“Ji Lan? Is Ji Lan here?”

A sharp laugh sounded from the corner of the room, followed by the bitter remark, “He overslept.”

“Hei-Long! You didn’t wake him up?!” Sui-Yu leaned forward and grabbed her friend’s ponytail, giving a forceful tug.

“Ow! …What am I? His caretaker?” Hei-Long demanded, freeing his hair from Sui-Yu’s grasp.

Sui-Yu gave the other a flat look. “No,” she said, “but you are his friend.”

Hei-Long looked away, his eyes darkening. “Hardly,” he muttered, only loud enough for Sui-Yu to hear.

The teacher, meanwhile, was busy trying to finish taking attendance. “So, Lan is coming?”

“So long as His Royal Pain-In-The-Ass actually bothers to get out of bed—”

“Yes,” Sui-Yu interrupted Hei-Long’s vindictive mumbling.

As if on cue, the classroom door opened and a disheveled blonde stumbled inside. His eyes immediately fixed an icy glare on the auburn-haired boy sitting at the top-right corner desk, who was pointedly staring at the wall. The blonde then turned an apologetic smile to the teacher. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

The teacher blinked. “You’re…Ji Lan?”

The blonde nodded, smiling politely. Everything abou Lan’s demeanor, in fact, seemed polite and proper. And aside from that, he was (simply put) gorgeous. There was a collective sigh from the female population of the class as Lan moved to sit across from Hei-Long.

Hei-Long rolled his eyes.

Then the teacher called his name. “Qing Hei-Long? And…Min Sui-Yu? You three are the new transfer students, yes?” he asked.

The three said teens nodded.

The teacher smiled brightly in greeting. “Welcome, then!”

Whispers and murmurs erupted around the room at this new information about the peculiar transfer students. It wasn’t really that the three were new so much as it was their odd appearances that spurred their classmates’ reactions. The air of mystery that surrounded Lan, Hei-Long, and Sui-Yu was the fuel that would feed the fire of gossip until every nuance of their characters were disclosed.

But that would always be the very least of the trio’s worries.

At that moment, however, Hei-Long was irritable and very prone to letting things get to him. Things like the girl behind Lan whispering to her giggling friend and gesturing towards the blonde. Yes, he found it very annoying. And being one with a characteristically short fuse, he had to bite his tongue to keep from snapping at the girls as their whispers rose to murmurs.

Sui-Yu seemed to sense this from the telltale rigidity of Hei-Longs usually lax frame and grabbed his ponytail again, this time to get his attention rather than reprimand him. “Calm down,” she whispered. “It’s going to take some time getting used to.”

Hei-Long scowled. “Hn.” Nevertheless, he heeded her advice and ignored the giddy, giggling girls. Well, as best he could, anyway.

Luckily, he was saved from having to bottle his aggravation for much longer as the teacher called the class to attention.

“Everyone, take out your books and open up to where we left off.”

The instructions left the newcomers utterly lost and even more so when a novel landed on each other their desks.

“I expect you all recognize the playwright,” the teacher said.

The three read over the name printed beneath the title Julius Caesar and shook their heads. A few of their classmates laughed, earning a sharp glance from Hei-Long. He didn’t get the joke that the rest of the class seemingly shared. Neither did the other two.

The teacher was trying to keep his expression pleasant, hiding his shock. “You’ve never heard of William Shakespeare?”

Hei-Long swore under his breath, and Sui-Yu blushed abashedly.

“No,” Lan replied, composed as ever, “we haven’t.”

This time nearly everyone laughed, save for the teacher. Sui-Yu was trying to disappear into her seat, sliding down. Hei-Long was irritably drumming his fingers on his desktop, waiting for the hysterics to subside. They had hoped that something like this wouldn’t happen, but thinking back on that, it was a rather foolish expectation. How could something like this not happen?

“Well, Shakespeare was a very famous Elizabethan playwright, born in 1564,” the teacher explained. His face brightened, then, and he turned to the class, catching another opportunity to test his students. “Does anyone remember why he’s so significant to the world of literature?”

“…”

“Yes, Ye-Ling?”

“He…really understood human psychology, and could therefore create characters that were realistic and unforgettable. He was also known for his…beautiful dialogue…”

“Very good.”

Hei-Long glanced over his shoulder to see the student who had spoken, and caught Ye-Ling’s eyes for a moment before the boy looked away, blushing. Strange, Hei-Long thought. He shook his head, as if to shake away the confusion at Ye-Ling’s reaction and turned back to his book, opening up to Act One, Scene Three, and skimmed over the text. He skimmed over it once, twice, thrice, growing more and more perplexed each time. What the hell? “Besides (I ha’ not since put up my sword),/ Against the Capitol I met a lion,/ Who glazed upon me and went—” What is this?!

“Okay, we need readers for Cicero, Casca, Cassius, Cinna, and stage direction. Anyone?”

Hei-Long looked up as students began tentatively volunteering, still utterly lost. It irked him to glance over at Lan and find the blonde looking calm as ever and… Was he raising his hand?!

