Chapter 40 – A Meeting with the Headmistress/ Lady Catalina Breegar

Chapter 40

A Meeting with the Headmistress/ Lady Catalina Breegar

            As we approach a set of double doors at the end of the corridor, the doors open and a girl with long white hair steps out, a small stack of books held against her body by her right hand.  Carefully, she closes the doors.  Standing with her back to us, she sighs heavily and leans against the left one, her forehead resting on the dark wood of the door.  She is wearing the school’s uniform and is just a little taller than me, probably somewhere between mine and Mari’s height. 

            As we draw closer, the girl turns around and starts to walk towards us, her eyes on the floor.  She looks to be around my age, her face more pretty than cute.  Her mouth is set in a frown, and she seems to be upset about something.  As she draws nearer, she looks up, her steps faltering as her grey eyes widen.

            “…Beira?” 

            A faint memory pops up in the back of my mind.  Me passing her the class notes from the day before because she has been out sick.  The memory fades almost as fast as it came, catching me off guard and I blink, pausing in my step.

            “I-I…” I hesitate for a moment before continuing with a nod.  “Yes?”

            To my right, my mother has stopped, not saying anything, just watching me as if studying how I respond.

            The girl steps closer, her eyes settling on my golden lock of hair for just a moment before moving on as if to take everything about me in.

            “It really is you,” she says, as if she can’t believe her eyes.  “I had heard you were back in the city, but…”

            She pauses as she notices my mother standing to the side, watching our interaction. 

            “Good morning, Duchess Braemar,” she says, popping off a near perfect curtsey considering she is carrying three books.

            “Good morning, Lady Kincaid,” my mother replies warmly, a touch of a smile on her face.  “How are your parents?”

            “They are both doing well, thank you for asking.  They currently have their hands full with my youngest brother,” she answers.

            “That is good to hear, dear.  Newborns can be quite a handful,” my mother says.  “I’ll have to call on her soon and catch up.”

            “I’m sure she would appreciate that,” she replies with a smile.

            “If you’ll excuse me,” my mother gives the faintest of a nod, “I need to see Headmistress Ardel.  Beira, wait here.”

            “Y-yes, Mother,” I say with a nod as my mother walks to the double doors with purpose.  She opens them and enters, no hesitation, not even knocking.  I turn my attention back to the girl I now know as Lady Kincaid.

            “I’m sorry… Lady Kincaid, was it?”  I gesture vaguely to my head.  “I’m still…”

            “Oh!  Right.  Lena.  You can call me Lena,” she says quickly, her expression softening.  “Princess Isabella had mentioned that you had lost some of your memories.”

            I nod.

            She shifts her books slightly, fidgeting with them after one threatens to slide out of her grasp.

            “We used to sit next to each other in world history,” she says, smiling.  “You would always correct the instructors when they got something wrong.”

            “That s-sounds like something I would…”  My voice trails off.

            No, that wasn’t me.

            She must have seen something in my expression because her smile falters, just slightly.

            “It’s been a while,” she says quickly.

            After several seconds of, not quite uncomfortable silence, she speaks up again.

            “Are you coming back?” she asks.

            I hesitate before nodding.

            “I-I… yes.  Yes, I am,” I say, more confidence in my voice with the second confirmation.

            Her expression brightens a little.

            “That’s good,” she says.  “It’s been­-”

            “Beira.”

            My mother’s voice interrupts Lena.

            We both look towards the now open door where my mother now stands, waiting, her posture as composed as ever.

            “Come.”

            She turns around and walks back into the office, not waiting to see if I respond.

            I look to Lena, apology in my eyes.

            “It’s fine,” she says quickly.  “We can talk later.”

            I nod.

            “I’ll see you around, then?” she adds, an edge of hope hidden under uncertainty in her voice.

            I give her a small smile and nod briefly before walking past her toward the office.  The door was still slightly open.  When I reach the door I step inside, taking one last glance at Lena before closing it.  She is still standing where we spoke, her back toward me.  I close the door.

