The next morning, the past night's events seem so horrifyingly unlikely that I hope it's a dream. I convince myself for the most part that there is no way this actually occurred and so the morning starts off quite pleasantly. I have a shower and wash off the remains of my nightmare.

It's only when I leave my bedroom fully dressed for school, that I hear the buzzer by our front door. I peer down the camera and sure enough, Asher is standing, hands in his pockets blowing warm air into the cold London street.

I fiddle with a few buttons and then skip away into the kitchen where Emilio is singing along loudly to the radio, one of the new One Direction songs that I can't say I entirely hate. He's wiggling around his hips and flipping his spatula that's supposed to be attending to the bacon in the frying pan.

'Morning goose.' He grins.

'Goose is a new one.' I chuckle, taking a piece of toast from the table and chewing on the corner.

'I'm trying it out.' He replies, placing some bacon on a plate that he lays out in front of me, 'Is Asher coming for you today?'

'No, I'm meeting him at school.' I lie, very aware of the silence of the buzzer. Hopefully he's just given up and gone to school without me.

Emilio takes a seat opposite me and the window illuminates his tired face. I can tell last night took its toll and it comforts me that at least he can have an early night tonight, since we haven't got anything booked. The bags under his eyes are almost purple and I'm surprised he's even functioning.

'How come you're awake so early?' I ask as I come close to finishing my breakfast.

'Well I - Jesus!' He screams, almost knocking himself backwards off his chair.

I whip around to see Asher climbing the fire escape up the side of our building onto our balcony. His face is wild when he sees me, glasses almost slipping from his nose and embarrassed as Emilio lets him in through the window and rubs his sore elbow that he had to bash to steady himself.

'Asher, you scared the shit out of me, you couldn't have rung the bell?' Leo says, leaning against the wall and holding his heart as if it was going to burst.

'I did! I've been calling for twenty minutes!' Asher says, holding his hands up to help Emilio without actually touching the overreacting twenty-four year old.

Emilio's eyes narrow and he turns his body to face me, pointing a finger menacingly, 'Did you mute the buzzer?'

'No?'

'That's not a question you answer with a question.' Leo snaps, 'Marzia, you promised me.'

There's a tense few seconds where Emilio and I stare each other down, until finally I resign, turning back to my breakfast in a huff. Emilio takes his seat at the table and slowly resumes his appetite. Asher catches his posture and bows to the both of us, earning a frustrated grunt from my lungs.

'Asher, take a seat. Grab some breakfast, you're in for a long couple of weeks.' Emilio says, passing him a plate and pushing some toast towards him, 'And I swear to God if you bow in this house again, I'll be the one who mutes the buzzer tomorrow.'

'Sorry.' Asher says, but I have a sneaky feeling it won't be the last time he does it.

He takes a seat beside me, a foul look on his face and the same bags under his eyes that Leo has. I guess I make it harder and more stressful to protect me than I thought. I might have to fix that. Asher settles himself on a stool and I look over to the window Emilio has left ajar.

'Hey Neighbour.' I say absentmindedly, turning back to my breakfast.

'Hello... Brethren?' Asher replies, dumbfounded, 'What's with the new nicknames? Is that an Alanian thing?'

Emilio and I glance at each other, a smile dancing on his face. He clears his throat to hide his chuckle, 'Neighbour, he's our cat.' He says, pointing to the little tabby cat that has crept in through the open panes of glass, 'Well, he's not our cat technically, he's the neighbour's, but he likes to hang out here a lot. We don't know his actual name.'

'So you call him Neighbour?' Asher asks.

'Sometimes we call him Brethren.' I make fun of him and Emilio kicks me under the table.

'Marzia.' Emilio warns as he drops another couple of slices of toast onto the table, as Asher begins to butter one.

'Why are you here? We said we were going to meet at school.' I ask, thinking maybe the flu Asher was undoubtedly going to get from his stand in the cold, was avoidable.

'My contract said twenty-four/seven until after we get back. I'm just doing my job.' Asher replies.

'Trust you to be the kiss ass and actually listen to the contract.' I huff, 'You big nerd.'

Leo ruffles my wig, instructing me to shut up and be nice. I eat the rest of my food in silence and then throw my bag over my shoulder, not waiting for Asher to finish and catch up. By the time he's walking beside me I'm already out on the street.

'Ma- Raine.' He hisses, 'Wait.'

'Keep up then.' I reply, rolling my eyes, 'You're not much of a bodyguard if all you're going to do is slow me down. We're going to miss the bus.'

'I've brought the car.' Asher says, gesturing a few feet behind him to his car.

'Got somewhere to be after school?' I ask, remembering his excuse yesterday, before all of our secret identities were revealed.

It makes me look differently at Asher, given that I now see him as an agent, capable of more than just completing a chemistry exam in half the time. Now when I look at him, I can see the scars on his knuckles and fear permanently visible in his eyes.

'Not me,' Asher grins, an action that makes me very uneasy, 'We.'