“Ye-Ling, you can be Cicero, and…oh, Lan? You can be Casca, then.” The teacher seemed pleased to find Lan participating. He handed out the rest of the parts, and the reading commenced. Hei-Long continued to fume for a few moments longer. What is he up to? he wondered. Surely he’ll make a fool of himself trying to read this gibberish.

The student assigned as stage director read the introduction to the scene, followed by “Thunder and lightening. Enter Casca and Cicero.”

Ye-Ling read, “Good even, Casca. Brought you Caesar home?/ Why are you breathless? And why stare you so?”

Hei-Long noted how the boy’s voice was, for the most part, smooth and well-intonated, however punctuated by the occasional uncertain stutter. If these students had even the slightest bit of difficulty reading the text, there was no way that Lan—

“Are not you moved, when all the sway of earth/ Shakes like a thing unfirm? O Cicero,/ I have seen the tempests when the scolding winds/ Have rived the knotty oaks, and I have seen/ Th’ ambitious ocean swell and rage and foam/ To be exalted with the threat’ning clouds; …”

Hei-Long blinked. What. The. Hell. How did he…? Why…? When…? To say that Hei-Long was surprised would be an understatement; he was speechless. He glanced over his shoulder at Sui-Yu, and she turned her green eyes up to meet his awed expression with her own well-what-did-you-expect? look. He blinked again. What had he expected? How could he have put the ability to fluently and flawlessly recite alien literature above Lan?

Apparently the other students—and the teacher—were also amazed at Lan’s reading. The teacher was watching him warily, vague surprise flickering through his countenance. Hei-Long turned back to his book and followed along, not really understanding a word of what was going on, but finding himself bewitched by the nobility, the regality, of Lan’s air as he spoke, the Elizabethan tone and style seeming to come so naturally to him that it was almost endearing, listening to him read.

Yes, Hei-Long decided as something twitched in his chest, endearing is a good word. Against his will, his eyes seemed to trail from the words on the page to his desktop to the floor to Lan’s desk to Lan himself. His stable tone and Ye-Ling’s unsteady stutters alternated as they recited the scene from their seats.

Then, a soft giggle from behind him brought Hei-Long out of his trance. He cut a sharp glance over his shoulder to find Sui-Yu ducking behind her book to hide her smile.

“What?” Hei-Long hissed.

“Nothing,” she whispered back, though without acrimony.

The other narrowed his eyes to brown slits, suspicion flaring in his gut.

“Hei-Long.” The teacher’s soft call brought the auburn-haired boy our of his exchange with Sui-Yu. “Please turn around.”

He nodded, muttering an apology, and turned the page. They had to have at least gotten through the first one by now. Not that he really cared; he hadn’t a clue as to what was going on, anyway. There was a snicker off to his left. He cast a sidelong glare at Lan.

“Getting in trouble already, are we?” the blonde muttered, not taking his eyes off his book as Ye-Ling’s recitation sounded in the background. The image of Hei-Long scowling at him found its way into his mind, making him laugh again.

“Why you …”

“Hei-Long,” the teacher warned.

“Sorry.” Hei-Long grit his teeth. Oh, I’m going to kill that brat one day, he silently promised.

But at the same time, the thought made him feel as though he’d swallowed something foul, a certain uneasiness settling itself in his stomach. He glanced one last time at Lan, a sort of sadness in his eyes, before devoting his attention to trying to understanding the play. Though, it would’ve helped if he’d been on the right page.

He wasn’t the only one having trouble following along. Of course, this other person’s reasons were somewhat different. Normally, Ye-Ling had no problem understanding Shakespearean literature when he really paid attention to what he was reading. However, at the moment, his focus was on something entirely different. Or rather, someone. Perhaps he just had some odd infatuation for the foreign color of Hei-Long’s hair, but whatever the reason, he just couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from the back of the boy’s head.

The teacher caught Ye-Ling staring at the new student and heaved an internal sigh. This was going to be an…interesting semester.

---xXx---

Days passed, and still the dark air of mystery did not fade from the transfer students. Their peers—particularly their female peers—were always trying to pry through the vice on the newcomer’s secrets.

“Are you Lan’s girlfriend?”

“…” Sui-Yu stared at the inquirer—a petite girl with a heart-shaped face—and her two friends, who were standing determinedly behind her. And then, Sui-Yu began to laugh. And laugh. And laugh. And by the time her fit had quelled into giggles, the petite girl’s face was an abashed pink.

“Wh-What’s so funny?” she stammered. “Are you, or aren’t you?”

Sui-Yu caught her breath, grinning amusedly. “No,” she said, “I am definitely not Lan’s girlfriend.”

“Oh. Well, does he have a girlfriend?”

The amusement fled from Sui-Yu’s countenance, chased away by a bitter enmity. She seemed to think something over before answering, “Yes.”

“Who?!”

“She doesn’t live around here,” Sui-Yu said, her gaze idly drifting around the classroom.

Then the teacher walked in, and talking ceased.

