Seven Crowns (Bellaton Book 1)

by E. V. Everest

The sword wouldn’t budge from the wall. She pulled harder. Finally, she put one foot against the wall and leveraged her body weight. The sword groaned and disconnected from the wall. The weight of it sent Ana toppling backward.

  Good, she thought. Now for those vines…

  A red light blinked on the wall where the sword had been.

  Down the corridor, Ana set to work slicing the vines at door height. A little flick of the sword, a small opening to look. The openings quickly resealed themselves. Every few feet, she stopped and did the same thing.

  Finally, after twenty minutes of hard work, she saw not sandstone but dark wood. She sliced through the vines with a vengeance until she found an ancient bronze door pull. This was it. The door.

  She hesitated for a moment, and the vines began to creep back over the handle. She hacked with abandon until the majority of a large arched door was visible. She pulled on the bronze handle, and with some effort, the old door creaked open.

  If Ana had to describe her dormitory, she would have used the word grand, immediately followed by haunted. The place was otherworldly; it reminded her of a haunted Turkish palace—vaulted ceilings, exposed dark wood, and intricate brass lanterns that filtered dim light on the sandstone walls. Cobwebs filled the corners, and dust stood thick on the furniture in the center of the room. The air was musty as though the air here hadn’t been circulated in a long time.

  As Ana stood aghast in the doorway, vines began to creep over her shoe and into the forgotten room. She stepped through and slammed the door shut. For good measure, she severed the remaining tendrils with the sword. She carried it with her in case there were more than spiders living here.

  The room was surrounded by rounded openings and branching corridors. Ana followed one and found several windows to the outside. With effort, she managed to open one. A cloud of dust rose in the air, and Ana sneezed. She hoped that it would help circulate the air.

  Soon she came to a set of rooms. Ana had to assume that most of them had once been bedrooms, due to their size, though few of them contained beds anymore. Ana supposed if your family was being picked off, you probably didn’t need a lot of bedrooms to remind you that you were alone.

  Eclectic barely began to describe the place. Each room was filled to the brim with treasures and wonders. Each door had a different knob. Some small. Some large. One shaped like a hand. One room was filled with books from floor to ceiling. Their bindings were obscured by cobwebs and dust. Another room required you to step down a few feet into a room filled with colorful pillows.

  Finally, she came across a bedroom. It was neat and tidy, aside from the dust, with a hand-carved bed made of dark wood that matched the ceiling beams. Fabric draped across the four posts. Had this room once been her mother’s? Had she been the last person to sleep here? The dark red walls and hand-carved wooden furniture felt like old friends.

  A few dresses and skirts remained in the closet. Ones likes hers from the welcome parade. A small cross stitch piece depicting a graybeast rested on the bedside table. Sewn into the bottom were her mother’s initials, J.H. Ana held it in her hands and ran her finger over the tidy stitches.

  Ana curled up on the dusty bed and cried herself to sleep. The cross stitch held close to her chest.

  11

  The Academy

  When Ana woke, the unforgiving applique top had left a pattern on her skin. When she wriggled out of it, she looked like she had scales. This morning, she felt like she had scales. Her grief and loneliness from the night before had been washed away by tears and replaced with resolve.

  The first thing she did was move around the entire dorm, opening every window in sight. The lighting was immediately improved, and with any luck, the musty smell would be too. Ana loathed cleaning. At home, she preferred to let things reach critical mass before bothering with them.

  However, this dorm had long since reached critical mass. It was gloomy and dusty with cobwebs and spiders in every corner. She had no cleaning materials, but she did have towels and water. She ran them along the top of her bed, the window sills, and finally the floor. She shook her gold woven bedspread out the window, watching the dust fly into the air.

  Below, a few students looked up to see what all the commotion was about. She waved down. They didn’t return the gesture.

  After a couple of hours, her room was clean. That would have to do for today. Who knew how many other rooms were back here? She had fallen asleep before exploring them all last night.