Asher and I spend the entire ride to school bickering about his elusive statements about secretive trips. He claims he simply means back home, because it's safer than the bus, and I call him a liar and tell him his trousers are smoking so much that I roll the windows down and hang myself out.

By the time we reach the school, his fist has gone white from gripping my seat belt so tight to keep me in the car and he's nearly crashed at least twice. We agree, to keep ourselves sane, that I'll storm off away from him and he'll spend the morning trying to catch me in between classes to check if I'm okay.

And when I say we agreed, I mean it pretty lightly. I demanded, and ran off.

I complete my first lesson without any sign of him, despite the fact that he could easily get my timetable from Emilio, or Miss Van Doren, given that she knows who I am now. But sociology passes with no drama, apart from the embarrassment of pretending not to know the answers when the teacher calls me out for not listening.

When the bell rings as class ends, I throw my bag over my shoulder and grin as I realise my next hour is a free period, meaning I can hide myself somewhere in the school and avoid Asher for a while. I quickly leave the lecture hall, in case he's come to find me after class and dodge out of one of the fire escapes, hoping the alarm won't sound.

When it doesn't, confident that Asher would never leave through a door that asks him not to, I circle round the great hall, picking my way through the grass to the gravel pebble pavements. It's gotten colder and I'm glad Emilio made me bring a scarf this morning, because the crisp air lures me to stay outside.

I find a bench just below one of the windows and sit on top of one of my binders so I don't get all wet for the rest of the day. As much as I hate being here, I have to admit, I think I might miss Thorne when I'm gone, not just for the fact that it's been a constant for me for many years, but because it really is quite a beautiful and interesting place.

I knew when I first started attending Thorne that it was the boarding school opened by Asher's ancestry, but I asked Emilio if Asher would know anything of Alania, and he swore blind up and down that he'd never been to Alania, and he'd been personally assured by my father that no one at the school would start poking around about my heritage. Or Asher's for that matter.

By the time I arrived, the school was under the rule of a Van Doren, not a Thorne at all. I would've liked to have met Asher's dad, Rusty Thorne, but I never really gave it much thought. Maybe he could give me some insight as to why the Thorne clan turned their back on Alanian royalty, but Emilio would have to remind me that it didn't matter. They didn't want their heritage, and I wasn't allowed mine. Asking questions was pointless.

I think about Asher for a moment and wonder whether asking questions all those years ago might have done me some good after all. I doubt they would have let me tell Asher anything, even when he did become an agent. My whereabouts were strictly need to know, and he didn't.

I tuck my chin into my scarf and pretend to be reading when a few students hurry by on their way to class, late. They're only first years and they're looking at a map, confused as to where they need to be, even this far into the semester. It doesn't surprise me when they ask for directions, because I remember I was still getting lost even in fourth year.

I point them in the right direction, not needing to put up the bitchy front without anybody to see it. They thank me, before one whispers something to the other and they continue running. She probably reminded her that I'm a social pariah and she's not supposed to talk to me, but they listen and find the right door back into school anyway.

I lean my head against the back of the bench and look up at the school. I've found refuge in the little courtyard people hardly ever use, between the science labs and the dance studios, where they teach all students to properly waltz in sixth year. If you round the corner, the entrance to the great hall is a minute walk, but there's no proper pathway round here, so I doubt anyone will bother me.

I consider catching up on some reading, but Emilio made me promise not to bring any books to school with me, after people started asking questions when my bag was stolen and I was halfway through a copy of The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner, a very difficult book that has never once been on our syllabus. Now all I can carry around are the semester's books, and I finished all those when I took these classes at fifteen.

I could call Emilio and see how he's doing, but he's probably busy. I could try calling one of the triplets, but I only spoke to Zo a couple of days ago, and they should still be in school too. I don't even know what I want to talk to any of them about, I just need some familiarity. I resign myself to just sitting in peace, expecting a busy few weeks.

Hell, preparing myself for a busy rest of my life.

Thorne Academy did well in comforting me back when I first started, because it looks quite like some of the buildings we have back in Alania, the Royal University especially. I looked up the influences for Thorne Academy a couple of years after I arrived, and found it was supposed to look like the beautiful old American campuses from the movies, but it missed the mark a bit.

There's old Tudor and Victorian wooden panelling along all the walls, and the glass in between is in triangles with beautiful stained colours in the moulds in the middle. The grounds are meticulously tended to, with beautiful flowers planted everywhere to accommodate for every season, a holly bush next to the bench beside me.

The turrets of the great hall are visible over the rooftops, flying the school flag up above. There's a bell at the top and everytime the wind blows I can hear a soothing melody as it vibrates to itself in the tower. The great hall is vast and intimidating, but I've seen photos of the dances and it can be beautiful.

