Chapter 26: The Damsel and the Villain

Clara had just finished making the bed when the doors to the suite burst open. She sighed and prepared for the storm, abandoning the carefully constructed picture of the knife she’d been polishing in her mind every spare moment since Monday.

Iris walked in and dropped her satchel onto the sofa with enough force for it to bounce, then dropped herself right next to it.

“I,” she announced to the ceiling, “am going to fail.”

“Welcome back, my lady. How was class?”

“Catastrophic. Ruinous.” Iris pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. “Professor Florence handed back our mock examinations today.”

“And?”

Iris reached into her satchel, pulled out a folded sheet of paper without looking, and held it at arm’s length until Clara took it.

The test was covered in what Clara recognized as algebraic equations. The notation differed slightly from what she was used to, but it was eminently understandable: quadratic expressions, factoring, that sort of thing.

And across the top, in red ink: 34/100.

Clara had to stop herself from frowning. “It’s not that bad, my lady,” she managed.

“Charlotte got a sixty-seven, and she thinks a hypotenuse is a type of exotic animal.”

Clara held back a laugh. “Professor Morris’s lessons haven’t been helping?”

“He’s been adequate for teaching most subjects. History, Natural Philosophy—Fundamentals of Magic, obviously. But he’s hopelessly inept at conveying Mathematics.” Iris sighed. “The midterms begin in less than a week…”

“You’re worried about the rankings.”

Iris nodded miserably. “If I fall below the average, after everything with the prince and the trial…”

Clara sat down in front of the tea table and smoothed out the exam. “Show me where you got stuck.”

“What?”

“Mathematics, my lady. Show me what’s giving you trouble. I may be able to help.”

Iris blinked at her. “And how would you know it?”

“I don’t have to have studied at an academy to understand numbers.” Most of the things she’d seen Morris teach Iris, like history or geography, were specific to this world, and honestly, she was enjoying learning them. But math was universal, and luckily, Clara had always been fond of it, at least as far as lawyers went. “Also, I read a lot.” She grinned.

“Of all the ridiculous—” Iris chuckled. “Very well, Clara. I shall humor you.” The girl got up from the sofa, pulled out a thick leather-bound textbook from her satchel, and sat next to Clara at the table. The title on the cover read ‘Principles of Algebraic Reasoning, Second Edition’.

Clara opened it and began flipping through the pages. She found nothing that seemed like it should pose a threat to Iris, given how sharp the girl was.

“My lady, when you’re working through these problems, do you understand the steps, or are you mostly trying to memorize the methods?”

Iris’s silence was answer enough.

“I thought so. I think your issue is one of approach.”

“My approach is to stare at the numbers until they either make sense or I develop a headache,” Iris said flatly.

“Let’s start from the beginning. What do you know about factoring?”

“It involves taking an expression and breaking it into smaller pieces.”

Clara nodded and wrote out a simple quadratic on a sheet of paper: x² + 5x + 6. “Can you factor this one?”

Iris frowned at the paper. She picked up the pen, held it over the page, wrote ‘(x + )’, then put it down again. “I know there should be two sets of brackets, and that the numbers inside them need to add or multiply to something. But I can never remember how to get there.”

“I like to think of it in much the same way as I think of anything else: start from the facts in front of you. In this case, the numbers five and six. What can you multiply to get six?”

Iris ticked them off on her fingers. “One and six. Or two and three.”

“Good. Now which of those pairs also adds up to five?”

“Two and three,” she answered immediately. Then she paused. “Oh.”

“So the factored form is?”

Iris put down ‘(x + 2)(x + 3)’ in neat handwriting. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“But Professor Florence spent an hour explaining this! And when Professor Morris was going over it, he just drew some shapes and started going on about geometry.”

Clara chuckled. “Some teachers prefer to show you why something works before showing you how. I get why they think that’s important, but it can make things feel more intimidating than they are.”

Iris furrowed her brow. “Again.”

This time Clara made the middle term negative, and Iris stared intently at it.

“There’s a negative number and a positive number,” said Clara. “What does that tell you?”

Iris tapped her pen against her lips. “That the numbers in the answer are both negative? Because two negatives multiply to make a positive, but added together they remain negative.”

“Exactly, my lady.”

An hour passed, and then another, with them working through several problems in succession. Somewhere in the middle, Emma had left them tea and biscuits.

“This is actually rather elegant once you get used to it,” Iris admitted.

“Someone once told me numbers can be just as beautiful as poems.”