            Inside the office is quieter, not only in sound, but in atmosphere.  The air inside is calm, not quite peaceful, as there is an underlying tension in the air.  The room itself is simple and neat.  On the left wall, sit shelves lined with well-organized volumes of what I’m assuming are some kind of academic books.  Each volume’s spine is simply numbered at the top and graced with a single name at the base, Ardel.  Both the wall to the right and behind the lone desk are graced with large windows that let in ample sunlight.  The desk is also neat and tidy, with several papers in a tray on one front corner, while a few books stand between bookends on the other.  These, unlike the ones on the shelves, have multiple names listed, one of them is even a particular novel I had finished on the trip to Aberling.  At the center front of the desk is a wedged nameplate that reads ‘Headmistress Arbor Ardel’.

            My mother walks over and stands beside the desk, back to the window, a position that lets her easily observe the whole room.

            Behind the desk sits an older woman with greying brown hair who doesn’t rise at my entry.  For a moment, she and my mother lock eyes, then my mother gives a slight nod as if confirming something.  The woman’s gaze shifts to me.

               “Lady Braemar,” she says.

               I dip into a small curtsey.

              “Headmistress.”

               “It is good to see that you have recovered,” she says, motioning to the lone chair in front of the desk.

               There’s something in the way she says it that makes me hesitate for a moment.

               “Th-thank you,” I reply, quickly making my way to the chair and sitting.

               “As I mentioned earlier, we are here to finalize my daughter’s return for the upcoming semester…” my mother says after I sit.

               “Of course.  I already had the necessary paperwork drawn up.  They only need to be signed by the duchess and you” the headmistress says.

               Wow, that was fast.

               As if sensing my thoughts, the headmistress answers.

               “I procured them as soon as Princess Isabella returned and began talking about your awakening,” she explained with a faint smile.  “We have already made the necessary accommodations regarding your absence, and your instructors have already been informed to expect you back after the summer break.”

               “There is one additional matter,” my mother says.

               “Go on,” the headmistress instructs, looking at my mother.

               “There are aspects of my daughter’s condition that require… discretion.”  My mother says, her voice lowering slightly.

               The headmistress’s gaze settles back at me, lingering for a moment before she speaks.

               “I see.”

               No, I’m not sure you do.

               “This information will not remain private indefinitely,” my mother continues. “However, for the time being, it must be contained.”

               “Understood,” Headmistress Ardel says, looking at my mother for a moment before giving a nod.

               She leans back slightly, her attention settling fully on me now.

               “As I explained earlier, my daughter is still suffering from some… extensive memory loss.  That isn’t a secret… but,” my mother says before continuing, “there is another aspect to the changes following my daughter’s accident.”

               The headmistress’s eyes flick to my solitary lock of golden hair, as if she already knew.

               “She will require proper instruction to see it cultivated.  Her private tutor, Lord Zellen, has proven inadequate in this regard,” my mother says, continuing.  “I understand that you have an instructor with light affinity who will be starting next year.”

               “Yes,” Headmistress Ardel replies, her eyes again going to the lock of golden hair, understanding crossing her face.  “Consider it done.  Instructor Amos will be discreet.  She was only going to teach Alchemy when she starts due to a lack of students with Light Affinity, but I see that won’t be a problem.”

               She looks back at my mother, her attention finally backing off of me.

               “When did her affinity change?” she asks.

               “It didn’t.  This is a relatively new development,” my mother answers.

               The two of them lock eyes for a moment before the headmistress nods and turns her attention back to me.

               “When you return,” she says, “you will find that very little here has changed.”

               I nod faintly, my breath catching.

               This is happening.

               I close my eyes for a moment before opening them again.  When they open, she continues.

               “We will proceed accordingly,” she continues, as if nothing unusual had just been said. “Your instructors will adjust expectations where necessary, but you will not be treated as incapable.”

               I straighten slightly.

               “I-I wouldn’t expect to be,” I say before I can stop myself.

               The faintest hint of something touches her expression… approval?

               “Good,” she says.

              My mother turns slightly toward me.

               “You will take this seriously,” she states simply, as if reminding me that this decision is nothing to be treated lightly.

               “Y-yes, Mother.”

               “Then we have an understanding,” the headmistress nods once, another brief silence settles over the room before she continues.  “You may return at the start of the next term.”

               She holds out a stack of papers to my mother who accepts them.

               “Get these back to me by the end of the week.  I’ll go ahead and finalize arrangements on my end,” she says.

               “Thank you for your time,” my mother says, inclining her head politely.