One year, someone accidentally knocked a candle onto one of the oil paintings mid-dance, and were on the receiving end of a very long lecture about respect. For once, the destruction wasn't my fault. It's not a particularly Catholic school, but I know the Thorne clan used to be, and they couldn't resist the portraits of our God, and their forefathers hanging in the hall. The slightly charred and wax splattered painting of the seventh Thorne descendant still hangs, albeit hidden a little by a curtain.

Absentmindedly, I take the rosary from around my neck that my grandmother gifted me as a child and pray to myself for a while. I realise in the past couple of days I've been too busy to remember my morning offerings. It's a habit I kept up when I left Alania, and feels more like talking to my brother than God, but if there's even a chance he can hear me, and I might see him again, I'll take it.

Also if my grandmother found out I stopped going to mass, she'd kill me, so if I at least still pray the rosary daily I hope to be able to ease her anger. For safety, the ACS asked me not to go to church, but offered a priest via Skype if I wanted one. Somehow, video-chatting about God didn't quite seem like something the disciples would have done, so I declined on the condition that it was to never be brought up to my grandparents.

I sit peacefully by myself for the rest of the forty-five minutes until the bell rings and I know I'm needed in English Literature. I stand up, stretching my cold legs and bid a silent farewell to the school, even though I know I have a few more days here. I won't have much more time without Asher, who'll definitely mock me if I asked him for this silent moment of reflection.

I sit down in my usual seat in English and don't bother pulling out my books, considering the blackboard reads, 'recap', and therefore suggests I don't need to learn anything new today. I'm all settled in for the hour of not paying attention, when Asher bursts through the doors at the back of the hall.

'Mr Thorne,' The teacher says from the front of the class as she stands in front of her desk, 'How can I assist you?'

I forget that the teachers treat him like liquid gold sometimes. He doesn't seem to notice, and despite the fact that he doesn't take this class, he excuses his rudeness, and takes up a chair beside me.

'I thought I'd sit in on the class today,' Asher says in front of everyone, and Cade and Phineas towards the front turn around to stare at him, 'I was considering taking the class in the New Year and wanted to get a feel for it. If that's alright with you, of course.'

He doesn't give her much choice, having already settled in and pulled his notebook from his bag. There's no way she'll kick him out of class, so I scowl and move one seat over. Thankfully, he stays put, clearly not wanting to cause anymore of a scene that he already has.

'Okay welcome, Mr Thorne.' She says, a little taken aback, but not willing to push it, 'Today we're going to be recapping the semester's modules, in preparation for your examinations in January. You all did brilliantly on your winter finals, but the work isn't over.'

'Where have you been?' Asher hisses over to me when the teacher is busy turning through lecture slides, 'I've been looking for you all morning.'

'Ah, what a coincidence, I've been avoiding you all morning.' I reply, pretending to listen to the tutor, 'You don't take this class, nor do you want to take this class.'

'You haven't given me much choice, have you?' He replies, equally as pissed off.

'That was the point.' I grumble.

'Miss Carson!' The teacher calls from the front of the class, shooting me a look to make me shut up, 'First of all, I would like to introduce you to the focus of next semester's module; Romanticism. Who can give me an example of what they find to be the most beautiful excerpts of romantic literature?'

Instantly, of course, hands shoot up all over the room, because everyone will have already completed the reading for next semester, and the semester afterwards. Asher and I are pretty much the only ones who keep our hands in our laps, me because I don't care, and him because he hasn't read the literature. Except, he probably has, he just doesn't realise it's on the syllabus.

"You should be kissed, and often, and by someone who knows how,' from Gone With the Wind.' One student suggests. I roll my eyes, it's a bit inappropriate for an English class, but whatever.

"In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admit and love you', Pride and Prejudice.' Another shouts out, ignoring the others who have patiently waited their turn. I know he doesn't really want to take the class, but Asher does seem to be having a good time anyway.

'The Great Gatsby,' One of the students stands, and holds a hand to his chest, 'He knew that when he kissed this girl, and forever wed his unutterable visions to her perishable breath, his mind would never romp again like the mind of God. So he waited, listening for a moment longer to the tuning-fork that had struck upon a star. Then he kissed her. At his lips' touch, she blossomed for him like a flower and the incarnation was complete.'

'Romp like God?' I whisper to myself, laughing.

"We are asleep, and then we fall in love." Another adds, a girl I remember having tripped me in the corridor once. She gives me the perfect opening to finally embarrass her, just a little, and very innocently.

'It's actually, 'We are asleep, until we fall in love.' It's War and Peace, Leo Tolstoy.' I say from my seat, and the whole class turns around to look at me. Asher's head flips towards me, clearly wondering why I'm being so reckless when I've kept up my Dumb and Dumber act so well for so long.

The tutor looks alarmed from the front, probably having never heard me contribute anything to class discussions, ever. The girl huffs, slumps in her seat and whispers something to her friend. She can whisper what she likes, she's still wrong, and she's still a dick.

'Okay, thank you Miss Carson. I believe you are correct.' She praises me awkwardly, unsure of words she's never spoken before. She notices the way one of my legs is kicked up on the seat in front, but decides today is not the day to tell me off for it, 'Anybody else?'