  She showered and looked through the clothes that had been abandoned in the closet. They were all so formal. She flipped through the coat hangers. Aha! she thought, pulling a pair of jeans from the back. She also pulled a red floral top from Michael’s approved collection in her duffel.

  There was no way Ana was going to stay in this lonely room all day. She grabbed the sword and heaved all of her body weight against the door, expecting the vines to have resealed it shut during the night. Instead, she flew through the door with ease and toppled to the ground. The sword clanged across the barren, clean tile. The vines were gone. In fact, there was no sign they had ever been there at all.

  The click of high heels filled the hallway, and a posh woman with dark hair that looked like it had been sliced with a knife strode toward her. “Anabella Halt?” she demanded, looking at Ana sprawled on the floor.

  Ana pushed herself up. “Yes?”

  “I’m Headmistress Whys.”

  “Pleased to meet you?” Ana wasn’t sure. The headmistress didn’t look very happy.

  The headmistress bent over to pick the sword off the ground. Gracefully, she twirled it up and then wiped it against her skirt to polish the blade. She looked into the metal at her own reflection and gave a small smile.

  “Come with me,” she said simply, turning her back on Ana with the expectation she would follow.

  “Did I do something wrong?”

  “We’ll discuss it in my office.”

  * * *

  Ana trailed behind her the rest of the way in silence. They were retracing Ana’s steps from the night before. Past the Fleurs’ now well-kept vines. Past the statues and armor and weapons of the Rockwell House. Back to the main entrance. Around the bend and into a pristine office that looked like it could have been designed in eighteenth-century France…on Earth.

  The headmistress sat down, resting the sword gently across her desk. She gestured for Ana to take a seat in the large armchair opposite. She did. There was a pause. Waiting for bad news was something Ana was quite familiar with. We’re sorry you failed your final exams. We’re sorry you’re being held back. We’re sorry you can’t come prom dress shopping because you have to work. We’re sorry the cancer is spreading.

  However, her familiarity with receiving bad news did not endear it to her, rather the opposite. She preferred her bad news like a Band-Aid. Ripped off quickly and cleanly. “So?” she prompted. “What’s the problem?”

  “The problem…is you,” she said simply.

  Well, this was new. A lot of her teachers had probably thought this, but none had ever been so brazen as to say it to her face. Ana had a grudging respect for Headmistress Whys. She pulled no punches. Ana disliked her words but admired her candor.

  The headmistress continued, “Your arrival was not announced. Your identity has not been confirmed. Your adviser passed no security checks. You illegally entered the parade. Frankly, you shouldn’t be here at all. And yet, here you sit.” She raised her hands in exasperation and let them drop to the table with a heavy thwack.

  “I can’t kick you out because what if you really are the last of the Halt line? On the other hand, I can hardly permit you to stay if you are an impostor.”

  Ana wondered if the headmistress wanted a response. She decided to see if she would just talk herself out.

  “So, where does that leave me? Damned if I do. Damned if I don’t,” she sighed and shifted some papers around on her desk. “And then, of course, there is the little matter of the vandalism and th
eft.”

  Now Ana was annoyed. “The what?”

  The headmistress looked down at a slip of paper on her desk. “Yes, I have the reports right here. One stolen sword.” She stuck the sword’s point straight into the soft cork floor for dramatic effect. It wobbled ever so slightly as if to taunt her. “I suppose we can confirm that account,” she said dryly.

  “No, no, no,” Ana said. “I didn’t steal it. I just borrowed it.”

  “And did you ask to do so?”

  “Well, no.”

  “Then, in polite society, that is known as theft, young lady. Are you aware of the heritage of this sword?”

  Ana bit her lip. “No…”

  “It dates to the third moon cycle.”

  “And that’s…very old?” Ana guessed.

  “Quite.”

  “I only took it because there were vines everywhere. I couldn’t even find the door to my dorm!”

