Page 51 of Summer

24

GENELLE

Today would have been the wedding.

Or yesterday.

There’s no way to know if Summer escaped, but in my dreams she does. She visits me in all of them. We’re always back home, at the manor, walking through the fields. We’re always doing something so mundane, something that I once found boring but would give anything to do once more.

I am sweeping the hallway when I get the summons.

The headmistress has never summoned me, so I know something must be very wrong. Whatever I’ve done will likely incur a punishment, though I can’t think of what they could take away. Food, warm water, comfort – those are luxuries here, not promises.

As I near the headmistress’s office, I hear a familiar voice, one I thought I’d never hear again.

“I am the Duke of Vestinhoth, and I demand to be treated with respect!” His voice is angry and so horribly loud in these silent halls. It bounces over the bare walls of the hallway, making me hasten my steps.

“I assure you, your grace, we have no intention to disrespect you,” the headmistress says. Her voice drips with disdain.

“Strange, because making me wait this long to see my sister seems like an intentional slight,” Aaoric seethes.

I pause, my foggy brain sorting through the words. Aaoric…the duke?

If this is his ploy to get me out, I will not question it. I doubt Father and Mother personally met with the headmistress; she likely has no idea what they look like. Royalty is so fickle this side of the galaxy, there are likely as many dukes as there are stars. The school has no care for positions or title. Everyone here exists with no false ideas of superiority.

I push the door open to the headmistress’s office and pause inside, dropping into a quick curtsy. “Headmistress, your grace,” I say softly. I don’t dare look up at Aaoric. If I do, I will fracture. He’ll see how miserable I am, and I can’t have him causing a bigger scene.

“Get on the ship, Gennelle,” he demands.

I chance a glance upward. The headmistress’s arms are crossed over her chest, the visible lines of her face set angrily under her hood.

“Yes, your grace,” I reply, waiting for her to resist.

“I will not pay for today,” she tells Aaoric. “She didn’t complete a full day of service.”

“That is fair. Come, Gennelle, your tenure here is over.” Aaoric extends his arm, and I slip mine into his warily. Is this another dream? Have I not truly woken up? I pinch a blister between my fingers, sucking in a breath when it ruptures and pain shoots up my palm. I am awake, this isn’t a dream.

This is real.

Aaoric leads me out of the school and to the launch pad, where our familiar behemoth of a ship waits. I don’t dare look back, expecting the headmistress to chase after us any second and call Aaoric’s bluff. Perhaps she’s pulled out a comm device and looked up what the Duke of Vestinhoth looks like and realizes the male in front of her is not the aged duke.

We don’t speak as he leads me onto the ship and the door closes behind us. It’s not until the ship passes through the atmosphere of the planet that I dare to push my hood back.

Aaoric stands a few feet from me, his gaze intent on me. Next to him is Summer, her eyes wide, her face slack. When she sees me, she throws herself at me, pulling me into her arms.

Her smell is everywhere – her sweat, the shampoo she uses, the scent of the Hothin grass. It’s everything I’ve missed, everything I thought I’d never see again as I bury my face in her.

“You’re safe,” she murmurs. “You’re safe. You’re safe.”

I take a few ragged breaths, begging my body to stay upright and my tears not to fall down my face. I pull away from Summer, wiping my hand quickly to collect them before they fall.

“Clever trick,” I manage, my throat raw. I can’t remember the last time I spoke – days?

“What is?” Summer asks. She’s less than a step from me, her gaze catching on everything I try to hide. My blistered and raw hands, my pale skin, my weight loss, the discomfort of the fabric.

“Posing as the duke, demanding me free. What will Father do when he finds out?” Words come easier, my tongue less of a weight in my mouth.

“It is no trick – I am the Duke of Vestinhoth,” Aaoric clarifies.