'I have one.' Cade says, standing up at the front of the room. He shoots Asher and I a strange look, before continuing, "He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same', Wuthering Heights, it's beautiful. A timeless example of untarnishable love.'

'You're wrong.' I snort, again catching the attention of everyone in the room. Cade flips around to look at me, glaring at my daring to defy him.

'Miss Carson, something else you'd like to add?' The tutor asks.

'Just that he's wrong, that's all.' I say, enjoying watching him squirm at the front with the unbelievable confusion as to how he could possibly be wrong.

'No I'm not.' He bursts, 'Clearly only one of us has ever read the book.'

'Yes, me.' I interrupt, 'If you think that quote signifies love whatsoever, you either haven't read the book, or you completely didn't understand it.'

'Marzia,' Asher whispers so only I can hear him, 'What are you doing?'

I can't tell whether he's asking because he's worried I'll blow my cover, or asking because he doesn't want me to embarrass his best friend. Either way, I decide that I might as well finally have some fun at this school. Especially since I must have read this book at least a hundred times, and I know Cade hasn't had royal tutoring on it.

'Their relationship is not beautiful, it's not to be admired.' I say, leaning back in my chair and realising how easy it could've been to humiliate him years ago, 'Cade, they're raised as siblings, as brother and sister. In the 1800's it was against the law to marry your adopted, or step or half siblings, at all. Not only is it incestual, it's illegal.'

'We're not debating whether or not society would have accepted them, we're talking about their emotional connection to each other.' He argues.

'You're telling me if it wasn't for societal norms, you'd sleep with your sister?' I grimace to humiliate him, made better by the fact that I know he has two elder twin sisters, and they're apparently very easy on the eyes. Despite the fact that people don't like me, this causes a ripple of laughter around the hall.

'I'm talking about their need to be together. It forms the very soul of who they are as people.' He snaps, trying his best to ignore the way I'm getting in his head, 'From childhood, they only have each other, they only ever want each other.'

'Is that why Heathcliff marries Isabella?' I counter, 'And treats her awfully, by the way. He calls her awful names, and physically abuses her, at one point he even throws a knife at her, and all the while she's pregnant with his child! He doesn't just stop at abusing women, he also repeatedly hurts Catherine's child, and why? Because she dared to marry someone else?'

'Yes, but you're not talking about Heathcliff and Catherine, are you?' He narrows his furious eyes, 'Again, you're focusing on the wrong thing.'

'Okay, so you want me to ignore everything else, and focus just on their relationship?' I ask him.

'Yes.' He replies bluntly. The whole lecture hall is silent now, and the tutor is watching us curiously, 'Given that the quote is solely about their relationship, just about the love they have for each other. Not their circumstance, or other relationships. Just the two of them.'

'Okay.' I shrug, 'Their entire relationship is toxic. They are only able to express their love through hurting each other. I know that both are victims of their circumstance, but they're not bound by that. They spend the whole book purposely inflicting pain on one another as a source to understand their emotions. Emily Bronte discusses how the characters claim to love one another, but she never actually tells us they do. She didn't write a romance novel, people just interpreted it as one.'

'Oh and where did you read that, the internet?' He sneers, trying not to let me know that I've definitely got him here, 'Because I know you haven't read the book.'

'No, I just have the ability to forge my own opinion, independant from my friends.' I snap, and I can't say it wasn't entirely aimed towards Asher, too.

'What friends?' He grins.

'Yours, clearly.' I gesture to Asher who sits uncomfortably next to me.

Cade looks furiously between us, and Asher stares at me, angry that I've used him against his friend when he didn't really have a choice as to who to sit with. I know he has a perfectly good reason to be in this class, sitting next to me, but Cade doesn't and it's driving him mad.

'Alright, thank you for the discussion.' The tutor says, gesturing for Cade to return to his seat and for the class to continue the lecture, with no more participation from the students.

When the lecture ends, I throw my bag over my shoulder and storm away from Asher as fast as I can. It's not easy, considering I pretty much have to climb over him to get out, but he's so flustered by my place on his lap that it takes him a few seconds to catch up.

'What the hell was that?' He asks, gesturing back to the hall where Cade has burst out, furious and looking for me to unleash his vengeance.

'Me straddling you in our lecture hall?' I grin, 'Some would say kinky, dangerous even.'

'I'm serious.' He says, straight faced.

'Me too.' I wink, laughing as I strut down the hall.

He catches up in a few strides, 'Can I get an answer now?'

'Yes, no, maybe. I'm not sure - the chicken or the egg, and finally it'll have to be your place because Emilio is home.' I rattle, passing by a group of boys hanging around their lockers. Asher stops for a pause to punch the metal before carrying on.

'Could you stop it? You're about to blow your cover.' Asher grumbles.

