Homesick

Chapter Eighteen: Solstice | Part 4

While they embraced the spirit of wallowing and brain rot for the first few days—Thirtyx and Benn with trashy novels and Rhea with doodles—reality crept back in around mid-week. Grimmary wanted Rhea and Benn’s apprenticeship applications before the end of break, and Thirtyx had better get started on his own. He’d need to send out more than his classmates.

While the twins settled at their usual table in the blissfully quiet library, Thirtyx approached Mrs. Wiggins, whose reptilian eyes stared with suspicion over the rims of her glasses. “Venmagalion, if I let you check out any more intellectual garbage, you won’t have a brain left to finish the term.”

Thirtyx chuckled. “Are any copies of this year’s law apprenticeship catalog available? I thought I’d get a head start before they’re in high demand.”

“Well, on that front, you’re in luck. I’ve got a particular copy you might like. You can keep it, even.” She slapped the catalog onto her desk and tapped it with a claw. “I wrote it off as lost a few days ago, so I’ve already ordered a replacement. Good thing, too, because when it turned up, someone had scribbled all over it.”

Thirtyx recognized that gleam in her eye suggesting there was more to the story. Curious, he flipped through the pamphlet. The same tidy handwriting nearly filled the margins with notes— messages like ‘apprenticed under a Verith before the exile’ and ‘has a track record of wrongfully convicting Veriths.’ One lawyer’s information was scratched out with heavy-handed strokes. Beside it: ‘terrible person in general. No way in the twin hells.’

Thirtyx fought to swallow the lump forming in his throat. “Mrs. Wiggins, I— I really don’t think I can thank you enough.”

“For giving you a graffitied catalog?” she scoffed. “It would go in the trash otherwise.”

They shared a long, knowing look. “Still,” Thirtyx continued, and he wasn’t ashamed that his voice cracked a little. “I really appreciate it.”

Thirtyx spent the next two days reviewing Mrs. Wiggins’ notes, adding circles and cross-outs based on her insights. While he’d given the librarian plenty of credit for keeping him safe all these years, he’d clearly underestimated her vast knowledge base, curated from ancient texts and conversations with her patrons.

He was thumbing through a book about the most impactful lawyers of the last decade, cross-referencing Mrs. Wiggins’ notes, when Rhea let out a groan and dropped her pen so hard it bounced to the floor. “My birthday is tomorrow! I just want to relax.”

“I know.” Benn lay his pen down as well. “Me too.”

Rhea looked taken aback. “Really?”

“I’m writing down a list of all the history and diplomacy classes I’ve taken, just to give it to the man who made me take those classes in the first place—a man who also requested copies of my transcript despite having every term report I’ve gotten since first year. What did you expect me to say?”

Rhea tapped her chin. “I don’t know. Something like, ‘tomorrow’s not today, so get to work’ or ‘celebrating tomorrow will put us behind, so we’d better do it now.’ You know, that responsible crap you always give me.”

Benn rested his chin in his hands. “I’m happy to be responsible when there’s a point, but this is one of the most pointless things Grimm’s ever had us do—second only to leaving us here for Solstice, when we could be helping with the investigation and shoring up the palace’s defenses.”

“I know,” Rhea said quietly. “I argued with him just as hard as you did. You know, it seems silly to be this homesick when we’ve been home twice this term already, but something about breaking tradition for the holidays—”

Her eyes fell on Thirtyx, and she startled, placing her hand over her mouth. “What am I saying? I’m so sorry, Thirtyx. I must sound like the most entitled person on the planet—I mean, as the crown princess, I probably am—but you don’t even have a home to go to. Here I am, blathering on—”

Thirtyx held up a hand to stop her. “Someone’s been trying to assassinate your father, and you’re stuck here. It would make anyone a little homesick.” He set down his own pen. “Look, you still have two days after Solstice to finish your applications, and mine aren’t due for weeks. Let’s take a walk, maybe hang out by the lake while it’s not swarming with Selkies.”