Accidentally Ascended at Princess School!

Q squinted at Professor Ligarius, the way his silver brows arched slightly as he studied her with that sharp, owlish gaze. 

His lips pressed into a line that was too stern to be a smile but not quite the usual scowl he wore when reprimanding the other girls. She didn't have to look in a mirror to know her expression was probably as dumb as a sack of rocks. Her mouth might've been hanging open a bit too, because she caught Maddy shifting beside her, pressing her lips together like she was trying not to sigh.

Honestly, Q had no clue what a Lady-in-Waiting was. 

The words sounded nice enough, like they belonged to the kind of person who'd wear silk gloves and sip tea without slurping. But as far as their actual meaning went? Not a clue. Was it a maid? A glorified servant? Or maybe it was one of those fancy girls who stood around looking pretty, ready to fan the princess when she got too warm. 

She wished she had the guts to ask, but Professor Ligarius's sharp expression dared her to say something stupid, and even she knew better than to take that bait. 

Instead, she did what she always did when she didn't understand something. 

She stood there, mouth half-open, eyes fixed on the professor like the words would somehow explain themselves if she stared long enough.

Professor Ligarius sighed, a deep, deliberate thing that seemed to carry the weight of the world. 

Then he bent down, his long coat swishing around his boots as he disappeared behind the enormous desk that dominated the room. For a moment, Q thought he was going to leave her in that awkward silence, her confusion mounting by the second. But when he straightened, her heart sank.

He was holding a book. No, not a book—a tome. The thing was massive, its cracked leather binding thicker than her arm. When he set it on the desk with a heavy thud, dust flew from its cover in great, choking clouds. Q staggered back, coughing violently as her throat and nose filled with the musty scent of ancient paper and neglect.

"Gods above!" she sputtered, doubling over and swiping at her face. "Did that thing crawl outta the grave?"

Beside her, Maddy coughed delicately into her gloved hand, her movements controlled and precise despite the discomfort. The contrast made Q's hacking fit feel even more humiliating. She shot her friend a glare between gasps, but Maddy avoided her gaze, focused instead on smoothing her skirts like nothing was amiss.

Professor Ligarius didn't so much as blink. 

"This," he said, brushing the remaining dust from the book with a faint air of ceremony, "Contains everything you need to know about being a Lady-in-Waiting. Its wisdom is both comprehensive and timeless."

Q eyed the tome like it might bite her. The worn cover bore an intricate design—gold filigree, faded with age, winding its way around an embossed title she couldn't make out. The pages, thick and yellowed, seemed ready to crumble at the slightest touch. The thing looked less like a guide and more like a weapon, and Q had half a mind to ask if she'd need to swing it at anyone.

"Right," she said, her nose still scrunching as she wiped her mouth on her sleeve. "But it's huge. Can't you just explain it? Like, y'know, in words a normal person can understand?"

For a moment, Professor Ligarius didn't respond. His gray eyes narrowed slightly, and Q could swear she saw his lips twitch in what might've been a smirk. But if it was, it vanished as quickly as it came. He pushed the book across the desk, the sound of its weight scraping against the polished wood making her flinch.

"Can you read?" he asked, his tone flat and clinical, like he was inquiring about the weather.

Q flushed, her embarrassment instant and red-hot. She straightened, her chin jutting forward in defiance. 

"Course I can read!"

"Excellent." Ligarius leaned back, clasping his hands behind him. "Then you should have no trouble. Everything you need is in here. I suggest you begin immediately."

He pushed the book closer, the gesture slow and deliberate, like he was laying down a gauntlet.

Q stared at the tome, her confidence faltering. Sure, she could read—sort of. Enough to manage signs and the occasional letter. But this? This was no farm ledger or feed store inventory. The thought of wading through its dense pages made her stomach churn.

She turned a desperate glance toward Maddy, hoping for some kind of intervention. But before her friend could so much as blink, Ligarius turned his sharp gaze on her.

"And Miss Carlton," he said, his tone laced with warning. "Do not assist her. If she is to succeed as a Lady-in-Waiting, she must do so on her own merits."