'I'm not blowing anything.' I say, and he flushes a deep red across his cheeks. I didn't mean the innuendo, but he doesn't need to know that. My comedic genius is too quick for even me sometimes, 'But you will if you don't keep your mouth shut and stay in your own damn classes. It's way too obvious that something's up if you keep ditching your smart kid lectures to come to mine.'

'I don't have a choice if you're going to keep running away from me.' He snaps.

'Oh look, here I go again.' I say, making my pace impossibly faster.

Just as I round a corner, a kid walks straight into me and throws my shoulder in a circle. At first, he stammers as if he's about to apologise, but then he sees that it's me and decides to laugh instead. Asher catches up just as my back hits the wall and knocks the wind out of me.

'Watch yourself Carson.' The kid says as tough as he's able considering that he's short for his age and looks like he can hardly bench press his spoon of cereal in the morning.

'Hey,' Asher says, grabbing the kid's collar. His smirk instantly falls and he drops his books in shock, 'You going to apologise to her?'

'I'm really sorry.' He babbles, holding his hands up to Asher who doesn't let go of his shirt for a second. When he lets him go, he grabs hold of his books and spirits off in the other direction down the corridor.

'I'm gonna get killed.' I roll my eyes and carry on without Asher.

'What the hell is your problem now?' He asks me, 'I'm meant to protect you.'

'Yeah, from guys with guns, not kids who bump me in the corridor.' I tell him.

'He was being an asshole.' He gestures behind him.

'Yeah, and I wonder who he learned that from.' I hiss, which quickly shuts him up, 'Now be quiet before someone hears you. I have performing arts, and you have organic chemistry.'

He pauses for a second, unsure what to do.

'Thorne, fuck off.'

'Right, fine.' He strops, and when I flounce away from him this time, he has the good sense not to follow me.

On my way to performing arts, I debate going back to my hiding place considering I never do anything in acting class. Aside from the fact that it's completely pointless if you don't want to pursue a career in acting, or terrifying if you've got stage fright, I literally don't have to do anything.

Technically, any student in the class automatically gets a part in the school production, but given the amount of auditions I missed and the amount of times I've point blank refused to read a script or get up on stage, they've cast me in the wonderfully passive and more importantly, silent role of Tree.

Emilio didn't share my excitement, and lectured me about the fact that I've never once been in a school production that he could come see. I reminded him that if they asked me to wear a wig, I'd be screwed pretty fast. He said it was no excuse and that I was a buzzkill.

The tutor told me not to tell anyone, but we've already agreed that come show night, I'll be replaced with a large cardboard cutout, and she'll tell Miss Van Doren that I just didn't show up. She's a kind woman and our agreement means that she gets an entirely invested cast, and I basically get a free period. I'm all prepped ready for my hour of relaxation, when the tutor comes over to me and smiles.

'Raine, you've had a timetable change, you're needed in the great hall.' She tells me.

'What do you mean? What did I do?' I ask her, wondering if my detention is finally catching up to me.

'I've just had a request from Headmistress Van Doren that you go there as soon as possible.' She says, 'She failed to mention why, only that it was urgent.'

I stand up, awfully confused and a little concerned and begin marching my way back over to the great hall. It's not too far from the performing arts studio, so when I arrive I'm puzzled at the presence of many other students that are standing around in little groups, looking just as curious as I am. I notice Cade, Phineas and Lennox but they're not stood with Asher. Instead, I spot him over in the corner next to Miss Van Doren.

He ruffles his hair and finishes his conversation and then makes his way over to me with his aunt following him. So much for him fucking off.

'What's going on?' I ask him and he looks back, scowling at Miss Van Doren behind him.

'Ask Emilio.' He scowls. I look over at Miss Van Doren who looks extremely giddy.

'Oh, this is just wonderful! Emilio called to tell me that you hadn't had any professional ballroom dance training since you were small, and asked a little favour!'

Oh God.

'The Alanian Civil Service has sent over a professional ballroom dancer, trained in Alanian Royal dances to teach to you and your fellow students!' She says, 'I only wish I could participate!'

'That's fine, you can take my place.' I tell her and she ignores me, and walks over to the instructor who is setting the students up into pairs.

'Emilio did this?' I ask Asher quietly as we're shuffled into the group in the middle.

'Yep.' He says, with the annoyance clear in his voice.

'I'm going to kill him.' I hiss.

'I'll bury his body.' He whispers back.

There's no surprise when Asher and I get paired together, and the instructor sends me a knowing look as he guides us into our place on the dance floor. I recognise him from back in Alania, I remember him teaching Christopher. It's weird seeing someone from my past in my present when they've been so long told to stay apart from one another. I feel a wave of unsureness wash through my stomach, and wait for it to settle.

The instructor, whose name hasn't come back to my brain, stands at the front and begins to tell the eager students all about the importance of dance, and the classes he runs for the elite schools, which I'm sure is a lie. He hated teaching the royal family, let alone high school students. Something about a disdain for the phrase, 'those who can't, teach.'

I've heard many a time about how he most certainly, can.

