The Half-Class by Kayvion Lewis
Chapter Forty
Despite having stayed up for hours with Cass, my thoughts woke me the next day before the sun could.
I snuggled into my armchair by the window and watching the colors in the sky outside brighten. A new day, one day closer to the end. One day less for me to figure out how I would save Cass, and the possible solutions were still shooting sporadically around my head.
Cass said he loved me. Does he love me enough to go against his father? If I buckled down and told him everything, from start to finish, perhaps he’d be more understanding. He’d be on my side, surely.
Or if I just found a way to secret him away before the massacre. As much as the thought appalled me last night, that seemed like my most solid plan. He’d realize that I’d known what was going to happen after the fact, but by then, all would be done. The only real sacrifice might be his love for me when he learned I’d let everyone he cared about die.
My heart stuttered. Maybe that was atrade I had to make—Cass might hate me, but he’d be alive.
A small rap sounded on my door.
“Come in,” I called. It was early, even for Bridgette. Yesterday, my first full day back at the castle, she hadn’t come until dawn.
No one answered. Footsteps scurried down the hall.
I got up and strode over to the door, the socks I’d requested keeping my feet perfectly warm over the stone floor.
A thin, folded paper rested over the carpet a few paces from the door. I snatched it from the ground. Hiding the note behind my back, I cracked the door open and peeked outside. The hallway was empty. Nothing but paintings and candles. I pulled my head back in and shut the door. With my back firmly against it, I unfolded the note.
Tomorrow morning, just before dawn. The woods, behind the northwest tower.
Be careful and be unfollowed.
-G
I rushed over to the nearest candle and held the paper in its flame. It caught in an instant, and by the time I tossed it into the unlit fireplace. It crumpled into ash. Pulling one of my tattered boots from the back of my massive wardrobe, I beat the ashes into the old soot of the fireplace.
I figured Gilow would try to summon me, but I didn’t know if he’d be able to succeed. Did Gilow have another supporter in the castle? He had to; how else would I have gotten this letter. But whoever they were, they must have heard me call them in. Why not enter? If we were allies, there was no reason not to meet each other.
Maybe not. If the king discovered one of us, who knew if the other could be trusted not to reveal the other. This other spy clearly knew me if they knew to deliver this to my room. They wanted to protect themselves, and that was fine. At least I knew someone drifting through these walls had my back, even if their face remained a secret to me.
Another knock sounded at my door. I returned the grate to the fireplace and hopped up.
“Come in,” I called again, hurrying back into the chair by the window, through which the beginnings of sunlight had begun to beam through.
The door swung open. “Good morning, Miss.” Bridgette gave me a smile. “Up early, I see.”
“For today,” I said. “But tomorrow, I’ll be sleeping in.”
“Now try this.” Sir West lifted a rose-pink miniature cake up to my mouth. Lady Irene watched me with big eyes, anxiously awaiting my reaction to this new treat. I took a small bite, and Sir West popped the remainder in his mouth.
“Well,” Lady Irene asked, pressing her fingertips together under her chin. “The best so far, is it not?”
Sparkling sweetness engulfed my mouth as I chewed the soft bread. “It’s very sugary.”
“That’s why it’s so wonderful!” Irene popped one of the little cakes into her mouth.
“Lady Irene’s sweet tooth is insatiable,” Sir West said. “It rivals even my own.”
“How have you survived thus far without such treats?” Lady Irene frowned. “What an awful childhood it must have been.”
“Here in Morra, we’re not as addicted to sugar as you Rylanders.”
“We Rylanders,” Sir West corrected. “You are indeed one of us now, and I’m afraid you’re going to have to get used to eating all these delicious, sweet things.”
“A fate worse than death, to be sure,” I said, “but for the sake of blending in, I’ll suffer it.”
Lady Irene laughed and waved over a servant. The maid replaced our now mostly empty tray with a plate of entirely new little pastries and candies I’d never seen before. If I’d known they were planning this, I would have accounted for it during breakfast. But despite my almost too full stomach and lingering thoughts of days to come, I found myself sadly enjoying the little moment with West and Irene. They seemed to have found the brightest corner of the castle—a cute little room lined with tall windows, golden crown molding, and drenched in sunlight. The furniture here was minimal, looking much more like Morra than Ryland.
“Are these macaroons?” Cass, appearing from nowhere, leaned over my chair. He picked up around cookie.
A servant, one of two waiting diligently in the corner of the room, carried a chair from the wall up to our table. Cass sat and crossed his leg over his knee.
“We were just introducing Miss Evelyn to all the wonderful Ryland treats she’s been missing out on for the past seventeen years,” Sir West informed him.
“Oh, that’s right.” Cass leaned nearer to me. “Evie, you should know that luxuries of the edible variety take precedent above all else in Ryland, especially in Aurell.”
“So I should expect to double my size after two seasons then?”
“Keep spending your days with him, and you’ll accomplish the feat in only one,” he said, gesturing to Sir West.
“I’m appalled.” Sir West scoffed. “I’ll have you both know that my current physique is due only to my age and not my choice of delicacies. When I was a young man, I was slender enough to hide under a rug and go completely unnoticed.”
“Perhaps you can maintain your lovely figure by skipping meals as our prince does,” Lady Irene raised her eyebrows to Cass, and I found myself doing the same. Fate had been merciful to me this morning by keeping the king away, but I hadn’t seen Cass either. I hadn’t seen him since fairly early last night. If not for Donnie, I would have been left alone to endure breakfast with the court all by myself.
“That was by accident.” Cass placed his hand over mine and curled his fingers under it. His silent apology to me. “I stayed up later than I intended and overslept.”
The skin under Cass’s eyes sagged. Honestly, he looked like he hadn’t slept at all. Was he worried about something? I hoped he hadn’t had an encounter with his father.
I brought my eyes back ahead before they could linger noticeably long. I wouldn’t ask here, not with West and Irene around.
“Who needs breakfast when you have macaroons?” Cass picked one from the tray, a strawberry one.
My smile faltered. Suddenly, my heart began pounding.
I’d only been thinking about Cass. What about Lady Irene and Sir West? They were people too.
They may not have been innocent, but they didn’t deserve death. Gilow would understand that if I told him what I knew about them. Perhaps it wasn’t too late to ask him to re-adjust his plans.
“Miss Evelyn,” Irene’s voice pulled me from my trace. “This one,” she said, offering me a little white macaroon.
I took it, feeling a genuine bead of anxious hope brush from my fingers to hers. “Thank you.”