Rosalind as well, rising in joyful answer. Sunflame’s nearly well already, much better, surely, than she would naturally be. When we undress the alicorn’s wound, it’s free of infection, nicely closed and already healing. I wonder just how much of her energy Rosalind has been pouring into it.

“We can’t keep doing this for long,” I say slowly. “It’s dangerous to teach her to stay in one place.”

“I know.” Under the shadow of her bowler hat, Rosalind’s mouth is set in a firm line.

As Rosalind’s clever hands start to pull out the stitches, I stroke the alicorn soothingly and tell my friend that I’ve written to my eldest brother still at home, Harry. He’s working under Father at the stables, and I know he’s always up for a dare. Maybe he can produce false papers for the little one, pretending she is from one of our mares, and after all Rosalind’s birthday is coming up… I trail off. I know deep in my heart that it would be a crime to separate Rosalind and Sunflame, looking at the trust the little thing has in her, the loving way she is dealing with the baby’s wounds. I know perfectly well that an expensive fabled beast is hardly the kind of gift a girl usually gives to a friend of less than a term. There will be all kinds of questions.

I can’t think of any other way to get Sunflame back to Rosalind. It’s equally impossible to keep her at home - it’s not like Father wouldn’t notice a stray alicorn around.

“I’ll ask Mother to buy her for my birthday. She promised I could have anything I like, if I’m careful of myself and get well and stay at school.” Rosalind doesn’t say this as if an alicorn was at all an extraordinary request for her to make. I wonder for a moment what it would be like to have that kind of money, that taken-for-granted ease. We have fabled beasts, of course. It’s just that they are also work, and it can never be taken for granted that the stables are going to remain enough of a paying concern to keep them. “I’ll tell her your brothers brought Sunflame at half term to show me and I fell in love.”

“But—surely she will want to talk to Father about it—”

“Send your brother as an agent.” She tuts at a bead of blood appearing on the wound where she has pulled out a thread, touching it with a delicate fingertip and wiping her finger on her handkerchief. “There, that will do. Brave, brave girl.” She kisses Sunflame’s nose.

“The money. It will be a
lot
of money,” I say, blankly. My parents rarely sell anything as rare as an alicorn; we survive mostly on the trade from miniature dragonlings. “Harry will have to take it, or she’ll know something is up. It feels—well, it feels like stealing from your parents.”

Rosalind stops cuddling Sunflame for a moment, and crosses to me. She puts a hand on my shoulder, looking straight up into my face. “I know,” she says, seriously. “It’s not a perfect plan. I hate so much to ask anything dishonourable of you, even if I think your family deserves the money anyway, because
you
brought Sunflame to me. I just have to. I can’t leave her here, to be hunted. We’ve been bonded, somehow. If she dies, I’ll die, too.”