He talks very quickly about the school's Alanian heritage and the workshop's focus on Alanian royal dances, but I can tell he's been asked to keep this section short and sweet, because he immediately moves on. As he talks, the school's orchestra files in silently, and takes their places on the stage, rows and rows of delicate violins and perfectly polished brass instruments.

The lengths that Emilio will go to make me suffer are incomprehensible.

We're sent to either side of the hall to sit ourselves on chairs, only for the boys to be instructed on how to stand and bow to the ladies. I've been bowed to a hundred times, by a hundred people, and I still can't express how much I hate the experience. When Asher bows and extends his hand, I almost feel like punching him in the face and leaving for good.

I could too, it's not like I really need to graduate.

'Can't you just dance around me and make me look good?' I groan.

'It's going to be hard to make you look good.' Asher chuckles.

The instructor beckons all the women to take the men's hands and stand up with them, swaying with the music that the orchestra begins to play. Much to the delight of Miss Van Doren, the instructor asks for her help to demonstrate the dance, and I watch as Asher cringes at the sight of his aunt, and headmistress ballroom dancing with an overly-energetic Alanian instructor.

'Do you know how to do this dance?' Asher asks me as he looks down at his feet and tries to recreate the steps demonstrated on stage.

'Vaguely, if I remember right.' I tell him, 'Why? Are you asking me to lead?'

'Don't you always?' He grins at me, 'I don't think I've ever seen Miss Van Doren enjoy herself this much.'

'At least someone's enjoying this experience.' I chuckle, spinning the way we're instructed.

'I don't know about that, I think Lennox is.' He says, gently gesturing his head to where Lennox is dancing with Grace Settlby and trying his best to seem graceful in his actions. I can tell he's hoping she won't notice that he's got two left feet, but even from behind it's obvious that his clumsy, jerky movements are bugging her, 'He's liked her for a long time, I think he'd have worn a three piece suit if someone told him he'd get to dance with her today.'

'It's a shame she's in love with you then.' I tell him, and he raises an eyebrow, 'I assume you left that out of your conversation with Lenny.'

'Of course I did, because she isn't.' He laughs. The instructor asks for us to lean apart from one another and then come back together, and Asher finds the action surprisingly easy.

'You're telling me you never noticed the way she looks at you, or the way that she always seems to be hanging around your car hoping for a lift home?'

'It sounds like you've got a lot of experience knowing what loving me might feel like.' He grins, 'I forget, who am I driving home tonight?'

'I'll walk.' I say, gently slapping him on the arm.

The class seems to be finding the dance easy enough to learn, and without focusing on what I'm doing, muscle memory kicks in and I don't miss a single step. The dancing pairs congregate in a circle in the middle of the hall and part a few feet to bow and curtsey to one another. It's difficult in my boots and I almost wobble, making Asher chuckle at me.

I look up, noticing how he's found himself a content smile, like dancing with me hadn't quite ruined his day after all. I squirm under the attention.

'You need to bend your head.' I say, reaching up and twisting his chin so that he's facing the wall instead, leaving me feeling much less self conscious.

'So you're not even supposed to look at the person you're dancing with in Alania?' He questions, still keeping his face aside, as always, following the rules.

'No, it's actually the first rule you learn.' I shrug, 'But right now you're not allowed, because you're making me nauseous.'

He rolls his eyes, dropping his head back to face me. He punishes me by spinning me a little too fast next time we turn, but I trust he won't do it again, considering how embarrassed he was when the instructor told him to be gentler. It's the first time in his life he's been told he's doing something wrong and it's thrilling to witness.

'So, is this what we'll have to do at your dad's coronation?' He asks, and I try not to squirm away from him when he puts his hand back on my waist.

'Maybe not this one, but something similar.' I mumble, trying to keep my voice down so people don't hear us. When an old Frank Sinatra song begins to play from the students on the stage, I can't seem to hide my smile, 'This is one of my mother's favourite songs.'

'The Way You Look Tonight?' Asher confirms, 'She's got good taste, your mum.'

'Yeah she does.' I smile, 'She'll hate you.'

'I'm hurt.' He grins, letting the insult roll off his back when he spins me.

'This was her wedding song to my father.' I tell him, even though I'm not sure why, 'Zoë and I used to watch this old film of their first dance back to back when we were little. We might as well be Italian given how much Frank Sinatra has been part of our family.'

'Zoë?' He asks.

'My best friend. Don't worry, you'll get the chance to meet her.' I smile, 'She's part of the Greenewood royal clan, her and her brothers.'

'Everyone's going to be there for the ceremony?' He asks me.

'They should be, all twelve. I don't know about the Moreau clan given the fact that they hate us, but maybe.' I say, 'It's tradition.'

'Would my ancestors have gone?' He asks me quietly. I look at him for a second, trying to figure out what he's feeling and why he's bringing up his family when I know it makes him nervous. His hand is tighter on my hand and my waist and his swaying becomes a little more tense.

