The water magic class goes by without any other problems, and I leave amongst the crowd, walking back to the dormitory. My friends are in the lounge, so I go join them.

“Ah, Lady Kent,” Violet says, seeing me first.

“Hullo, everyone,” I say.

There’s a chair already here for me, so I sit between Violet and Helena. No books out this time. Well, we normally do homework after supper during the week.

“How was the lesson?” Jemima asks.

I think for a moment. The thing is, I’ve already thought everything I need to think, and now I’ve put Leo not just out of mind, but out of my life. He may have been one of Eleanor’s princes, but he’s not one of mine.

“Good,” I say, a slight smile on my lips.

Jemima nods, and then Helena picks up the conversation. “We were just discussing the, um, fine arts lesson?”

I sort of blanked through it, anxious about water magic class. Ms Berks only had us paint, so I didn’t need to focus too much. I mean, my painting was pretty bad since I haven’t used oil paints before, but I think the colours came out well from our work last week finding the painting spot.

“It was fun trying something new,” I say.

“We thought so too,” Belle says.

That topic continues for a bit, discussing our experiences, and then moving on to talking about the homework. In another Berksian twist, we are to make a still life of any three objects and then sketch a reference to paint in the next lesson. As such, we rate various objects for their ease-of-painting.

Books are highly advocated for by Belle, Jemima confident that a plain stick is the best choice, Helena a stone, and Violet is rather sure that we should be using fruit for this. I just enjoy the discussion, already knowing what I’ll choose.

So the day goes on, following the routine I’ve settled into the last few days.

Then it’s Wednesday. While the lessons are as dry and dull as ever, it’s not horrible. Oh, but it is nice ending on calisthenics, you know? Gentle exercise, but exercise nonetheless.

It takes us a while to change and wipe ourselves down (at least, I presume the others do too given how long they take), so the princes are there by the time we arrive at the classroom for the study group. They’ve rearranged the tables already, such hard work they had to take off their blazers.

Well, it’s certainly a sight, the three of them only wearing their shirts. Three very different sights. On Julian’s small frame, the shirt is like a loose blouse with a neckline that reveals his collar bones, and otherwise shows a lithe figure—maybe not as delicate as he looks. Then there’s Evan, nicely filling out his shirt with what’s clearly not fat. With Cyril, I notice his height, the gap between him and Evan a bit bigger, I think.

I promise, I’m not staring. (As for my friends, I make no such promise—they’ve lived sheltered lives, you know?)

“Have my lords been working up a sweat?” I say with a smile as I lead us ladies over.

Julian takes my words the hardest, turning to the side, while Evan laughs and Cyril just rolls his eyes. Other than that, no one else makes a comment on their state of dress, instead falling into greetings and how-have-you-beens and the other usuals, a few minutes passing before we remember this is supposed be studying.

Not much to actually study yet, we go to homework instead. Julian and Cyril being in different classes to us (and each other) makes things somewhat tricky, but the same teacher teaches the same subject for all classes, the homework also the same.

And it’s nice. Surrounded by friends, talking as we work, plenty of laughter and smiles—it’s nice. Just a bunch of teenagers hanging out.

A lot is said and nothing happens and then we pack up, put the tables back, and go our separate ways. Well, it’s a bit unfair to say nothing happens: my friends and the princes are getting to know each other better. That’s something important. I’d like all of us to have a broader sense of perspective, if that makes sense. Understand how much we have in common and what makes us different.

Thursday is my Julian day. After classes, I head off to the earth magic classroom and wait for him there. Half a minute after me, he arrives, sitting next to me.

“Good day,” I say brightly.

“And to you,” he replies, settling into his seat.

We talk a bit while we wait for Mr Churt to start the lesson, mostly about his sister.

“She has already asked after you,” he says, voice almost a sigh.

I giggle, happy to hear that. “Well, you may tell her I am doing well, busying myself with many things, and I look forward to seeing her at my exhibition.”

This being our first chance to talk semi-privately since last term, we also go over some of what happened in the break. When it comes to my visit, he says, “I do apologise for my mother. Though I do not know the details, my sister was hardly subtle in her sulking.”

I shake my head. “No, your mother treated me rather well. It is only natural for her to question those her children associates with, is it not?” I say.

He chuckles, the light sound almost a giggle. “I suppose so.”

Otherwise, like Evan, he has some little praises for my family and the townhouse, which I return in kind (albeit limited by having spent most of my time there with Florence in her room). The start of the lesson ends our conversation.

While I have mostly given up on water magic classes being interesting or fun, earth magic has promise. Mr Churt lays out the plan for the term, a few flowers we’ll be raising, continuing the pattern of lessons alternating between practical and lectures; next week will be a practical lesson.

On the little walk together after the lesson, Julian’s hay fever acts up. Ah, I don’t envy him, but I take a handkerchief out of my pocket and offer it to him.

