Sustaining The King's Life 22 Are You Ready?

Faustina nodded several times, and then she stared to each one of them. A lovely, tall and a stoic yet charming face with a hair the color of the sky at dawn was the look of the woman named Lovellia Moscow. Her red hair was tied into a strict bun, not a single strand was falling off. She dressed beautifully; there were patterns of flowers in the hem of her purple dress, her collar b.u.t.toned up stubbornly but neatly. She looked like she was older than Eula, but rather well-preserved, as far as Faustina can observe. She had wrinkles, but they peculiarly made her look even prettier.

The man next to her, was rather younger. A bit older than Faustina, yet younger than Sheila. His hair was tousled and curly, like Cupid's locks. Beautiful auburn curls and chestnut-colored freckles underneath his round gla.s.ses protruded, hinting his soft and gentle features. His eyes were emerald-green, and his stature was tall. He smiled kindly, and there was something in his air that made Faustina feel at ease—almost like a magic spell.

**

"Greetings, Mister Orwell." Faustina says as she bowed down; feet at the back with her hands lifting each side of the hem of her dress, with a tentative graceful movement she raised her head to meet her instructor's gaze.

Orwell smiled back, "your etiquette had improved, Lady Faustina."

"Why thank you, Mister Orwell."

He chuckled, and then with a swift flick of his finger books were laid in front of Faustina, drifting all across the room. The door was shut and then with a clap, the windows shut and there was darkness.

And then—light. Light from mystical fireflies, warm and mellow. Then there were little lights of blue, white, silver and gold. Like stars they lit the entirety of the room. Faustina grinned and then she stared at the floating book.

"No cheating!" Orwell says and then with a snap the book was closed. Faustina found herself raising her brow, but she was grinning.

"What is the most common compatibility that the n.o.bles get?"

"Earth."

"Justify."

"As Folkmanor had said, 'we are made through soil and ash and stone, and soil, ash and stone we shall return.'"

"Correct. " Orwell nodded, and then peeked at the floating book in front of him. "What are the three proposals of Gondelf.a.g in the origins of the universe?"

"Element theory, the spontaneous, and the theory of self-combustion."

"Mmhm, correct." Orwell smirked. "Recite the first verse of the poem that Wolfgang had created for the first queen of Feuersturm."

"Tell the fire-lady, of what the Scorch has to say,

He would pour his sword a blistering fire to please the lady of May,

Oh — fire-lady, say you'd listen to thee,

with your flame-laced lips sing with glee."

"That is correct, but you've read it with wrong pauses. Study you literature properly."

"Yes." Faustina says.

This questioning continued for an hour, until Faustina collapsed to the floor panting. Books that were floating were returned into the table, slowly drifting and slowly getting back to their original positions. Orwell stood up, and then offered a hand, which Faustina gladly accepts.

"You answered all the questions correctly." Orwell says in sheer amazement, "And... I can see why." He says as he peered over the dark circles over Faustina's eyes. He sighed and led her to the sofa, and then maids came with a tray of dessert.

"It's been a month that we've been together and I can say you're working pretty hard, m'lady."

"Thank you." Faustina says. "I need to get to the Academy after all. I need to do my best."

Orwell smiled. "You'll get there. You're you, after all. You'll find what you're seeking."
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Faustina chuckled nervously. "Y-yeah..."

Orwell sipped on his tea. "Well, you have to do what you need to do."

"Hey, Mister Orwell,"

"Yes?"

"Do you honestly believe that I am the duke's daughter?

"No...? And yes?" Orwell chuckled. "We are here to teach and not to ask any questions regarding your origin, and I am following His Majesty's strict orders. Is Lovellia bothering you?"

"No... it's not that." Faustina says. "It's been a month and I can't believe how swift it was. The king never visited me, not a single day and..."

"And you're lonely?"

"No!" Faustina says, blushing. "Last night as I was studying, I thought he came to my chambers..."

Orwell spit his tea, and then he looked up to her, blushing, "hey, hey, hey. Careful there. Come again? The king what?"

"I thought he went to my room." Faustina says. "But it was just a pa.s.sing-feeling, because he didn't."

"That's a relief. I thought he was planning to really take you in for a consort. Your talents will come to waste if you marry too early."

Faustina chuckled as Orwell spoke of various things regarding marriage and magic. She stared and thought to herself: it was quick. It was really quick how things became what they are. Her daily life for the course of a month consisted of meeting up with Orwell, with Lovellia, and Sheila. She became close to the two: Orwell and Lovellia. But mostly Orwell.

They both learnt to be casual around each other, while maintaining a proper decorum of how a student and a teacher must react. In a short span of time, they became good friends.

"Your compatibility with all elements is so high, that I can say you're a genius. You have a potential." Orwell continues, "marrying the king is a good thing too, I mean... pardon me, my lady, but being the queen? Goodness... that'll be great. However being a scholar too? Learning? It will be great as well. So I'm telling you too choose wisely."

Faustina covered her lips and chuckled. "You're such a child, Orwell."

"Yes, tell me that. I'm still your teacher, you know."

Faustina grinned.

"That reminds me... the entrance exam for the Academy will be in just a week." Orwell says. "You'll need to depart sooner or later. Will the king come to see you go?"

"I don't know." Faustina says. "I have never seen his shadow for the month."

Orwell stared at Faustina with his observing eyes. "Are you ready?"

"I don't know, the entrance exam seems to be scary. I feel nervous."

"No, I mean..." Orwell tilted his head, "are you ready to even see the king?"

"Of course I am, why wouldn't I be?"

Orwell opened his mouth, as if to say something, but closed it again. The next thing there was silence, and the sound of clinking cups and the sound of sipping.