'Yeah, they would.' I smile softly, 'They were important to my family for nearly two centuries. You'd have been front and centre, most likely.'

'But not anymore.' He says as if having to remind himself. He pauses for a second, and after leaning the both of us back, he swallows his nerves, 'Have any other clans ever renounced their titles?'

'No, I don't think so.' I tell him, 'The Theuderic clan is pretty small nowadays, and they don't bother much with the whole thing. But they're very religious and the eldest grandfather is our cardinal, so any big clan decisions still include them. I think the Saint Omen clan had skipped a generation back in the twenties, but they got it back.'

'So, an ancestor can renounce their claim to the clans, and a descendant can claim it again?' He asks a little too quickly.

'I guess it's possible.' I say, squinting at him, 'Are you asking for a reason? I could mention it to Emilio and find out-'

'No, just curious.' He interrupts me, and his tone tells me that there's no point asking him again, 'Which one of these dances is specifically for coronations then?'

We've moved onto another dance now, where the women and men dance alongside the other couples, using each other to form beautiful patterns on the dancefloor as the pairs intersect with one another. He's safe to ask this question however, because the couple that is supposed to be beside us, is four steps behind and still on the other side of the hall.

'I'm not sure, I've never been to one before.' I shrug, and he rolls his eyes that I can't even control my common gestures when we're dancing, 'This one is a wedding dance though, I remember it from Ellory Courcillion's wedding when I was eleven.'

'Will you dance this one at your wedding?' He asks. The question comes a little out of the blue and I blink at him when he asks it.

'Probably.' I say slowly, trying to avoid the details of my marriage that I don't like bringing up, 'It depends who I marry, they might have their own royal traditions.'

'Okay everyone, ready to switch partners!' The instructor shouts from the front and instructs the boys to bow and step to their right.

Asher looks over and notices the way that Lennox doesn't seem happy about him being Grace's new partner and he flashes me a questioning look to imply I might have been right. He bows nonetheless, and when he takes hold of Grace, I notice how he holds her a little further away from his body that he did with me.

For everything I can say about Asher Thorne, he tries his best to be a good friend.

I only vaguely know the boy that takes Asher's place, but by the end of our section of the dance, I don't think it'll be possible to forget his face. Can you forget a face that has caused you so much pain? Even through my boots, the weight of his shoes on my toes make me double over wincing a couple of times.

'You okay?' Asher asks when the dance is over. I sit myself down heavily on the seat by the side and wiggle my toes around in my shoes to make sure they're not broken.

'A few fractures, some breaks here and there. Nothing serious, I'll be fine.' I smile up at him, 'How was your dance with Grace?'

'Are you going to let this Grace thing go?' He asks me, 'It's becoming almost borderline obsessed.'

'I'll let it go when you ask her out.' I tell him, and swing my bag over my shoulder, entirely ready for this hour to be done with, 'I took you for a lot of things Thorne, but never a coward.'

'I couldn't do that to Len.' He says, gesturing over to where he's trying to make small talk with her.

'Ah-hah! So you do like her.' I point at him.

'No I don't!' He groans. He takes my hand and drags me up, 'You've got a free period next, right?'

'Yeah, why? You wanna get hot chocolates and play hopscotch together?' I grin.

'No, I actually want your help.' He says, 'But you have to promise not to be a dick about it.'

*

'So you've really never bothered to learn about your ancestry?'

'You're being a dick.' He points out, over the drinks that he insisted on buying us. Asher has set us both up with a table in the corner of the cafeteria at Thorne. Lunch wasn't long ago, and so it's pretty empty, especially since it's the last period of today and everyone who has this free tends to head home early, 'You said you'd help me.'

'Yeah, yeah whatever, I will.' I roll my eyes. I might've made a joke about the hot chocolates, but the ones here are pretty good and the chairs are comfortable enough that I'm pretty happy curled up in the corner, even if Asher is here too, 'What is it you want to know?'

'Everything, really.' He shrugs, 'But I guess, start at the beginning?'

'How much do you know about the royal clans?' I ask him, setting up a little line of sugar along the table to represent the point I'm about to make to him.

'Let's say next to nothing and begin there.' He chuckles.

'Okay, so when Alania split from France, there were twelve founding fathers, twelve founding families that all brought something different. My ancestor Alaric was the leader, the Theuderic family brought religion, my friend Zoë's clan, the Greenewood's were judges from France, they helped establish the justice system and so on.'

'Okay.' He says slowly, looking around at the sugar packets that I arrange to represent the families.

'All twelve founding fathers joined together in France to form the new country. They were tired of the conflicts in France with Napoleon, Napoleon the Second, King Louis.' I explain, 'The Tallyrand clan were experts on the geographical regions of Northern France, and what would become our borders, and they suggested that the best place to fight the independence battle would be The Black Forest.'

'Now I remember that class.' Asher cuts in, 'There's The Black Independence Battlefields, right? Just above the forest, there's huge memorials to fallen soldiers.'