Iris scoffed. “I wouldn’t go that far.” She leaned back in her chair and stretched her arms above her head. “Thank you, Clara. Let’s continue this tomorrow.”

“You know, I do have other duties.”

Iris waved dismissively. “Emma can handle them. I’m not going to let Charlotte beat me.”

Poor girl. But this is probably for the best, with how close the midterms are.

“I will speak to Emma, then.” Clara rose from her seat. “Do you need anything else for tonight, my lady?”

Iris looked out the window and sighed. “I suppose not. Have a good evening, Clara.”

“What’s wrong? I thought you’d be in a better mood now that you’ve wrapped your mind around factors.”

“It’s not that. Professor Harwick reminded us during homeroom that our class still hasn’t submitted a proposal for the gala exhibition.”

Over the past few days, Clara had heard a lot of talk about the gala. It was a formal event at the end of April, and every class or club had to prepare something for it. Clara was getting increasingly excited about experiencing a bona fide fantasy world school festival.

“Most of the class wants to do a play. Felicity suggested a romance, and of course the girls loved that, but that would entail dealing with Prince Lochlann obnoxiously demanding he and Helena be the leads. And the boys want to do an adventure story about a wandering knight, which is all form and no substance.”

“Do you have a preference?”

“I have a preference for not embarrassing myself. I wrote to Papa, and he’s coming with Mama and Conrad. We should be doing something grand and exciting.”

Iris started a tirade about Felicity’s vapid taste in romances, but Clara’s mind was already elsewhere.

The gala was attended not just by students but alumni and family. And considering the type of person who went to Claves, that would mean a gathering of wealthy and politically influential people, including wealthy merchants, members of Parliament, the upper nobility, and maybe even royalty. All gathered together, watching a play.

It was the perfect time to plant a seed. One that could, if carefully watered, blossom into a different life for her, where she might finally be more than a servant.

“My lady,” said Clara, “what if your play was a courtroom drama?”

“A what?”

“A play set in a trial. Two sides arguing a case before a judge, with witnesses and evidence and dramatic revelations, just like you’ve seen.”

Iris’s eyes narrowed. “That does sound compelling.” She closed her eyes, giving herself time to mull over the idea while chewing on a biscuit. “We’ll need a good script. Something dramatic enough to hold attention, like a knight being framed by a conniving aristocrat. There’s nothing nobles like better than to see another’s scheme foiled. It makes them feel better about their own scheming.”

That wasn’t a bad setup. “Will the class agree, my lady?”

“I will make sure they do,” said Iris. “Homeroom is on Friday. You’re coming with me. Prepare some brigadeiros tomorrow.”

Iris’s homeroom class was in a tiered, semicircular lecture hall on the second floor of the main building. Clara stood near the entrance, holding a covered tray of brigadeiros she’d prepared last night, with Emma next to her carrying another one. The pair had caught a few odd glances from the students, but for the most part they seemed too busy talking to each other to care about the two maids.

Professor Harwick, the homeroom teacher, was a gaunt man with gray hair, a wide mustache that curved upwards, and a monocle on his right eye. He came into the room with quiet steps, and after he sat behind the desk it took several moments for the noise to die down.

Iris sat in the front row, with Felicity on one side and Charlotte on the other. Crown Prince Lochlann sat at the very back, flanked by two boys Clara didn’t recognize. And Helena, of course, sat in the second-to-last row, with Vivienne on one side and a window to the courtyard on the other. Clara tried to find Reginald Vainglory, but the viscount didn’t seem to be in attendance.

“Good morning, students,” started Professor Harwick. “As I’ve reminded you several times now, the gala exhibition proposal is due today. I understand you have settled on a play, but haven’t decided which one yet. Now, that is all well and good, but I must warn you that Class 2-A is the only one that hasn’t submitted a proposal. If you don’t finalize one today, I’ll be forced to assign you something, and I don’t think any of you would enjoy performing the liturgies. Does anyone have something that you can all agree on?”

Felicity raised her hand immediately. “Professor, I’ve been polishing my concept for a romantic—”

Iris rose from her seat, and Felicity fell silent. “Thank you, Professor Harwick. And thank you, Felicity, for your enthusiasm—I’m sure your idea was lovely. But I believe I have something that will truly make our class the talk of the gala.”

She paused and turned to the other students. “A courtroom drama.”

Chatter rippled through the room, and Marcella’s name was whispered more than once.

“A courtroom drama? You mean like what happened last month?” asked Vivienne.

