Happy for Him

Chapter Twenty-One: Handling It | Part 5

Rhea and Thirtyx made steady progress on their projects until dinnertime. On their way across the courtyard, Rhea stretched up toward the stars. “I’m starving. Do mental breakdowns work up your appetite the way they’ve worked up mine?”

Thirtyx chuckled. “Depends on who’s around when I’m having one. Speaking of which, how are you feeling about this? Do I need to keep you from spiraling when Benn gets that medal instead of you?”

“Excuse me, I am happy for him. He did study harder, after all. Besides, if I was the one stuck in a carriage with Azirenne for three bars, one of us would likely end up dead.”

Thirtyx couldn’t contest her point, so he opened the dining hall door for her instead.

The tables had been scrunched together to accommodate the stage and projection equipment. A single buffet with a limited spread stood between the doors to the kitchen. Rhea scrunched her nose up at it, but she headed over to fix herself a plate.

By the time she returned to their slightly askew table, the hall had mostly filled. Professor Lessel was drawing sigils on the projection orb while Professor C chatted with a few staff members  at the front of the stage. “I’m just glad we don’t have to listen to Bavarren and his absurd ego this time,” Rhea grunted.

“Yeah, I bet that ego’s in top form tonight,” Thirtyx said. “It’s been, what, five years since Wydewood took the top score for the Magic Comp? And he gets to break that drought by showing off the prince.”

“Annoying, considering Bavarren is hardly the reason Benn and I excel at magic. I’ve been bored in his classes since the middle years.” Rhea poked at her food with her fork. “And for the record, you’d think a celebration of this caliber would warrant something better than dry casserole. I know I said I was starving, but I don’t know if I can eat this.” She shoved her plate away. “I bet Benn gets a fancy four-course meal tonight.”

Thirtyx grinned. “For someone who isn’t mad that Benn is there instead of you, your jealousy certainly tastes delicious.”

“Well, I’m glad one of us is enjoying their meal.”

Professor Lessel, finished with the orb, drew a sigil at the front of the stage. When Professor C stepped onto it, the underlying static of magic in the air quieted the attendees. “Good evening,” said Professor C’s amplified voice. “Glory to Grimmary and praise to the Twins.”

As everyone repeated the greeting, Rhea reclaimed her plate and stabbed her casserole with more force than necessary.

“It’s been a few years since a Wydewood student has won a Council of Schools Competency Award, so it is my deepest pleasure to present this live projection, wherein the Council will recognize Mr. Benn Grimmary for achieving the best score on this year’s Magic Comp,” Professor C continued. “When he returns tomorrow, I hope you’ll all extend your congratulations if you spot him in the hall.”

A chorus of disgruntled mumbling. Rhea stiffened. Thirtyx made a show of relaxing into his chair like the energy hadn’t swung markedly more negative. The twins had always been immune to Thirtyx’s social stigma, but that immunity seemed to be wearing thinner each day. Thirtyx glanced across the room at Farish, with his new seal pelt and renewed confidence, who’d had the gall to vote the future queen out of her Service Club presidency. If Rhea Grimmary continues putting herself at risk by staying in Venmy’s presence, is that the sort of clouded judgment we want running this club?

And if they couldn’t trust her with a school club, would they really trust her with the throne? Were some of Rhea’s fears about the future warranted?

Onstage, Professor Lessel’s sigils flared to life across the projection orb. She planted herself firmly behind the stand and placed her hands on the orb’s smooth surface. “Let’s give Professor Lessel a round of applause for being our conduit today,” Professor C said, but Lessel had already gone limp, likely unaware of the clapping surrounding her.

An image of an auditorium came into focus above the orb.

Twelve students sat onstage in a semicircle of chairs. In front of the stage, around 20 adults milled around a massive conference table—the heads of every Council school, not just those winning awards. Azirenne chatted animatedly with a Troll woman, and she gestured at Benn at least three times in the ten fracs Thirtyx watched.

The prince in question sat somewhat stoically at the far right of the stage. His eyes swept the scene like he was more interested in taking in information than networking with his fellow awardees. Perhaps Grimmary didn’t pressure him to be as sociable as he did Rhea. Or perhaps, on this one night, Benn was allowed to soak in his accomplishments as himself instead of a symbol of the palace.