'Yeah, I never said it was a battle that we were winning.' I tell him as I point out the line of sugar he now knows are our borders, 'The Moreau clan were in charge of the military, but we were massively failing. The French army was way bigger than ours and we were on the verge of losing everything we were fighting for.'

'That's where I come in?'

'Yes, that's where grandad Gillespie Thorne comes in.' I smile, 'Alaric Castille and Casimis Moreau were planning a huge final wave of soldiers over the Oval Arch Bridge, known as the Devil's Bridge afterwards for it's supposed bad luck. Then Gillespie showed up in the trenches and told them to stop. He wasn't very politically powerful in France, but he knew people well enough to know that the Alanian army was heading straight for an ambush.'

'How'd he figure that out?' He asks me.

'He was friends with another family that let it slip at a dinner party. They left Paris that evening and rode through the night to get to us and warn us off before dawn.' I've never seen Thorne listen to me as closely as he does right now, 'When they arrived, Alaric and Casimis were able to adjust their plans, and it's the only reason that our country succeeded and thousands of our men were spared.'

'And so he knighted them?' He says, confused.

'No, the Royal Clans aren't knighted the way you might expect.' I explain, moving the sugar packets into a circle, and adding a thirteenth for his family, 'They're woven into the fundamental constitution of the country, and through the church, the men became Saints. Alaric Castille is the Saint of Peace, Moreau is the Saint of War, Greenewood's are the Saints of Justice. Your great grandfather two hundred years back became the Saint of Aid and was officially coronated as a founding father.'

'What does that really mean?' He squints.

'Well, as much as Alania is a monarchy, we also have a government that is responsible for the country's general, well, governing. But the Royal Clans represent a special committee, the Founder's Council, and are ultimately responsible for some of the big decisions for the country. They meet about wars, about economic crisis', anything that threatens or changes the fundamentals of the country. They'll be meeting about my father becoming king, I'm sure. Being sworn as a Royal Clan binds you to protect your country whatever the cost.'

'So my ancestors were part of the council.' He says, as if explaining it to himself.

'They were a little higher than that.' I tell him, 'After the war ended and Alania was independent, there was an investigation into the practices of the Moreau family and their organisation of our army. It turned out they'd received the exact same information from the exact same family about the ambush, and Casimis Moreau hadn't said anything. Alaric didn't take their title away because they could never prove what they'd done, but it was safe to say that they weren't trusted anymore.'

'What does this have to do with my family?'

'Well, because of their military leadership, the Castille clan were worried about the Moreau's place as second in line to the throne. But when it was clear that the army were dedicated to their Castille king, and not the Moreau army leadership, Alaric honoured Gillespie as second in line to the throne for his dedication and aid.' I explain, 'It meant that if anything happened to our clan, and we could no longer rule, it would fall to your family.'

'We were in line for the thorne?' He says, slightly stunned.

'It was more of an honorary title, but you were the ones Alaric trusted enough to risk his entire country. Your family didn't have any army behind them, or any money to fund investments in the country. The Castille's have trusted your family for their moral guidance over everything else.'

'Do you know why my grandparents renounced their title?' He asks, after letting the information settle over him for a minute.

'They didn't.' I tell him, 'Ash, your father did.'

'My dad?' Asher asks, eyebrows raised.

'Yeah, you never knew?' I squint, and he shakes his head, 'Your grandparents lived in England, but they still had their royal title. When they died, your father is the one who renounced his claim, but I don't know why.'

'And then Moreau became second in line again?'

'Unfortunately.' I smile, 'We weren't expecting your father to do what he did, so we never changed the old hierarchy, and the Moreau clan themselves would've had to vote forward any changes, and there's no way they were going to do that.'

Asher nods, taking in the information. I'm sure he's going to have more questions the more time he thinks, but for now, he seems quite content with everything I've said. He starts swirling the sugar on the table around his finger, and after a moment, he holds up the thirteenth sugar packet and stares at it for a second.

'Can I ask you something?' I say.

'Sure.' He smiles, 'I've asked you plenty.'

'Why did you never try to find out about your ancestors?'

He pauses for a second, 'I'm not sure really. I don't remember my family much, but from what I can, we never really spoke about it. I never thought about my heritage at all until someone from the ACS came to me and asked me to join.'

'Why did they ask you?'

'I don't know.'

'Why did you say yes?'

'I don't know that either.' He chuckles, 'But it felt like I was part of something. It seemed, when I was younger that even though I didn't really have a family, that there was somewhere out there where I belonged.'

'Do you want me to start singing Hercules to you now?' I chuckle at him. He blows the sugar from the table onto my lap and laughs at me, 'I'm going to pay for that in some subtle way later, aren't I?'

'It's not going to be that subtle.' He winks, and just the same as this morning, an uneasy feeling creeps over my bones.

'Why, what are you going to do to me?' I ask as he stands up and begins to walk us to the car park.

'I'm going to make you live your worst nightmare.' He whispers as he looks at me, 'Fun.'