“Inspired by it, but entirely fictional.” Iris clasped her hands together. “Imagine an honorable knight, falsely accused of a terrible crime by a conniving aristocrat who framed him to cover his own misdeeds. The knight’s fate rests in the hands of a brilliant counsel who unravels the conspiracy, exposing the true villain in a dramatic court climax.”

“That sounds exciting,” said Helena. “What a lovely idea, Lady Iris.”

“It sounds like it has actual substance, unlike some other suggestions,” added Charlotte.

Felicity huffed. “My proposal had depth. I’ll have you know I added a subplot about trade negotiations.”

“The beauty of this concept,” Iris continued, “is that it has roles for everyone. The counsel, the judge, the accused knight, the villain, several witnesses, spectators and guards—and for those who prefer to work behind the scenes, they can help with the script and the mystery. My maid shall also help us with those; she has experience as counsel in court.” Without giving anyone time to object, Iris looked at Clara and nodded. “Now, would you all like to discuss the details over some snacks?”

Clara stepped forward towards the center of the hall and uncovered the brigadeiros. There was an immediate reaction from the girls who’d been at the tea party—Vivienne, Charlotte, and Felicity.

“What are those?” asked one boy next to the prince, standing up. Clara had expected those around the prince to be typical aristocrats, but the brown-haired boy had an easy air about him.

“They are a most wonderful treat, Lord Edward,” answered Vivienne, who’d already taken one. “Come, Helena, you need to try them!”

Clara distributed the sweets, and the entire mood of the room shifted. Students who’d been slouching before were now excitedly discussing the play, and even Prince Lochlann had already eaten three, despite his frown when he’d been told they were a von Rhenia specialty.

“The lead role, naturally, is the defense counsel. She must be eloquent, commanding, and capable of holding the audience’s attention.” Iris tilted her head to the side and then back. “Now, as I am the only one here with actual experience observing a trial from the side of the defense, I am, of course, the obvious choice.”

Clara smiled. Of course.

“Bit presumptuous to cast yourself as the lead in your own proposal, isn’t it?” said Edward, though he seemed more amused than opposed.

Iris simply laughed and continued. “Now, we can have Felicity play the key witness, yes? A beautiful young lady who works behind the scenes and knows everything.”

Between this and the brigadeiros, Clara watched Felicity’s reluctance crumble in real time. “Well, I suppose someone has to elevate the supporting cast.”

“Wonderful. As for the villain…” Iris’s eyes scanned the room. “The aristocrat who frames the honorable knight must be someone imposing, whom the audience can believe has real power. Someone whose very presence on stage commands attention.”

She paused, letting the words hang in the air, until her eyes settled somewhere on the back of the class.

“Your Highness, I believe you would be ideal.”

Oh. Is that why she wanted the antagonist to be a noble? If so, that was a masterful bit of framing.

Lochlann’s auburn brows drew together, and Edward grinned next to him. “You want me,” he said, “to play the villain.”

“Your Highness, as the villain is a high noble, it is only suitable that the most pedigreed among us take the role. After all, it wouldn’t do for someone of your station to play a common knight,” said Iris.

“Absolutely not.” Lochlann stood. “I’m not going to parade around a stage as some scheming criminal for entertainment.”

“It’s acting, Your Highness,” said Vivienne mildly. “The role isn’t a reflection of the actor.”

“I know what acting is, Vivienne.”

“Then you’ll also know that antagonists are often the most celebrated roles,” Iris pressed. “They are the ones whom the audience remembers, even after they’ve long forgotten the hero.”

Helena’s eyes brightened. “Oh! Your Highness, do you remember that play we watched together? I quite loved the performance of Mephistopheles, even though he was the villain!”

Lochlann’s eyes moved from Helena to Iris to the rest of the class. “I’ll consider it,” he said through his teeth. “But I want Helena to have an important role, too. She should be the judge.”

Professor Harwick spoke for the first time in a while. “Before we get too far into the details, has the class agreed on this proposal? This ‘courtroom drama’?”

“Yes, Professor,” said Iris. Many other students nodded.

Clara was relieved that her idea had been approved, but there was also a small nagging feeling about how it had happened. The way Iris manipulated people into taking certain roles made it all feel like the girl had a hidden agenda that went beyond just getting Lochlann to play the villain.

Not that I can complain, given that I have one, too. Besides, I’m probably just overthinking it.

“Splendid. I’ll submit it to the gala committee. And would someone please bring me another one of those cocoa balls?”