Lan stared down at his hands folded on his desktop. A shiver crept up his spine before the teacher’s voice brought him out of his treacherous reverie.

oo0oo

“Damn him!”

“Lady Athaliah, please—”

“Hold you tongue. Did I give you permission to speak?”

“No, m’lady.”

The servant was pierced with a fierce glare. “Just because the King is dead doesn’t mean that the nobility has crumbled. I am still your superior.”

“Yes, m’lady.”

“…Good.” Her blue robe swept around her ankles as Athaliah pivoted on her heel, pacing about the throne room nervously. The throne room was a forgotten chamber, its existence only ever barely acknowledged in the back of the mind of the common person. It was supposed to be closed until the victor of The Game came to use it, but the privacy was a treasure not to be ignored by those who could access it.

Aaron stood to the side obediently, although he was very tempted to pull off his shoe and throw it at the pacing girl’s head. But he knew his place, and had enough sense about him to know better than to step out of line around the vindictive Lady Athaliah.

“He had better win this,” Athaliah growled. “He’s always out all day, coming home late at night, if at all. He must’ve rid himself of half the competition by now!” She continued her tirade, sounding ever-dubious of the claims she was trying to convince herself were truth.

“I’m sure he is working hard, m’lady.”

“Your tongue! Hold your tongue!” she screeched.

“Lady Athaliah, you should not be so hard on the boy.”

Athaliah spun on her heel as the honeyed voice drifted idly to her ears. The fire in her menacing gaze was doused with a ripple of calm, her temper appeased by the third presence in the throne room. “Malachi.”

Aaron visibly bristled, his heart picking up a nervous pace. A figure stepped from the shadows, striking aqua eyes catching the servant’s. A predatory grin made its way across his face as Malachi strode easily up to the two, skirting Athaliah and moving to Aaron. He gripped the boy’s chin. Aaron was practically rigid with fear, but knowing better than to shy away from the former captain of the guard and risk being chastised.

“Such a pretty boy,” Malachi crooned, his voice dripping with a venomous sweetness.

“Control yourself, Malachi,” Athaliah drawled, far too used to the young soldier’s promiscuousness to care much about it.

“Hn.” Malachi stepped away from Aaron and faced Athaliah. “M’lady, I know you’re worried about Prince Ezra’s long and frequent absences. It’s only assumable that he’s out killing off the many rivals we’ve all been pitted against. However, the Prince has, thus far, eluded me, and I find it tiring to have to search for him.”

Athaliah tilted her head curiously at this. “Is that so.”

“Yes, it is so, I’m afraid. I mean, I know the kingdom isn’t exactly tiny, and it’s quite possible that one may go for many days without running into a particular person, as that person may very well be miles and miles from where one is. But even so, I find it odd that I haven’t faced him recently. You know he poses the greatest threat to us all.”

“Yes, I know. He is among the greatest fighters in the kingdom,” Athaliah consented. “He hasn’t returned to the castle in the past two days. Where, I wonder, is he staying at night? Surely he doesn’t just rent a room in a common inn. It’s too risky. The castle is the safest place for a player in The Game to stay at night, as one has the least likely chance of being attacked in one’s sleep; the castle is nearly impenetrable. And yet, he doesn’t return as the sun begins to set; he’s still out, fighting.”

“Or perhaps,” Malachi said, “he has found a safer place than the castle.”

“There is no place in Eden that is safer than the castle!” Athaliah argued. Malachi nodded his agreement, and a wordless exchange was made between the two. Athaliah then spun on Aaron, pointing a finger at him. “You! You’ve served under this family for over a decade. Surely you know something that we don’t. What secret is Ezra keeping from me?”

Aaron inclined his head sincerely. “There are no secrets that His Highness would keep from his fiancé.”

Athaliah glared at the servant and slapped him forcefully across the cheek. Aaron wisely bit his tongue to keep from crying out. “You’re lying,” Athaliah accused.

Aaron said nothing, partly because he knew better than to speak out of turn and partly because he found no reason to deny the truth.

Comprehension dawned on Malachi’s delicate features as he watched Aaron’s reaction. He nodded to himself, before calling, “Mao!”

In response to the summons, a lithe figure bounded from the shadows and was at Malachi’s side in a heartbeat, a round, winged creature bobbing in the air behind the newcomer. He latched onto Malachi’s sleeve and nuzzled his nose in the soft fabric. “You called?”

Malachi smiled gently, though the youth didn’t see it, what with his face buried in Malachi’s arm and all. “Let’s go.” He twined the end of the ribbon on Mao’s neck around his finger and gave it a tug, pulling Mao along with him as the two departed. “We shall talk some more later, Lady Athaliah.”

Athaliah nodded. “Be sure to alert me, should you run into Ezra.”

“Will do.” And with that, he left, Mao and the strange balloon-like animal in tow.

Athaliah turned to Aaron with another disdainful scowl. “You had best not be keeping anything from me,” she warned.

“Of course not, m’lady.”

Athaliah pursed her lips and stomped out of the throne room, thoroughly unconvinced.