“Thank you, but I have my own,” he says, his voice stuffy but light-hearted.

“Is being offered a handkerchief funny?” I ask.

He chuckles. “It just reminds me of how we met,” he says.

Well, yes, I guess that is how; the why is a little more complicated….

Coming up to where the paths split, we each say a goodbye and then head off. On the walk to the dormitory, the rain starts, pitter-patter quickly turning to a noisy barrage. (The path is covered, so it’s not a problem beyond the odd drop blown under.)

The bad weather continues through to suppertime. Although it stops us from going on our after-meal walk, I convince my friends we can still stand outside under the dining hall’s awning, broad enough that we stay near-perfectly dry for the half an hour we watch and listen to the rain. Such a soothing sight and sound, loud yet comforting, and the air feels so fresh to breathe. With friends to huddle beside and a large building behind us, even the wind isn’t a problem. It’s nearly June and so fairly warm anyway.

Friday goes by the same as Monday, lessons ending in meeting Evan and Cyril at the clubroom. I make steady progress on the crab apple blossoms dress. Hm, I guess I could call it Lizzy’s dress? “Crab apple blossoms dress” or even “fourth exhibition dress” is a bit of a mouthful. Anyway, I patiently sew and the embroidery is looking good so far.

In the evening, when my friends and I retire to our rooms, I work on tomorrow’s lesson for Gwen. I’m starting at the start, so it will be addition and subtraction. I want to use money, but there’s a small problem in that I don’t have much; well, no, I have about a pound, but it’s mostly in shillings since that’s what Neville paid me with.

Still, I’m resourceful. Making a rubbing of a penny and a shilling, I mark and cut out twelve of the first and twenty of the second, and then I make just the outline of a penny and slightly trim it for a pound. (I got to see a fair few when waitressing, so I’m familiar with the size of it.) Maybe Lottie will have a pound coin I can borrow for a rubbing. On the reverse sides, I mark them clearly as “1d” on the pennies, “1s” on the shillings, and “£1” on the pound.

Unfortunately, that’s not the end of it. Tuppence, thruppence, sixpence (two, three, six pennies respectively), farthing (a quarter of a penny), halfpence (or ha’pence), guinea (one pound and one shilling, or twenty-one shillings), crown (five shillings), half-crown (two shillings, six pennies) are all current coins in circulation. There’s even talk of bringing back sovereigns and half-sovereigns.

Really, I’m lucky I don’t have to handle money.

For most of those coins, I make approximations (like I did for the pound) using my little experience with them and a bit of guesswork. (Monetary value is loosely tied to the value of the metal used in the coin… I think.) I do have a couple of the smaller coins (tuppence, thruppence, farthing, ha’pence) and make a rubbing for those. Of all these coins, I make four farthings, two ha’pennies, and only one for the rest.

By the end, I wonder if we should just count stones.

This eats up all my evening, so no sewing tonight, but I can make up for it tomorrow. I go to bed early, knowing it will take me a while to fall asleep with my head full of numbers.

The next morning, I wake up and hurry through my routine and then leave for town with Len. Maybe she can sense my excitement because we get there so quickly I’m a bit out of breath. I politely dismiss her and knock on the door, get warmly greeted by Gwen, and pop to the kitchen for a cup of tea with Lottie.

And finally… it’s time for the lesson.

I give Lottie a look, and she slightly nods her head, drawing Gwen’s attention to me with a simply said, “I think Ellie has something to ask you.”

Gwen jerks her head around, making me worry for her neck. “Do you really?” she asks, her eyes wide with curiosity.

I smile, but it’s more polite than natural due to my nerves. “I do. That is, I was wondering if… I could tutor you a bit?”

She looks confused. I understand why when she asks, “Chew-tuh?”

The strange emphasis is easily noticed, and I try not to giggle; it’s my mistake to use a word she wouldn’t know. “Tutor. It means to teach, or a person who teaches, but only one person rather than a whole class.”

She nods along. “Oh, so you want to, um, teach me?”

“Yes. Today, I brought along some pretend money and I thought we could practise counting, adding, and taking away. We can make a game of it: I’ll pretend to run a shop, and you have to pay me the right amount of money for what you want to buy, and then we can swap.”

I pause there, switching my tone from enthusiastic to measured.

“Does that sound like something you would like to do?” I ask, trying to be fair and not push her. I mean, I know that I am influencing her just by asking, but, you know, I can be terribly convincing when I want to be, and right now I don’t want to be. This should be her choice. No, it needs to be her choice.

As such, I’ve been worrying she might say no, all my effort gone to waste—hurting Lottie for nothing gained.

However, my worry proves needless. “We can play shops? Like papa?” she asks.

Ah, right: Gwen Grocer. “Just like papa,” I say.

She claps her hands to let out the joy that spills over, and she excitedly says, “Oh please can we.”

This time, my smile is entirely natural.