               I stand, turn, and follow my mother, who is already heading towards the door.  I can feel the headmistress’s gaze on my back.

               “Lady Beira,” I hear her say as I reach the door.

               I pause and turn around.

               “Yes, Headmistress?” I ask.

               “Welcome back,” she says with a genuine smile before motioning for me to leave.

               The door closes behind us with a soft click.

               The quiet of the office lingers for only a moment before the sounds of the academy return, distant voices, footsteps, the muted rhythm of a place in motion.

               I exhale slowly, not realizing I had been holding my breath.

               “You handled that well,” my mother says, already stepping forward.

               I blink, a little surprised.

               “Th-thank you,” I reply, falling into step beside her.

               We haven’t made it more than a few steps down the corridor when another voice cuts in.

               “Lady Beira.”

               I turn.

               A short distance away stands three girls, the two on either side of the middle one are plain by comparison.  The one in the middle stands, her posture perfect and her uniform possessing a pristine crispness to it that the other two girls' uniforms lack.  Her hair is the same color as my mother’s, not a single hair out of place in her perfect spiral curls.  The way that she is looking at me is almost snooty, as if I am not more than an ant underneath her heel.  Her face is calm, almost icy, similar to my mother’s when she is dealing with trivial matters that must be dealt with.  The two girls with her are much less composed, sneers on their mouths as if the contempt in their eyes had overflown, dribbling down their faces.

               “It’s been some time,” the middle one says, her gaze unwavering.

               I hesitate, as a name pops into my mind, Catalina Breegar.  I know this girl and I know I don’t like her.

               I could have guessed that just because of her attitude. 

               “It has…” I answer slowly and carefully, pausing for a moment before adding, “Lady Catalina.”

               Her mouth curls into a practiced smile.

               “I was beginning to wonder if you ever intended to return at all,” she continues, her smile not able to mask the disappointment in her voice.

               “I am,” I state before quickly adding, “next s-semester.”

               “So I’ve heard,” she says lightly.

               Her eyes drift briefly to my hair, lingering on the golden lock before moving back to my face.

               “Though I must admit,” she continues, “there are questions one has to wonder.”

               Of course there are. I feel my fingers curl slightly at my sides, but I keep my expression neutral.

               “Understandable,” I say, putting on the most pleasant smile I’m capable of.

               One of the girls behind her lets out a soft, poorly concealed laugh, but Catalina doesn’t acknowledge it.  She doesn’t need to, clearly, they are expecting a slip of some kind, something they can use later.

               “You’ve missed quite a bit,” she says, her tone still pleasant. “It will be difficult to catch up.  I’ll send over my childhood tutor; he’s wonderful with those who have a late start.”

               There it is.  

               I meet her gaze directly.

               “There is no need for that.  I’ll manage,” I say.

              For just a moment, something flickers in her eyes.

               “I’m sure you will,” she replies.  "I simply adore how you don't let a lack of refinement dampen your confidence.  It is… admirable.  Should I send you my tutor's card, or would a picture book be more your speed?"

               My mother steps forward then, not enough to interrupt, just enough to exist within the space.

               “Duchess Braemar,” Catalina says, turning smoothly and dipping into a graceful curtsey.

               “Miss Breegar,” my mother replies, her tone measured, unreadable.

               Catalina straightens, her attention returning to me.

               “I look forward to seeing how you… readjust, Lady Breira,” she says, her smile widening like a cat playing with a mouse.  The slight pause before the last word is deliberate.  For a moment, none of us move.  Somewhere in the back of my mind, a ridiculous thought surfaces.

               So, this is what a real-life “mean girl” looks like.

               I almost laugh. Almost.

               “As do I, Lady Catalina,” I reply instead, the smile I have had plastered on my face widening into something more genuine.

               Catalina holds my gaze for a second longer before stepping aside, clearing the path.

               My mother continues forward without hesitation.  I follow.  I don’t look back, but I can feel her watching.

               We walk in silence for several steps before my mother finally speaks.

               “You handled that appropriately,” she says.

               I glance at her, a little surprised.

               “Do not rise to provocation,” she continues. “But do not yield ground, either.”

               I nod slowly.

               “Y-yes, Mother,” I reply.

               Her gaze lingers on me for just a moment longer before she looks ahead again.  On her face is approval.  It is subtle and easy to miss, but unmistakably there.