She carried on. “They were searching the grounds and forest for an ancient settlement that’s rumoured to be here.”
“And?” Philomena was drawing this out, I hoped it would end somewhere exciting and informative.
“Well, nothing was found. But the records hint that something was here. So, the conclusion all those boring-as-hell experts decided on was that the castle itself is on top of where the settlement must have been.”
I frowned and mulled over this. “That can’t be right, there would be other clues: scattered pottery, stray animal bones.”
Phil raised an eyebrow and then pretended to yawn. “You should meet my parents, you’d get on like a storm.”
“Maybe I will.” I gave her another smile. “When are they coming back?”
She shrugged, and I took a sip of my coffee, shifting my gaze as she frowned, lips downturned at her breakfast. “Anyway.” She shook out her curls. “So, from what I unfortunately was forced to overhear as I died a slow and painful demise due to extreme boredom, was that no one can understand what’s happened. You,” she wagged her finger at me, “are right. It’s like magic. The castle has absorbed everything, or everything else has disappeared.”
“Magic?” A creeping tingle crawled along my spine. I ignored it. Magic was stupid made-up shit little girls believed in.
She shrugged again as she shoved a spoonful of runny, lump-filled liquid into her mouth.
“Doesn’t explain my dreams though.” I was too scared to close my eyes in case I saw the same people again. The girl and… him.
“Maybe it’s ghosts?”
The crawling shiver from my spine spread over my skin. I couldn’t allow myself to think of the similarities between Tristan 'I’m such a Psychopath' Prince, and the man from my dreams.
“What is it?” Phil peered closer.
“Nothing.” I wanted to tell her, but I held back. It was too crazy.
The only rational explanation I had was that it must be the dislike Tristan Prince and I mutually held for one another causing my dreams. That was logical. Ordered. I could categorize it and file it somewhere in my 'Don’t Open' box.
Logical… I think I abandoned that when I stepped out of the limo on my first day here.
Maybe I could speak to Tristan, try to sort out this irrational hatred we seemed to have developed without even communicating with one another. My throat ached where his hands had squeezed the air out of me. Then there was that incessant tug to go find him. Would we talk if I were to track him down? Would we fly at one another, hurt one another, kill one another… or would we kiss?
This was the moment my stability teetered over the edge.
I couldn’t stay here like this. I was exhausted, unrested, and I’d been attacked. If that could happen in the first three days, what hope was there for the following weeks? “I’m going to go and speak to Mrs Cox.” Impulsively, I pushed from my chair.
“What about?” Phil went to stand after me, but I held out my hand to stop her and she hovered an inch out of her plastic seat.
“How long I have to stay in this place before I’m allowed to leave.” I turned on my heel telling myself her crestfallen face didn’t hurt the way it really did.
My rap on Mrs Cox's door was met with a cheery, “Come in.” I straightened myself up and tried to look like I meant business as I pushed my way through.
Her office still smelled of toast, which was more than the students in the great hall were getting.
I was determined that if I ever got out of here and into the town Phil had mentioned we could go to, I’d use what little money I had to buy a cheap toaster and some sliced bread. Before I starved to death.
She was sitting behind her desk, but she stood when I entered. My eyes automatically flickered to the tapestry of the stones and then back to her.
“Ah, Mae, and to what do I owe the pleasure of this morning call?” Although her skirt was immaculate, she smoothed at the material with her hands. Next to her I looked ungainly and like I’d just dived straight out of a dumpster. “I assume everything is okay? Mrs Barlow says you have a passionate view on Shakespeare.”
I flushed, the wind taken out of my sails. “I don’t think that’s true,” I stuttered. Next to her gentle Scottish burr, I sounded brash and sharp. It hurt my own ears to even hear my voice.
“Oh, Mrs Barlow is an excellent judge of character.” She peered over the rim of her glasses, her quick gaze searching my appearance. “Are you okay, Mae? You know in the absence of your aunt you can speak to me about anything.” She slipped back into a giant leather chair behind her desk, almost disappearing into it. Coughing, I perched on the visitor chair where I’d sat and eaten my toast only a couple of days before. Time was odd here. It seemed I’d been here forever. I hadn’t. I’d only really made one friend, with no more time to meet other people and talk to them—my welcome party had been an epic fail.
But then wasn’t it the dreams at night making my days here seem longer than they were?
“Actually, that’s what I was coming to ask you.” I gasped in a quick breath for luck. “See, I was wondering when my aunt would come back. I just, I just don’t know if this is the place for me. I’m not sleeping well, I’m tired, and it seems insane to just thrust myself into a school when I don't even need to be here.” My words ran on with no pause. With a calming deep breath, I slowed my pulse and tried to speak evenly. “I was happy to come and visit, but I had no idea I was coming
