I spent Thursday evening out by the bonfire with Evan again. After what happened with Julian, I think it best to tell Evan that I’ve sent a letter to his sister as well. He, well, he takes the news better than Julian did, but I guess it’s also obvious to him that such news will get to his parents.

In my defence, I didn’t send those letters to cause trouble, and took care with what I wrote to make clear the situation. Unlike a certain not-so-clever prince, I understand the importance of watching my tongue (or pen, in this case). The boys are my acquaintances, not friends. They’ve been courteous to me, not kind. I’m inviting the sisters, no mention of the brothers.

I mean, it still paints the picture that I’m interested in them and by extension their family, but there’s not exactly a way to get around that.

Anyway, I’ve yet to hear back from them. There’s usually some busyness around this time of year that delays letters (unless sent by courier) or delays the writing (an easy thing to slip the mind), or they might be waiting to hear from their brothers before doing anything.

Even if they choose not to send a reply at all, I’ll understand. Julian’s little sister, she probably knows I’m “someone to be avoided”, and Evan’s sister might well know too. So I won’t hold it against them if they ignore me.

Friday morning passes quicker than ever. The afternoon usually drags with PE and Accounting, such a relief they’re cancelled. It doesn’t quite make up for all the other weeks where we do end the week that way, but it’s a nice consolation. So we have lunch and then some time off.

Even though embroidery club is also cancelled, Evan and I sit in the classroom and do some anyway. Having been busy with my other projects recently, I take the chance to work on designs for my improved Friendship piece, as well as sketch up some ideas to go on dresses for the exhibit. I didn’t commit to it, but I do think Ms Berks’ misunderstanding is fitting. It really would be a good opportunity to show her my appreciation for everything she’s done for me. Who knows, maybe Evan will help. He’s not entirely clumsy.

After a couple hours of that, the light outside starts to wane, yet still far from dark. They aren’t ringing the school bell, so I don’t know the exact time, but my feeling is it’s nearing four o’clock, probably half three.

I end my sewing in a good place and wait for Evan to pause, and ask him then, “Shall we go?”

He frowns at the handkerchief in his hands. From what I can see, it looks good. Is this his second or third attempt? I don’t think he does any outside of club, so, really, his improvement is impressive—whoever his teacher is should be proud.

“Let’s,” he softly says, packing away the handkerchief and returning to me the needle and thread he borrowed.

The walk outside necessarily includes a trip back to our own dormitories to dress better for the cold. Without thinking too much of it, I bring the “shawl” Lottie gave me. It can’t be helped if I get a bit lonely this time of year, my birthday overlapping with such a festive holiday and separated from my family.

Evan’s waiting for me when I leave—down where the path splits for the girls and boys dormitories. He’s not waiting outside my room.

While I wouldn’t call his look dashing, that’s only because he’s clearly uncomfortable all dressed up (even if the only difference I notice is a formal jacket rather than the usual blazer). At least it’s an outdoor celebration, otherwise he would have to wear a top hat. Still, not saying this about him in particular, but it’s funny how money can make someone look good. I just think that because of how well-fitted his clothes are and how the fabric looks. Add in properly washed and combed hair, a clean face, and it’s hard to look bad.

About half the students are already there when we arrive. Nothing to do, so I guess they came out early. From my time at Queen Anne’s, everyone comes to these things—unless sick.

The bonfire itself is in the middle of the sports field. With the cold, short days, grass won’t grow much until spring, no problem now if the ground’s scorched (and the ash left behind is probably a decent fertiliser).

Some time before the “event” starts, we’re all in a very loose circle around the bonfire, with a path cleared (teachers around to keep it clear) for manservants to carry things to the middle. It’s easy for me and Evan to get to the front, close enough that some of the warmth of the fire wafts over when the wind gently blows. All things considered, the weather’s been perfect for the occasion, cold and dry. The same was true when I was at Queen Anne’s, so I don’t know how things go when it rains. Back at the manor, I think they used a gazebo to get it started, moving that away once the flames were big enough. I don’t know about fires, but they probably built it a certain way or something as well.

As expected, we don’t talk much. Really, being with him isn’t all that different from coming here alone, but it’s different enough. I say that, it’s not like I’m all that chatty either. I am chattier, though, in the same way two is twice as much as one.

Low benches are carried out at some point, the crowd pushed back and first ring of seats put out. It’s near enough sitting on the floor, a bit uncomfortable for me to sit on (Evan can just stretch his legs out most the time, while I have to keep my knees together, legs bent awkwardly to the side). It’s tempting to move to the normal-sized benches that are put a step behind us, but I like having a completely clear sight of the bonfire.

With the sunset, we all head off to supper. Me and Evan don’t eat together, some social norms more easily ignored than others, but we can see each other from our seats, leaving at the same time.

Back at the bonfire, the others return in a trickle, everyone settling in, soon far noisier than before. I guess near enough every student is here now. It’s still a little light, but the lack of sunshine would be quickly felt if not for the crowd of people blocking the wind. I’m still a touch cold, though, arms crossed and rubbing a little warmth into my cheeks from time to time.

The school bell rings out.

Silence starts to settle, and I feel somewhat cramped as I’m squashed closer to Evan. I guess it’s a good thing he’s sturdy, resisting the pushing coming from the other side.