  “Ah, that brings us to the second report.” She looked down at another slip of paper. “One report of damage to a rare and beloved plant of the Fleur family.”

  “I just told you! I had to cut it back! I couldn’t even get to my doorknob. I tried to touch the vine, and it attacked me!” Ana insisted. She was mad now. It was like Deirdre all over. It didn’t matter what was the truth and what was a lie. Ana was always the wrong one. She crossed her arms over her chest.

  “I saw no signs of overgrowth,” the headmistress pointed out.

  “The vines were there last night.”

  “And you cut it back yourself? Where are the trimmings then?”

  Ana couldn’t argue with her logic. She herself had no idea how it had all happened, but that didn’t make it untrue. She was frustrated.

  A knock came at the door.

  “Enter!” the headmistress called.

  Adam Rockwell walked in the door. Today, he had ditched his military green for a navy blazer and pants. He bowed to the headmistress, the portrait of politeness. “Headmistress,” he greeted.

  “Mr. Rockwell. What brings you here? I’m rather in the middle of something,” she said, inclining her head toward Ana.

  “That’s why I am here,” he explained. “There has been a terrible miscommunication.”

  “Oh?”

  “The Rockwell family sword was not stolen. I gave it to Ana as a welcoming gift. One of our guards panicked and reported it before speaking with the family.”

  “Mr. Rockwell, while I am sure you had the best intentions, I’m not sure even you have the right to give away such a priceless heirloom.”

  “Well, it was my great-great-great-great—probably a few more greats,” he muttered, “grandfather’s sword. And it is only here on trust, after all. So, if anyone could remove it from its holding place, it would be me, correct?”

  “Well, I suppose that is so,” she said, considering. “Anabella, is this what happened?”

  Ana looked at Adam, and one vivid green eye winked at her.

  “Yes, Headmistress,” she said, attempting to mimic Adam’s polished manner of speech. “I’m sorry I did not explain myself well before. The new setting has me flustered, and of course, my arrival here was unexpected, which I know has been troublesome for everyone involved, especially yourself. I’m sure things will be settled soon.”

  The headmistress wasn’t quite ready to let the matter drop. “There is still the small matter of the Fleur family vine,” she reminded.

  “Headmistress,” Adam interrupted. “I just walked past the Fleur family hall. The vines looked quite healthy. Are you sure this report is accurate?”

  Ana could tell that the headmistress was no dummy. She knew exactly what was going on. Probably more so than Ana herself. She knew Ana had stolen the sword. She knew Adam was covering for her. She probably knew the Fleur family vines had long covered more than their share of the corridor.

  She deliberated for a moment.

  “Ms. Halt, you’re free to go. For now. Mr. Rockwell, would you kindly escort Ms. Halt to breakfast. And see to it that no more foliage is in danger.”

  Adam bowed. “Of course. Thank you.”

  He went to collect the sword as Ana scrambled out of the high-back chair. Adam offered his arm, and she took it, giving him a wild look.

  “Oh, and Ms. Halt.” Ana turned around. “You’re going to need a class schedule.”

  Ana accepted a slip of cream-colored parchment. So much for her day off.

  Once they were clear of the office, Ana breathed a sigh of relief. “What just happened in there?”

  “Oh, typical family politics. The headmistress is in the extremely unpleasant position of refereeing. So I made it easy for her. What did the Fleurs do this time?”

  “They let their vines grow all over the walls and ceiling. I couldn’t even find my door. And this is going to sound crazy, but one of the vines tried to bite me.”

  “So let me get this straight. Your first move was to tear an antique sword down from a wall and start slashing them?”

  “Well, yeah.” She waited to see if he would be angry. After all, it had been his family’s sword.

  He laughed. “I think we’re going to get along.”

  “You’re not mad?”

  “Why would I be? It’s just an old hunk of metal. You’re only as good as your next victory,” he said, thrusting and parrying with an invisible foe. He straightened and tossed the sword to her.