Maddy hesitated, her hands clenching at her sides. Q saw the way her lips parted, the protest forming there, but she said nothing. Instead, her shoulders stiffened, and she gave a faint, reluctant nod. The sight made Q's chest tighten with equal parts gratitude and frustration.

"Well," Q muttered, dragging the book toward her with a groan. "Guess I better get started before the thing decides to grow legs and run off."

She flipped the cover open, the brittle pages crackling in protest. Her heart sank further at the sight of the densely packed text, the words swimming before her eyes in tight, unforgiving lines.

It was going to be a long, miserable night.

"You may return to your class, Miss Carlton. You will have the opportunity to speak with Miss Q tomorrow once she is settled."

Maddy hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line as she glanced at Q. For a moment, it seemed like she might argue, but propriety won out. She curtsied, her movements graceful despite her disheveled state. "Yes, Professor Ligarius."

Q felt the shift before Maddy even straightened. Her friend's presence, always steady and grounding, began to fade as she turned toward the door. Panic stirred in Q's chest, a raw and sudden thing. Without thinking, she stood, ready to follow. The scrape of her chair's legs against the polished floor cut through the quiet like a shout.

"I'll just—" she started, her words fumbling to match her movement.

"You will stay, Miss Q."

Q froze mid-step, caught between the weight of his command and the ache of watching Maddy slip out the door without so much as a backward glance. Her legs felt too stiff, her hands too restless, as she sank back into the chair, her body tense with uncertainty.

"Why?" she asked, though her voice came out quieter than she intended. "What for?"

Professor Ligarius didn't answer immediately. Instead, he reached for the quill and inkpot on his desk, his movements deliberate. The feather's tip dipped into the inkwell with practiced ease, and Q watched as he unrolled a clean sheet of parchment, the faint crackle of the paper filling the silence. He began to write, his strokes smooth and precise, like he was weaving something out of the very air.

The rhythmic scratch of the quill set Q's nerves on edge. She shifted in her seat, her fingers gripping the edges of the chair as though it might ground her. 

"What's that?"

Professor Ligarius didn't look up. "A letter."

"To who?" she pressed, leaning forward just enough to make the chair creak.

"Your parents," he said simply, his tone betraying no emotion. "You cannot remain here without their consent."

The words hit her like a bucket of cold water, stealing the breath from her lungs. Her parents. The very idea of them made her stomach twist into knots. Q shook her head, the movement quick and instinctive, like she could ward off the thought entirely. 

"They won't approve," she said, her voice trembling with the weight of certainty. "There's no way they'd say yes."

Professor Ligarius didn't stop writing. His quill continued its steady dance across the parchment, unfazed by her protests. 

"Then they will need convincing."

Q felt the first stirrings of desperation take hold. She leaned forward, her hands gripping the edge of his desk as she tried to meet his unyielding gaze. 

"Can't we just pretend they said yes?" she asked, her voice rising in pitch. "You're a professor. You've got, I don't know, authority. Can't you just… make it official without asking?"

At that, Professor Ligarius paused. He set the quill aside with the kind of precision that spoke volumes, each movement deliberate and purposeful. Then he looked at her, his gray eyes steady, sharp as a blade but softened by something she couldn't quite place.

"Miss Q," he began, his tone quiet but firm. "You must learn to put your trust in those who wish to see you succeed. The world is full of obstacles, but there are also hands willing to guide you forward—stepping stones to lift you above the current."

Q frowned, her grip on the desk loosening as his words sank in. They didn't make her feel better, exactly, but they carried a weight that made it hard to argue. Still, the thought of bringing him to the farm, of dragging this sharp-edged, dignified man into the chaos of her life, made her insides churn.

Professor Ligarius stood, the motion smooth and fluid, as though he'd already decided the matter. He folded the letter neatly, sealing it with a precise press of his fingers, and slipped it into his coat pocket. Then he extended his hand toward her, palm up, expectant.

"Lead the way," he said, his voice as steady as ever. "We will speak to your parents together."