While I grumble in my head about that, a sort of rising shout starts—a drawn-out, “Oh,” that gets louder with every second. It’s near deafening at its crescendo, and I only realise why when I see the headmaster walk into the wide clearing around the bonfire, carrying an effigy of a faerie (a creature with the head of a horse’s skull and a white sheet for the body—Láir Bhán). He tosses it into the bonfire, and cheering erupts, just as loud as before.

The headmaster doesn’t give a speech (not that anyone would hear), just gestures to the manservants. Piece by piece, they build the bonfire from something the size of a shrub to a broad fir tree. It’s fiercely hot. Well, it would be if we were closer, but it’s still warm at such a distance away. Even if I took off my coat, I’m sure the cold wouldn’t get to me.

But that’s not the climax of the celebration. Soon enough, distant bangs sound out, and I look to the sky.

Fireworks.

Chinese fireworks, I should say, but that’s in the sense that they’re colourful and all that, not that they’d made in China. I don’t know the details, just that fireworks like Ellie knew them are a recent thing in Europe, and a recent addition to Samhain.

Ah, they’re beautiful.

It really is amazing. So cold yet warm, dark yet light, quiet with anticipation and then cheering with the resounding bangs.

Entranced, it ends all too soon.

A silence that drags on only to be filled by idle chatter. The teachers clap their hands once for attention, a few shouting that the event is over, that we can stay out here until midnight at latest. I’m not going anywhere. It’s like my body’s tingling, joy overflowing. My cheeks hurt from smiling and I’m a touch lightheaded (enough that, if I stood up, I’d quickly become dizzy).

Samhain wasn’t such a big deal at my last school. I guess it’s not a “girly” holiday. But, well, I doubt I will ever forget tonight.

Lost in the moment. Was I shouting along with everyone? Cheering? I don’t know. Wait, my throat is a bit sore. Didn’t notice I was smiling. This sense of being lost in a crowd, it’s… magical. I wasn’t ignored. I was here with everyone else, going through the same experience. We saw the same sights, heard the same sounds, the tremble of the earth as we stamped our feet, the rumble in our chests from our roaring voices.

It was so much fun, I’m afraid I just sort of drifted through it unthinking, now desperate to burn every detail into my head.

“Lady Kent?” Evan asks.

I catch myself. There’s a lot of commotion as most people leave, people walking in front of us, behind us, talking in awed tones and laughing. And my face is cold—my cheeks. Wet?

Oh.

Wiping my cheeks on my sleeves, I let out a note of laughter. “Sorry, they’re happy tears,” I say, hoping my words carry through the din as clearly as his did.

A little hard to turn my body to face him, I make do with turning my shoulders until I can get a decent look at him. Shadows dance as people move, the fire at times catching in his eyes. We’re still rather close from being squashed together earlier.

You know, this would be a great scene for a romantic story. Alas, my life is more of a tragic comedy, so I try to come up with a joke to set the mood. Unfortunately I’m only really good at teasing.

I shuffle over to give us room. “I hope you found my shoulder not too bony,” I say, looking down as I rub some of the stiffness out of my legs.

“I can’t say I noticed,” he replies.

Smiling, I say, “You’re too sweet.”

With most of the crowd gone, it quiets down. I take a deep breath now I’ve the space to, slowly blowing it all out, resetting my thoughts. The waning euphoria is leaving me giddy and it’s all I can do to keep from saying something I would come to regret. Careless words, thoughtless words, I don’t want to mislead him.

As if answering my wishes, I’m called out to again.

“Lady Kent?”

It’s hard to tell who it is at first, the light poor when he stands in front of me with his back to the fire. However, the familiar eyes give away what the shadows on his face hide, a shade of blue not dissimilar to grey that matches my own.

“Lord Canterbury,” I say warmly. “What brings my cousin here?”

Even in the poor light, I notice his gaze glance over at Evan before returning to me. “Well, I would always say a hullo if I saw you, yet seeing you seems a rather difficult thing.”

“Glasses may help.”

He breaks into a wry grin, a certain pinch to his eyes. “However, I came looking tonight in particular to wish you a happy birthday.”

“You couldn’t be bothered to check for me in the classrooms?”

There’s a snort at my side, and that makes it all the harder to keep a straight face.

Cyril clears his throat, pointedly not looking at Evan, and then reaches a hand into his jacket’s large pocket. He takes out a gift, wrapped neatly. “That is, I thought you would rather this not done in front of everyone,” he says.

I’m surprised, and I say as much, accepting the present with a, “Thank you.” Quickly undoing the ribbon, I open it up to find, well, something? Wait, a hot-water bottle? A metal bottle along with a decently thick cloth pouch. Rubber’s not big yet, after all.

“Truth be told, your mother sent me a letter asking me to buy this for you,” he says.

Clutching it tight, I smile brightly. “Thank you, really,” I say.

He awkwardly rubs the back of his head, looking away. “Well, as long as you like it,” he mumbles.

“It’s just what I wanted.”

A sigh escapes him, and it’s like a weight is off his shoulders. I guess it’s not easy to give someone such a random gift unasked.

We say a few more pleasantries, a little catch-up on how everyone is, I introduce him to Evan, and then he takes his leave. The silence he leaves behind doesn’t last, though.

“It’s your birthday?” Evan asks.

“It was on Wednesday,” I say, fiddling with the cap of the bottle.

A few seconds, and then he says, “Happy birthday.”

I smile to myself. That’s two more people than the last three years combined (I’m still counting them even though they’re two days late).

“Thank you.”