  She caught it, barely.

  “It’s yours now. Consider it a gift from the Rockwell family,” he said with a smirk. “I can’t very well take it back now.”

  Ana turned the sword over in her hands.

  “Do you want to get some breakfast?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Definitely.”

  As Ana passed through the halls, she found everything was both different and the same. She had traded the industrial gray lockers and white cement block walls of her high school for vaulted ceilings and intricate architecture befitting a palace. The students even looked different. There wasn’t a single disheveled head of hair, and dress ranged from business casual to Kate Middleton princess attire. However, the way stares and whispers followed her down the corridors—that was familiar.

  At home, Ana had become a subject of both pity and fascination for many students. The girl who shaved her head with her mom during chemo. Then the girl who went from suburban good family to foster brat.

  They entered a carpeted ballroom with paneled walls and round tables. Adam led her to an empty table on the perimeter of the room. Ana lay the sword across the center of a linen-covered table. Heads turned to watch them sit. Lydia DuBois, the rude girl that had accused her of being an impostor, was glaring at Ana. If her eyes were lasers, which she supposed was possible here, she’d be a dead woman. Adam didn’t seem to mind the attention, but Ana felt like a chicken wing in a school of piranhas.

  “Why are they all staring?” she asked.

  “Two reasons. One, you brought a sword to breakfast.” He raised an eyebrow.

  She couldn’t help but smile. It was weird.

  “And two, usually families eat together at mealtime. It’s tradition.”

  “Oh, crap.” She started to rise from her chair. “I’m sorry, Adam. I don’t want to get you in any more trouble.”

  He put a hand on her arm, and she blushed.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just a tradition. Not a requirement. Sit.”

  “You’re sure?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  The table was set for twelve, though no one else was sitting with them. Each place setting contained three plates, a teacup, a water glass, another glass, at least four forks, and a linen napkin. Ana felt like she had walked into tea with the queen, not a school cafeteria. The room wasn’t full, but there were a smattering of other students present.

  After a few moments, a silver cart came around with tea and other beverages. Ana started to reach for a cup of coffee, but the man pushing the cart looked at her in surprise. She stopped short and ran
her wayward hand through her hair as though she had never been reaching for the tray at all. His expression normalized.

  “Grasshopper’s Revenge, please,” Adam said. The man filled the smallest glass on the table with a thick, goopy green liquid.

  “Miss?” the cart-pushing man prompted.

  “Uh, coffee, please,” Ana said. The man filled her dainty teacup with piping hot black coffee and returned it to its saucer without spilling a drop.

  “Cream? Sugar?” he asked.

  “Yes, please. Both.”

  The man reached into a silver server with tongs and dropped a solitary cube of sugar into the cup. Then, with a flourish, poured some cream to top it off.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  He bowed and departed for the next table.

  Adam downed the green beverage in one long gulp.

  Ana tried to disguise a grimace by stirring her coffee with a tiny spoon. “That looks…healthy,” she managed.

  “You mean disgusting. And you’re right. It’s both. Healthy and disgusting.”

  “It’s not really made from grasshoppers, is it?”

  He laughed. “No, it’s made from a blend of plants.”

  Ana took a sip of her coffee. It was probably the best coffee she had ever had. She wondered if it was because someone else had made it and served it to her. She was used to being the server, not the served. Or maybe drinking coffee from dainty teacups enhanced the flavor. Maybe she was secretly a snob and was just learning this about herself.

  “Let me see your schedule,” Adam said. “Maybe we have some classes together.”

  Ana pulled the folded paper from her pocket and spread it out on the table in front of them. Her full name was printed at the top in calligraphy along with her… titles. She did a double take before scanning the rest of the page. Her day was planned down to the minute.

  Anabella Halt

  Heir to the Halt Family Council Seat

  Monarch of the Southerly Province

  Daughter of the Seven Worlds

  Breakfast

  8:00 a.m. to 9:00 a.m.